Peter Turnbull - Deep Cover

‘Ah. .’

‘And a girl called Jennifer Reeves, an early victim — her remains and the remains of Charlotte Varney being found under a cherry tree. . and of course their relatives now also have closure. Tragic that they lost their daughters in that way, but at least they now know what happened. . it is some comfort, some little comfort.’

The couple stopped talking and leaned back in their chairs as a waiter wearing a starched white tunic approached their table. ‘Would you like to see the wine list, sir?’ he asked pleasantly.

‘No, thank you,’ Harry Vicary replied. ‘Just a pitcher of chilled water for us both, please.’

‘Water. .’ The youthful waiter scowled. ‘Water? Yes, sir.’

‘Restaurants only make money on their alcohol sales,’ Vicary explained to his wife when the waiter had departed. ‘The profit from food sales is slim to zero.’

‘So we won’t be popular customers?’ Kathleen Vicary smiled.

‘Nope, but we are paying through the nose for our room if you ask me. We could get cheaper in London. Mind you, they don’t call this part of Norfolk “Chelsea North” for nothing.’

‘Yes, can’t help but notice the cars; our little VW next to those Ferraris. So, it is all wrapped up? Case closed?’

‘Yes.’ Vicary smiled. ‘All wrapped up, all done and dusted. A whole criminal empire we hardly knew existed brought down in a matter of days, because a man chose to commit suicide by lying down in the snow right on top of a shallow grave he had dug some ten years earlier.’