Deep Cover by Peter Turnbull Page B

head sagged forward. He held it like that for a few moments before recovering. ‘I’m glad she isn’t here . . .’
    â€˜Sorry?’ The reaction astounded Vicary.
    â€˜Oh . . . no . . . sorry . . .’ Halkier stammered, ‘don’t get me wrong. I mean my wife, Mrs Halkier.’
    â€˜I see.’
    â€˜She died a year ago without knowing what had happened to Rosemary, but she always lived in hope. Even just before she died she would say things like, “She’ll be in a hospital somewhere, not knowing who she is . . . lost all her memory, that’s why she hasn’t contacted us. She’ll phone soon, you’ll see, just you wait and see . . . it happens all the time.” I never said anything but . . . after a week I knew we’d never see her alive again. It was so not like her to not let us know where she was. But the identification will be positive. Where was she . . .’ Halkier paused, ‘where was her body found?’
    â€˜Her body – if it is hers – was found on Hampstead Heath.’
    â€˜The Heath.’ Halkier sighed. ‘All these years and she was so close . . . as the crow flies . . . ten miles, perhaps a little more. That’s close considering where she could be, like the north of Scotland, but at least my wife died before she was found. She never gave up hope.’ He drew a deep breath. ‘So, whereabouts on the Heath?’
    â€˜Close to the Spaniards Road entrance.’
    â€˜Spaniards Road?’
    â€˜Yes. If you go to that entrance you might probably see the remains of blue-and-white tape strung about the bushes. There will be a hollow just inside the shrubs, hidden from view.’
    â€˜A hollow . . . a shallow grave?’
    â€˜Yes,’ Vicary replied solemnly, ‘it was a shallow grave for someone, a female, possibly mid-thirties, just five feet tall.’
    â€˜That’s Rosemary.’
    â€˜And who has given birth.’
    â€˜Again . . . that’s Rosemary.’
    â€˜We still need something to make a positive identification.’
    â€˜Such as?’
    â€˜A full-face photograph, the name and address of her dentist . . . something with her DNA on it . . . a sample of your DNA, a sample of her children’s DNA.’
    â€˜You can have all of them from me, but her ex-husband has custody of the children.’
    â€˜Alright, that is not a problem. I will arrange for someone to call tomorrow to collect a sample of your DNA.’
    â€˜Very well, I’ll also try and find something with her DNA on it.’
    â€˜Thank you.’
    â€˜I’ll wait in . . . then I’ll go up to the Heath – Spaniards Road entrance?’
    â€˜Yes.’
    â€˜I’ll buy some flowers, then go up there.’
    â€˜Yes,’ Vicary replied softly for want of something to say. ‘Yes, I can understand you wanting to do that.’
    â€˜Dare say I’ll be going up quite often from now on. What father has two graves to visit for one daughter? I’ll visit the one she was in and the one she’s going in.’
    Vicary remained silent for a moment and then asked, ‘Can you tell me anything about her disappearance?’
    â€˜Went out . . . leaving the children here, and she didn’t return. That’s it.’
    â€˜She was living here at the time – not with her husband?’
    â€˜No. She was divorced. We were pleased about that, her husband was no good, a real waster . . . he probably still is, and I fear for my grandchildren with him for a father. They live with him in Clacton . . . Clacton.’ Halkier shook his head slowly. ‘He does summer work in the amusement arcades and on the dodgem cars. He lives for the summer, all those bright lights and machines making noises, and in the winter he