Watery grave
Vesper's corpse lay motionless on the pier. Her face, robbed of its colour, was a mask of death, a casket of beauty that would now withstand the ravages of the years. Mason Stone was standing beside her. The paramedics had tried in vain to rekindle a breath of life but the watery grave in which she had been buried had left her no chance. Bound hand and foot, they had given her no chance of survival. It was Mason who helped the cops identify her.
"Vesper Shonessy. That's what she said anyway, I don't think she was lying." Vesper was still wearing the black dress from the night before.
Peterson pinned it to his notebook.
"Why?"
"She had no reason to lie: I wasn't a client and I'd just saved her life."
"When?"
"Less than seven hours ago."
"Don't be shy."
"Two punks, two
