Fifth Victim

jodhpurs that left remarkably little to the imagination about the nature of her underwear. ‘Well, I guess I could be persuaded to … mount up.’

‘Thoughts in that direction will land you in gaol,’ I said dryly, but the comment provoked a weary laugh.

‘You think?’ He shook his head. ‘You don’t know how things work in this country, do you?’

‘Why don’t you enlighten me?’

Torquil sprawled back in his chair, as if he couldn’t believe I seriously needed to ask such a dumb question.

‘My old man has more money than God. Don’t ask how he made most of it. Hell, even I don’t ask how he made most of it,’ he added, as if he and his father had conversations about high finance all the time. He grinned. ‘But the long and the short of it is, money don’t talk – it sings. And, when it does, everybody dances.’ He leant forwards, elbows on the table, the smile dropping away. ‘And that means I can do, or have, anything I want, and nobody will lift a finger to stop me. Capiche?’

I waited a beat. ‘How very boring for you,’ I said, letting my voice drawl.

Torquil looked momentarily surprised at my lack of proper intimidation, and then he laughed out loud, a proper bark of amusement. ‘I like you,’ he said. ‘I don’t know why, ’cause you’re a bitch, but I really do like you.’

‘Thank you … I think.’

He held my gaze for a moment longer, then turned his attention back to Dina. Beyond the waist-high kick boards that edged the arena, she had managed to coax Cerdo into a creditable canter pirouette to applause and cries of ‘Way to go, Dina!’ from Raleigh.

Any moment now, I thought cynically, he’s going to suggest a group hug.

‘I wouldn’t put that untouchable status to the test as far as she’s concerned, if I were you,’ I said quietly. ‘She’s well protected.’

‘I kinda like her, too,’ Torquil said. ‘That was a cool gift.’ And as if to prove it, he reached into a pocket and dragged out the Swiss Army knife Dina had given to him for his birthday. He fingered the engraved casing, looking almost unsure of himself. ‘I thought I might invite her to dinner. As a thank you and an apology. You think she’ll come?’

I thought of Dina’s comment before the party, that Torquil was the price rather than the object of going. It was not part of my job description, I decided, to vet my principal’s choice of date unless they posed an actual threat.

All I said was, ‘A little early in the day for that, isn’t it?’

‘Depends.’ Torquil checked the encrusted Rolex that swamped his wrist. If he ever fell into deep water wearing it, it would pull him to the bottom so fast his eardrums would burst. ‘I know a place does great seafood in Miami,’ he said, almost diffident. ‘And Dad’s just bought a new Lear 85.’

‘Nice choice,’ I said sedately. His expression turned slightly mulish, as if he’d been hoping for more surprised admiration of his father’s executive jet. I put my head on one side, asked in mild tones, ‘How do you live with such certainty? Once you’ve had everything – done everything – how will you even bring yourself to get out of bed in the morning?’

Just for a moment, something flitted across his face. It took me a moment to recognise it as panic and I realised he’d already reached his boredom saturation point. He was a week past his twenty-first birthday.

At that moment, his cellphone began to vibrate and emit the theme from Mission: Impossible. Now why didn’t that surprise me? Torquil snatched it up immediately.

I tuned out his mumbled phone conversation and watched Dina instead. She was walking Cerdo in a cooling- off circle around her instructor at the far end of the arena. Raleigh was talking animatedly, mainly with his hands, and Dina was nodding seriously, a buzz of excitement about her. At least she hadn’t reached the same plane as Torquil. Not yet.

It was a testament to the newly attained state of relaxation between horse and rider that the sudden clatter of hooves on the concrete yard didn’t startle Cerdo beyond a slight quickening of his stride, a twitch of his ears. But at least he didn’t try to dump his rider again.

A girl on a fine-boned bay Arabian horse arrived from the direction of the cross-country course, both looking hard-ridden. The girl swung down in the yard, where another of Raleigh’s girl groom groupies rushed to take her reins. As the rider removed her crash helmet, I recognised Orlando’s delicate features. She handed over care of her horse without eye contact or a backward glance, and climbed the steps to the cafe balcony.

There were grass stains on her knee, elbow and shoulder, I saw as she approached. Looked like Dina wasn’t the only one who’d hit the dirt today.

When she saw me sitting with Torquil at the end table, her stride faltered momentarily.

‘Hey, Tor,’ she greeted him stiffly as he finished his call, nodding to me in a vague way that suggested she’d completely forgotten my name. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘Came to see what all the fuss was about,’ Torquil said airily. ‘After all, Dad has a couple of horse farms out in Kentucky, so maybe I should give this stuff a try.’

Orlando almost smiled. ‘Your father has thoroughbreds, for racing,’ she chided. ‘They’re not the kinda animals you could learn to horseback-ride on.’

‘I’m a quick study. And how hard can it be?’ Torquil grinned, draining the last of his coffee and getting to his feet, leaving the empty cup on the table. For a moment I harboured the vain hope that he might be leaving, but he merely wandered over to the serving window for another coffee. ‘Get you ladies anything?’

‘Coffee,’ we both said together.

That seemed, if not to break the ice, then certainly to start a thaw. Orlando considered me out of the corner of her eye for a moment, then leant in closer, keeping her voice conspiratorially low. ‘He gives me the creeps.’

I glanced over my shoulder to where Torquil was still at the serving window. I didn’t like to tell her he was growing on me. ‘At least you know they’re the best creeps money can buy.’

She giggled suddenly, hiding her mouth behind her hand like a kid. The gesture seemed to emphasise the anxiety in her eyes. They were an incredible shade of emerald green, I noticed, but then I saw the faint outline around her iris and realised she probably wore tinted contact lenses.

‘What is it?’ I asked gently. ‘What’s scaring you?’

She let her hand drop away, the laughter falling with it. ‘He did this before,’ she said, speaking fast. ‘Tor. He’d just turn up, out of the blue, wherever I went. Like he was following me—’

Over her shoulder, Torquil had finished paying for the coffees, amazing me with the fact he bothered to carry loose change, and was carefully working out how to pick up and carry three cups at once. Judging by the hash he was making of such a simple task, it was a new experience for him. I knew I didn’t have much time.

‘Did this before what, Orlando?’

She looked at me, and now I saw a roiling mix of fear and guilt and shame. ‘Before I was kidnapped.’

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Before I’d time to fully process that information, or even ask Orlando for more, the riding club’s runabout, a GMC pickup, pulled up in the yard and Hunt got out. He appeared up the steps to the balcony, hands casually in the pockets of his chinos. Orlando’s boyfriend was wearing a lightweight tweed jacket over a blue Oxford shirt, and his air of cool polish made Torquil’s pseudo-rapper outfit seem like a child’s fancy dress.

Hunt greeted me with cautious reserve, frowning at Orlando as though he immediately sensed her unease and suspected I might be the cause of it. She gave him a wan smile and he stopped behind her chair to put a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

‘Charlie,’ he said with a fraction more warmth. ‘How goes it?’

‘Fine,’ I said. ‘Are you into horses, Hunt?’

He gave a self-deprecatory shrug. ‘I dabble. My family kept quite a string before the anti-hunting lobby had their way and riding to hounds was banned. Damn shame.’

I didn’t point out that it wasn’t following the hounds that people objected to, so much as setting the dogs on