Fifth Victim

If Dina’s head hung any further, she was going to have her nose actually resting in her drink.

I sighed. ‘Tell me.’

She looked straight at me then, her face fierce and focused. ‘You have to promise me, Charlie, that you won’t say anything to anyone about this. Promise me!’

‘Torquil’s dead,’ I said quietly. ‘This is not a game anymore, if it ever really was. You know I can’t make that promise. But,’ I added quickly, seeing her suddenly stricken expression, ‘if I can help you, I will. You’ll just have to trust me to make that decision. Take it or leave it.’

If she noticed the word ‘help’ rather than ‘protect’, she didn’t comment on the distinction.

I rubbed a tired hand across my face and said, ‘When you said it was “us” who was behind the kidnappings, who were you talking about, exactly?’ just to try and get her started before I fell asleep in my chair.

I saw her face twitch, identified a brief flicker of shame and guilt.

‘We are,’ she muttered, almost too low to hear.

‘“We” being …?’

She bit her lip, stubborn. ‘The group of us,’ she insisted.

‘O … K.’ I let that one pass for the moment. ‘Why?’

‘What do you mean?’

I raised an eyebrow. ‘Why did you decide to do it? I mean, were you just all sitting around one day, bored, and someone came up with …’ My voice trailed off. ‘Oh, no. Please don’t tell me I’ve got that bit right.’

‘The way they all talked, it was glamorous and exciting,’ she cried. ‘Being snatched and held to ransom. It was like something out of a movie. None of it was real.’ She realised what she’d said, dropped her gaze again. ‘None of it was supposed to be real.’

‘So, the pair who tried for you at the riding club, they were actors or something?’ I demanded. ‘Because they certainly weren’t professional crooks.’

‘I don’t know who they were. I don’t! I don’t know how they knew where to find me, even. That’s how the whole thing was explained – that I would never know the details.’

‘Wait a minute. If you were arranging to have yourself kidnapped, why go to the trouble of hiring a bodyguard? Was I just window dressing?’

‘Of course not, it’s just—’ She broke off suddenly, swallowed. ‘You were great that day at the riding club. Honestly, Charlie. Just terrific.’

‘I hear a “but” …’

‘You were too good. That was what they told me. They said they didn’t think they could get past you easily. Too many risks.’

‘They were amateurs,’ I murmured, remembering all too easily. ‘And who told you that?’

She flushed again, one shoulder lifting. ‘The others,’ she said, evasive again. There was something else there, too. It took me a moment to put my finger on it.

‘You’re angry,’ I realised. ‘What did you expect me to do, Dina? You can’t get a guard dog and then be upset when it bites people.’

‘I know, but getting a guard dog, as you put it, wasn’t exactly my idea.’

That made sense, at least. ‘Ah – your mother.’ I paused. ‘You didn’t have to accept me. But when we met, that first day on the beach, you seemed … pleased.’

‘You were a girl.’ She had the grace to blush. ‘I didn’t think—’

If I’d had more energy, I would have laughed. I shook my head sadly instead. ‘So, you did think I was window dressing.’

‘Sort of.’ Another flush, embarrassment and shame. ‘But then when we went to Tor’s party on the yacht, and Manda recognised you, she told me you were … good.’

I did laugh then, short and bitter. ‘Yeah, I’ll bet that’s how she put it.’

‘“One scary, hard-faced bitch” I believe were her exact words,’ Dina admitted.

So, Manda Dempsey was involved. No surprises there.

‘But not scary enough to put them off having a go?’

‘You don’t understand, Charlie. They were talking about maybe a million! I … talked them into going through with it.’

‘A million?’ I repeated flatly. ‘That’s probably a fraction of what this house is worth. So, it’s all about squeezing cash out of your mother, is that it?’

Dina was silent for a long time after that, playing with her empty mug, turning it round and round so the unglazed rim of the base grated against the tabletop.

‘You must think I’m so lucky, living someplace like this,’ she said at last, jerking her head to indicate the house, the town, or maybe Long Island itself.

‘And you think you’re not?’

‘Oh, I know I’m lucky, but once you’ve had it, it makes losing it all so much harder to bear.’

That surprised me. Parker would have checked out Caroline Willner very carefully, as he did with all potential clients. If he’d found anything untoward in her finances, he hadn’t mentioned it.

‘And you believe you might be in danger of losing it?’

She shrugged, an unhappy bunch of one shoulder. ‘Mother came from money, and she’s forged a successful career, but my father spends it as fast as she can make it.’

‘I thought they divorced years ago.’ I took a sip of my coffee. It was weak and tepid. Dina needed practice at the domestic arts if she was facing a life without staff. ‘The financial side of it should have been settled then.’

‘It was,’ Dina said. Her lips twisted. ‘But that doesn’t mean he hasn’t talked her into investing in a half-dozen crazy schemes. His family have some kind of castle, I guess you’d call it. A few years ago he wanted to renovate the place and open it as an upmarket health spa. Like that was ever going to work. Then he wanted to buy into some stupid old vineyard. And just because he had fancy ideas about seeing his precious family crest on some stupid bottle of wine, Mother had to foot the bill.’ She flushed again. ‘It’s like her business sense goes straight out the window every time he comes begging.’

‘Is that why you didn’t want to go to stay with him?’

Dina nodded. ‘Mother was desperate to get me away from Long Island, and I guess she thought I might be able to talk him out of some of his more hare-brained schemes …’ Her voice faded away as she saw my expression freeze. ‘What? What did I say?’

‘Mother was desperate to get me away from Long Island …’

‘She knows, doesn’t she?’ I said. ‘What you’ve been up to, I mean.’

‘No! Of course not. I—’

‘Of course I know,’ said Caroline Willner from the gloomy doorway. ‘A mother always knows.’

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

Caroline Willner took the high-backed chair at the head of the kitchen table. She was in her nightgown with a matching robe over the top, belted tightly at the waist. Her face, devoid of its usual subtle make-up, looked almost as tired as I felt. She settled herself with the air of a presiding judge about to pass sentence. If the pale horror on her daughter’s face was anything to go by, she probably was.

Dina seemed frozen with shock, so I was the one who made a pot of Earl Grey while the two of them faced each other in silence.

The staff were used to their employer’s liking for real tea, served hot rather than over ice. There was an electric kettle on the wiped-down worktop – something of a rarity in an American kitchen.

Caroline Willner inclined her head slightly in thanks as I put cup and saucer down near her right hand. I resumed my seat on the table’s long side, where I could referee if it became necessary.

‘So, Dina, I expect the courtesy of an explanation.’

Not quite the cajoling start I might have hoped for, but I recognised that Caroline Willner, despite appearances, was as hurt and bewildered as any parent would be under similar circumstances. She just hid it well behind a haughty mask and icily precise diction.