Fifth Victim

Dina flushed immediately. ‘How can I hope to expect you might understand what it’s like?’ she demanded. ‘Watching him bleeding you? You’ve been divorced for years, and still he comes crawling back—’

‘Dina, this is not going to get you anywhere,’ I broke in quietly, before she could get into full flow. ‘If anything, you should be happy that your mother still has some kind of fondness for your father. You were a product of that marriage, after all. Would you prefer there only to be bitter memories?’

Both of them looked taken aback at that, even a little insulted that I should presume to comment. Dina resumed a slightly sulky air, gaze firmly fixed on the tabletop.

‘I think you better just tell me,’ Caroline Willner said then, but her tone was more conciliatory this time. ‘What were you afraid of?’

Dina’s head came up. ‘Losing Cerdo,’ she blurted out. ‘I don’t care about the rest of it, but I couldn’t bear to lose my horses.’

I stared at her, frowning. ‘And how the hell does stinging your mother for a ransom help?’

‘Ah,’ Caroline Willner said, before Dina could answer – even if she’d a mind to. ‘I have an insurance policy against kidnap. It was taken out some years ago, but it’s still perfectly valid. I was visiting South America, and I was told it was prudent to take such precautions.’ Her gaze skimmed over her daughter, strangely dispassionate. ‘It covers immediate family members, so the money would not have come from me directly.’

Funny how no one minds swindling insurance companies, from an ageing camera ‘dropped’ on holiday, to an overinflated estimate for storm damage repairs. And we all end up paying for it in the end, via rocketing premiums which only perpetuate the cycle.

I didn’t ask if Dina knew about the insurance. It was common enough in her social circle, and one look at her guilty face was enough to prove her mother had scored a direct hit.

‘You think an insurance company would just pay up that kind of money without making strenuous efforts to recover it?’ I demanded, not hiding my own incredulity. ‘And if it was all for your mother’s benefit, how the hell were you planning on giving it to her – claim you found it stuffed down the back of a sofa?’

Dina’s skin pinked all the way up to her hairline, and she gripped her coffee mug like a lifeline. ‘I don’t know,’ she muttered. ‘I hadn’t thought that far ahead.’

‘Well, I cannot begin to tell you how extremely disappointed I am at this level of dishonesty,’ Caroline Willner said, nothing in her voice. ‘It will be a long time before I feel I can trust you again, Dina.’

‘I was trying to help!’

‘By stealing?’ Her mother’s response came back like a whip. ‘And let us not forget that a boy is dead because of you and your friends.’

‘That was an accident,’ Dina said, heard her own desperation and swallowed it down. ‘It must have been. They would never hurt anyone. Not like that …’

There was an edge of panic in her voice, her eyes, and I remembered Manda’s assertion that Dina suffered from claustrophobia. The prospect of being buried alive held particular terrors for her. Caroline Willner’s face showed no sympathy for her daughter’s fears.

‘And what about the Benelli boy?’ she asked. ‘Was he behind his own … mutilation?’ She took a sip of her tea. Dina simply stared.

‘Benedict was a classical guitarist,’ she said, almost a whisper. ‘I don’t know what happened. They wouldn’t tell me. Maybe that was another accident. Why would he agree to anything so horrible?’

‘As a way of avoiding his parents’ ambitions for him in that direction, which were always far more … aggressive than his own,’ Caroline Willner said coldly. ‘While also serving as a constant reminder of their own vacillation when it came to paying the ransom.’

‘I—’

‘Tell me,’ she continued, raising a pale unpencilled eyebrow, ‘what means of persuasion did you have in mind to convince me to pay promptly? Have them tell me you’d also been buried alive?’

Dina swayed in her seat, put a steadying hand on the table.

‘OK, that’s enough,’ I said quietly. ‘I think you’ve made your point, Mrs Willner.’

She glanced at me, mild surprise in her face. ‘But, you see, that’s just the problem, Ms Fox, I don’t believe I have.’ Her eyes shifted to Dina’s face, scanned over it briefly. ‘What kind of child have I raised, that she thinks it’s remotely acceptable to commit such crimes?’ Her voice was a murmur, as if speaking rhetorically.

Dina, who’d seemed on the verge of fainting when her mother mentioned premature burial, now just looked sick.

‘I think you underestimate the influence Dina’s friends exert,’ I said, feeling compelled to take the girl’s side even though I thoroughly agreed with her mother. ‘I used to work for Amanda Dempsey’s family. That girl could persuade any saint to turn sinner.’

Caroline Willner allowed a small smile to flutter her lips. ‘I was a child of the Sixties,’ she said. ‘I took part in the big anti-Vietnam protest marches in Washington in sixty-nine, much to my father’s disgust. Yet he very much admired my grandmother’s participation in the women’s suffrage movement, although that’s beside the point.’ Another flicker of a smile. ‘My friends at the time were talking about involving themselves with more violent forms of protest. Some of them were people I very much admired, but I did not agree with their philosophy, so I did not take part.’ She paused, the reminiscence fading. ‘You were brought up to know better.’

Dina hunched in frustration. ‘You were never there! I was raised by a succession of nannies. All I wanted was for you to notice me.’

Caroline Willner’s jaw tightened. ‘Well, you’ve certainly gotten my attention now, Dina,’ she said. ‘And I’m sure there will be plenty of notice taken if this comes to trial.’

‘You’d turn me in?’ Dina gasped, then shook her head. ‘No, you wouldn’t. But only because they’d drag your name through the mud alongside mine, Mother, and you couldn’t stand that, could you?’ She waited a beat, but there was no reply. I doubt she’d expected one. ‘Yes, I’ve been stupid, but what happened to Tor was nothing to do with me. And it was an accident!’

‘If you want us to believe that,’ I said, ‘you’re going to have to shop them.’ Because they’ll shop you in a heartbeat, if the tables are turned.

‘No.’ Dina shook her head again. ‘They’re my friends.’

‘Dina—’ Caroline Willner began heavily.

‘Friends who broke Raleigh’s arm just because he happened to get in the way,’ I cut in. ‘Friends who murdered Torquil Eisenberg, and had a pretty good go at killing me.’

She wouldn’t look at me, wouldn’t answer. Guilt was a good sign, I told myself.

‘You are to sever all contact with these people,’ Caroline Willner commanded, as if that alone was going to be enough to end the matter.

‘I already told them I changed my mind,’ Dina said. ‘I told them tonight, even before we knew about Tor. There won’t be another attempt on me.’

Caroline Willner nodded and rose gracefully to her feet. ‘Well, that’s a start,’ she said. ‘First thing tomorrow you will call the police and arrange an appointment to see the officer in charge. You will cooperate fully with the authorities,’ she added in a voice that allowed for no arguments. ‘And then you will call your horse-riding instructor.’

‘Raleigh? Why?’ Dina asked, confused. ‘I already apologised to him. You can’t mean I should tell him about—?’

‘An apology is not enough, Dina,’ her mother cut in. ‘You will call him and arrange to have your horses delivered to him immediately. It seems a fitting manner of compensation for your crimes.’

‘What?’ Dina leapt to her feet, her chair screeching back on the polished tile. Interesting that the prospect of telling all to the authorities had not raised the same kind of reaction as the prospect of losing her precious horses.

‘Actions have consequences, my dear,’ Caroline Willner said, absolute finality in her tone. ‘It’s high time you realised that fact.’

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

I called Parker as soon as I got back to my room. It had been a hell of a long day for both of us, but he still