Fifth Victim

‘Ah, I’m sorry, Orlando,’ I said, and meant it. ‘Sometimes it happens, when a group of you spend time together—’

‘But it wasn’t like that,’ she burst out, face crumpling. ‘He and Manda knew each other long before. She was the one who introduced us. Manda’s my friend. So, why would they do that?’

CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

As soon as I got back into the Navigator, I called Parker, watching Orlando’s chauffeured BMW roll out of the parking area and back onto the main road as I did so.

He listened to my explanation of Hunt’s prior relationship with Manda without interruption. On its own, it meant little, but Manda had deliberately misled me when I’d seen her at the apartment. Besotted was how she’d described Orlando and Hunt’s relationship. If she was supposed to be Orlando’s friend, then surely she would know all was not well in paradise. So why had she lied? I couldn’t ignore my gut instinct.

‘I’ll get straight onto Bill, get him to check this guy out more thoroughly,’ he said when I was done. No arguments, no doubts.

‘He’ll still be awake?’ I glanced at my watch. It was 1.15 a.m. Dina had entered her fortieth hour of captivity. Was she even still alive? I felt the tension in my shoulders, my hands, and tried to relax.

‘Until we get Dina back, everyone’s on call twenty-four/seven,’ Parker said grimly. ‘Get back here soon as you can, Charlie. And you were right to go – good work.’

The return journey took only a minute longer than the outward one. There was almost no traffic on the rain- lashed streets, but it was no night to be out. The water had started to pile up in the gutters, sweeping debris down the enormous storm drains that characterise the sides of American roads. They buried coffins deep enough over here not to rise in a flood, I remembered, and couldn’t suppress a shiver that had nothing to do with cold.

When I reached the house, I found Parker had roused both Landers and Caroline Willner. A sleepy-looking Silvana was handing round fresh hot drinks, and I accepted a steaming cup of coffee gratefully.

‘I don’t know anything about the young man,’ Caroline Willner was saying. ‘He’s been here a couple of times, with Orlando, and he’s always seemed polite, attentive. I got no – how would you say it? – bad vibes from him.’

‘Neither did I,’ I said. ‘He had an answer for everything. Although, when I mentioned that Trevanion was a Cornish name, he didn’t seem to know.’ Should I have known? I shook my head in disgust. ‘He took me in completely. He seemed so plausible, so bloody nice, compared to the rest of them. I—’

I broke off suddenly, drenched with cold. Hunt had been so approachable, so friendly, so without an axe to grind, that I’d chatted openly to him about the current situation.

Parker had moved to my side to ask quietly, ‘What is it?’

I jerked my head towards the hallway and when we were alone I told him, in detail, about my apparently chance meeting with Hunt outside Orlando’s family estate, and about our oh-so-civilised pot of Fortnum & Mason tea at the tennis club.

‘I told him Caroline Willner doesn’t have the money to pay,’ I finished in a horrified voice, eyes flying to Parker’s. ‘He could already have decided this is a dead end.’

In which case, he could have decided Dina is a dead end, too. And if she is, it’s my fault …

‘It’s not over yet, Charlie,’ Parker said, tense. ‘Bill’s looking into him right now. Someone using the name Hunter Trevanion is renting a house in Sag Harbor for the summer, but so far we can’t find a previous address for him. He doesn’t have a US driver’s licence, but if he’s a Brit, he might never have gotten around to it.’

‘He told me he’d been out here five years,’ I said, focusing inward to recall our earlier conversation at Torquil’s party. ‘Said he’d been at Oxford and implied the university, but for all I know he could have been living rough in doorways. Oh, he also said his family were in the music business, if that helps?’

‘I’ll let Bill know.’

I frowned. ‘Ross said Lennon’s mystery pal was American.’

‘He could have used a go-between,’ Parker said.

I moved over to a small sofa that lined one wall of the hallway. It was uncomfortable, intended more for decoration than for use, but I sank onto it anyway. I was desperately tired but too buzzed to sleep. ‘Still nothing from the kidnappers?’

Parker shook his head. ‘We’re taking no news as good news until we reach the deadline they set – we still have thirty hours,’ he said carefully. ‘Brandon Eisenberg called to say he’s making progress securing the ransom. And the hospital called to say McGregor’s conscious. His family flew in from Toronto this afternoon.’

‘Well, that’s good, anyway,’ I murmured. I leant my head back and let my eyes close briefly as I took a sip of coffee. One less thing to worry about.

‘How you feeling, Charlie?’ Parker asked. I opened my eyes again and realised he was watching me closely. I made an effort to sit up.

‘Fine,’ I lied. ‘Why?’

‘You up to a quick trip back to Manhattan? I think we need to have another talk to Amanda Dempsey, see what she knows.’

I put my half-drunk coffee down regretfully on the side table and pushed to my feet. ‘OK,’ I said, giving him a weary smile, ‘providing you don’t mind driving? I think I’m likely to fall asleep at the wheel.’

We didn’t talk much on the way over, mainly because I reclined my seat slightly, bunched up my jacket between the Navigator’s headrest and the side window, and catnapped for most of the way.

I jerked awake at the touch of a hand on my arm, reaching for it almost before I had a chance to counter the automatic reaction.

‘Easy, Charlie,’ Parker said. ‘We’re nearly there.’

‘What time is it?’

‘A quarter of four,’ Parker said briefly, without needing to check.

Dina had been held for nearly forty-two hours.

By the time he’d braked to a halt outside Manda’s apartment block, I was sitting up again and with it, if a little groggy. It was still raining, the streets of the city washed clean and glistening in the lights.

‘You OK?’ Parker asked again as we entered the lobby area.

‘You don’t need to keep asking,’ I told him gently. ‘If I’m not, I’ll let you know.’

It was a pleasure to watch my boss intimidate the night security guy into not calling up to warn Manda we were on our way. He did it with a soft lethality that reduced the man to fluster in less than a minute.

‘Bully,’ I murmured as we rode up to Manda’s floor.

Parker flashed me a quick smile in reply. ‘You ain’t seen nothing yet …’

It took a lot of loud banging on Manda’s front door, and leaning on the bell, before she answered, wearing a thin peach satin nightgown and matching wrap. As someone who slept in an old T-shirt – if I slept in anything at all – the cynical half of me wondered if the delay had been partly caused by her searching for something alluring to put on.

‘Charlie!’ she exclaimed, covering the frightened note in her voice with a gloss of annoyance. ‘Do you have any idea what time it is?’

‘Yes,’ I said pleasantly. ‘May we come in? Or do you want to wait for the FBI?’

She hesitated, by which time I had moved forwards, smiling, and before she knew it we were inside with the door closed behind us. Manda realised she wasn’t going to get rid of us easily and shrugged. She led us into the living area with its fabulous view of the skyline, which was lightening towards dawn but still dominated by the beautifully lit, iconic buildings.

Once there, she tugged the flimsy garment closer around her body and glared at us with a certain amount of scared truculence.

‘What do you want?’ Her eyes flicked to Parker as if she thought he might be easier to manipulate. He stared back, radiating menace because of the total lack of emotion he projected.