by Zoe Sharp
‘Yeah,’ I said again. ‘So is Russian roulette.’
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.
Dina flushed immediately. ‘How can I hope to expect you might understand what it’s like?’ she demanded. ‘Wa
tching 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
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br /> 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 answered his phone on the second ring. With Joe McGregor hovering over by the window, pretending not to listen in, I ran through the gist of Dina’s confession and Caroline Willner’s reaction to it.
McGregor had not been present in the kitchen, so it was news to him, although judging by the look on his face, it didn’t exactly come as a big surprise.
‘What happens now?’ he asked when I snapped the phone shut.
‘We both get some sleep before one of us speaks her mind to these bloody people and does something she might regret.’
He grinned at me. ‘Not you, Charlie. You might speak your mind, but you’d never regret it.’
‘At the moment, I could cheerfully strangle the lot of them,’ I muttered, shaking my head. ‘I should have known Manda Dempsey was trouble from the moment I laid eyes on her again.’
‘When they were all in the living room, before you’d gotten back, it didn’t seem like she was the one in charge,’ McGregor said slowly. ‘If anything, I woulda said the other girl, Orlando, was making all the noise, with that Brit boyfriend of hers backing her up.’
‘Hunt does seem the protective type,’ I agreed. I opened my mouth, about to ask him what else he’d noticed while I’d been otherwise engaged, but shook my head. ‘Look, I can’t think about this anymore tonight. Parker wants me to go into the office tomorrow. You OK to stay on out here?’
‘Sure. For how long, you reckon?’
I shrugged. ‘Until Mrs Willner stops writing the cheques, I expect. But I’ll be back by mid afternoon and you can fill me in then.’ I paused, diffident. ‘Actually, while I’m over there, I wouldn’t mind going to see Sean – if you can stand another few hours of Dina’s company?’
His face softened slightly. ‘No sweat, Charlie. Take as long as you need. I don’t have any plans.’
Five hours’ sleep was all I needed to feel reasonably human again. Plus a long hot shower and an equally long hot coffee – in that order.