Free Fifth Victim by Zoe Sharp Page B

they grabbed him.’
    ‘He’d called out help to change a wheel?’ I queried, unable to keep the surprise out of my voice entirely, but Manda just gave me a wry glance where the old Amanda would have sulked.
    ‘His folks gave him a tricked-out Cadillac Escalade on these huge chromed wheels,’ she explained. ‘He said it was a two-man job, taking them on and off. And it was kinda dark, and raining.’
    Another roadside ambush. I made a mental note to be particularly vigilant when Dina and I were out in the car. I’d arrived at the Willners’ place on my motorbike, a Buell Firebolt, and I’d been using whatever was in their garage since, like Dina’s Merc. Maybe I’d call Parker in the morning about using one of the company SUVs, which had a certain amount of non-standard reinforcement in the bodywork and chassis, and run-flat tyres.
    ‘Did his kidnap follow the same pattern as yours?’ I asked now.
    ‘If you mean did they threaten to kill him – slowly and painfully – if the police were called in?’ she demanded. ‘Then, yes, it did.’
    ‘And the amount they wanted was the same?’
    Another head shake, harder this time. ‘This time, they wanted two million.’ She saw my reaction and added with a surprisingly resentful edge, ‘That amount is loose change to the Benelli family.’
    ‘And how much did they get?’
    She gave me a cool straight stare. ‘Two million.’
    ‘They paid up the whole amount, just like that?’ This time I didn’t bother to hide my disbelief. Such a move was not only practically unheard of, it was also unwise and possibly downright bloody dangerous.
    Unless …
    Manda was watching my face. She levered upright abruptly and began to turn away. ‘No. It wasn’t just like that at all.’
    I heard something quiet and brittle in her voice, took a step after her. ‘Manda, what—’
    ‘Hey, Manda, what’s the matter – you don’t love me anymore?’
    A figure had appeared from one of the brightly lit doorways and was standing silhouetted against the light, with a glass of champagne in one hand and the other still stuffed into his pocket. Benedict’s usual studied pose.
    ‘Of course I do, honey,’ she called, almost bringing off a relaxed drawl while at the same time shooting me a warning glance. ‘Charlie and I were just catching up on the bad old days.’
    Benedict sauntered across the deck, looking darkly handsome and completely aware of his own animal magnetism. He draped the arm with the champagne glass around Manda’s shoulders.
    ‘Come,’ he commanded, giving her a narrow-eyed pout that, to my mind, made him look both sleepy and grumpy. Never two of my favourite dwarves. Each to his – or her – own.
    I would have expected her to laugh off this display of machismo, but Manda gave me a vague smile and allowed him to lead her away. I watched their departing backs and wondered what the hell had been so different about Benedict’s kidnapping that his parents were prepared to pay up, in full, an amount that was four times what had been accepted before. And why Manda was so wary of talking about it in front of him. Not for the first time, I cursed the lack of investigation that had taken place into these crimes.
    Shrugging off the irritation, I checked the time – a little after two – wondering when I could legitimately insist we pack it in. The night still classified as young, if this lot were anything to go by. I began to feel correspondingly old.
    The watch was a cheap-and-cheerful model I’d bought to navigate by on a job in California. Sean had given me a beautiful Tag Heuer when we’d first moved out to live and work in America, twelve months before. The day they flew him back to New York, still in his coma, I’d put the Tag away in a bedside drawer and decided only to get it out again when he was awake to see it.
    I’d hoped to have been wearing it again long before now.
    I sighed, glanced up at the deck where Dina had been dancing a few minutes before,