Justin unfolded it. He glanced down it, then closed his eyes in relief. Humphrey Matlock’s name was at the top of the list, followed by the Hangerford family. Then came Baron and Baroness von Garten, Meryl Delaware and a few others he hadn’t heard of.
Justin looked at William and shook his head. ‘Too many. Do you really need to bother with that wretched Delaware woman? She’s a raddled old cow, not worth the effort.’
‘She was one of the gossipmongers sniffing around poor Maynard. I’d like to see her squirm.’
‘Fair enough, but just get her sacked. She’s not worth any more trouble than that.’
‘Scratch her off, then.’
‘The von Gartens have a son.’ Justin giggled. ‘Maybe invite him along. He’ll be company for Matlock’s boy.’ Justin stared out of the window. ‘No drug clinic for him, not like your poor Charlie. This kid’s a real golden boy. Athletics, tennis, does the lot.’
‘Invite him, then,’ said William, recalling the boy’s shares in his father’s company.
‘Good, it’ll look better. The kids can have a holiday of a lifetime... whilst your Charlie’s in a rehab clinic and your daughter...’ Justin had to think this one out carefully, get the balance right. He wanted to rub it in, but he didn’t want to go too far. ‘I’d say your public humiliation made Sabrina throw away her career. Son-in-law’s perhaps acceptable, but—’
‘I don’t mind that she’s with Jacob,’ William snapped, flushing.
‘But you have to care that she’s only sixteen, for Christ’s sake. She’s a clever kid, isn’t she?’
‘Yes,’ William said. His lips tightened and his anger against his dead wife resurfaced. It wasn’t just the divorce, the refusal to allow him access to his children, it was so much more, culminating in the loss of their respect and love, not to mention their trust funds. ‘Yes, we include their kids,’ he said coldly.
Justin smiled. He and Laura would quite enjoy the boys for starters, especially Matlock’s son.
‘So, it’s Matlock, his wife Angela and son, Baron von Garten, his wife and son, and the Hangerfords. Nine is a nice easy number to control. You don’t want to get too ambitious.’
They drove in silence for a moment before William laughed. ‘I’m looking forward to seeing them all arrive on the island. Let’s just hope they accept.’
‘They will,’ Justin said, and even placed a fifty-pound bet on who would reply first.
But William shook his head. ‘No, I won’t play around, not any more, Justin. This is too important. If we don’t hear within a week or so, we’ll get Michael to make a personal call on my behalf. Fuck it, I’ll make the calls myself, better that way.’
‘If you have to,’ Justin said, and suggested that, if need be, William could renew his friendship with Angela Matlock, just to ensure an acceptance. ‘After all, it’s a very special Paradise—’
‘Trap,’ William said.
First to reply was the ‘horse thief ’, as Justin had nicknamed Cedric. He was soon followed by Baron and Baroness von Garten’s acceptance, but the Matlocks did not reply, and William, to Justin’s frustration, flatly refused to make personal contact with Angela. ‘You just remember who’s running the bloody show,’ he said. ‘I do not want to contact Angela fucking Matlock. You get him there, or get that bloody Sylvina to help. Just get Matlock on to the island.’
‘If you want Matlock, you shall have him.’
The truth was, Justin was at a loss as to how to handle Matlock’s lack of interest. He never replied to an invitation and he was impossible to get to. He was an obsessively private man whose only interest apart from making money was fishing.
Strangely enough it was an article published in one of his own newspapers that gave them Humphrey Matlock. Meryl Delaware lunched with Justin at the Ivy and Justin leaked to her there, in confidential tones, the names of the guests who were to stay at the spectacular island. On pain of death, she must not mention Sir William Benedict’s name, he said. Neither should she mention that the Prime Minister and his wife had been invited. So was... Justin leaned close to her ear, and whispered.
‘No, that can’t be true. Are you kidding? But he’s Matlock’s biggest rival. Are you sure?’
Justin grinned and rubbed together finger and thumb. ‘Money, my darling. He’s switching parties, so rumour has it, and with wealth like that...’
Meryl Delaware had a scoop she had to handle carefully. But that blond boy couldn’t be trusted and printing even the smallest hint about the ‘Big White Chief ’ might have dire repercussions for her waning career. At five she decided to call his PR woman, who she detested but lunched with. Perhaps now all those lunch bills she had met would start to pay off...
Elaine Dunn’s crisp voice was eventually on the line. ‘Sorry to keep you waiting, Meryl, but the Chief’s in today. What can I do for you?’
Meryl dragged on her cigarette. ‘Actually Elaine darling, it’s about your numero uno. I’ve heard a rumour and I just wanted you to verify it.’
‘Well, you know, Meryl, if there’s anything—’
‘It’s just an enquiry, Elaine. I don’t want to know who he’s shafting! It’s just — can you tell me if it’s true that he’s a guest with the Prime Minister on Sir William Benedict’s island this Christmas?’
There was a pause then Elaine’s voice lowered. ‘I don’t think so. I know he received an invitation but I’m sure he turned it down. For God’s sake don’t print that.’
‘Oh, I won’t, of course I won’t. I just wanted to check out the truth of the story. Both Matlock and his bête noire have been invited, you see. Do you know anything at all?’
‘No more than I’ve just told you and now I really have to go — we must have lunch.’
‘Yes, we must,’ Meryl said, as the phone went dead. She drained her glass and lit another cigarette. ‘Lying little shit.’ She thought of Justin. Still, she’d had a free lunch.
Elaine, however, wrote a memo and passed it to Matlock’s private secretary: the note said she had it on reliable information that the Prime Minister was to join a party on the most exclusive Caribbean island for Christmas. The other guest rumoured also to have been invited was Matlock’s biggest competitor.
Meryl Delaware had played right into Justin’s hands: there was no way Matlock would walk away from an invitation of this calibre. But she had slightly overplayed her relationship with Elaine. After Elaine discovered that Matlock had accepted the invitation, she was warned that he wanted his privacy guarded and required the source of the rumour about his vacation. Elaine was asked to speak to him personally. ‘The woman really is a bit of a lush nowadays, sir. I have no idea how she came to know about the guest-lists, but I’ll make sure it’s never printed.’
‘That has already been taken care of, but thank you for your diligence. It is greatly appreciated.’
Elaine sighed with relief. Matlock never appeared to acknowledge Meryl Delaware, or Elaine’s indiscretion in speaking with her, but the cryptic message that went round to all editors and magazines was that Matlock’s organization no longer required the services of gossip-columnist Meryl Delaware.
Later that evening, as Justin made arrangements for their departure to the island, William was in his study, sifting through documents that required his signature. He was pleased to note that the case against the Baron was now moving forward swiftly. Perhaps that was why the stuck-up bastard had accepted the invitation.
Then his mood swung to a darker place. He had found an envelope from the Metropolitan Police. It contained a short note of sympathy and enclosed Andrew Maynard’s suicide note in a plastic cover. William sat staring at the waterstained note with the blurred writing. Then he opened a drawer and searched through it until he found an old memo from Maynard. He compared the two pieces of writing. Obviously the police must have checked that it was authentic but to William something was wrong. He took into consideration that Maynard must have been drunk and drugged, so perhaps his scrawling, looped hand would appear different.