Sleeping Cruelty

by Lynda La Plante

  ‘Poor woman was driven into a corner, wouldn’t you say, Cedric?’

  Cedric looked up, a smear of mayonnaise on his chin. ‘So you admit it?’ he said. William was taken aback. ‘Oh, yes, you and your shady life,’ spluttered Cedric. ‘It was always clear to us she’d made a mistake marrying you. Marrying money’s all very well, but …’ He dived down to the table and spooned more potato salad on to his paper plate. ‘Mind you, funny that with all your millions you couldn’t keep her in the manner to which she was accustomed. Pity you couldn’t have been more like me. I’m very protective of my wife and young Clarissa.’

  William looked him in the eye. ‘It’s just other people’s families you steal from? Is that it, Cedric?’ The other man returned his stare, wide-eyed. ‘Maybe you haven’t actually calculated just how much you sponged off Katherine, but in case you are not aware of it, I have it all in black and white.’

  ‘You feeling all right?’ Cedric enquired. ‘Maybe all those high jinks addled your brain.’

  ‘I could take it to the police, of course. To fund your bloody stables and to support her gambling, Katherine embezzled her own kids’ trust funds.’

  ‘Not a police matter, you’ll find. She was family.’

  ‘Family? You piece of shit. I’ve seen the letters she wrote, begging you to repay her because she was scared she’d get into trouble. She was stealing money I’d provided for my children’s future.’

  Cedric shrugged. ‘Well, you’ve plenty more.’ He pointed his white plastic fork at William. ‘Matter of fact, I was going to ask you whether you’d like to invest in a little filly I’ve got my eye on.’

  William threw back his head and laughed. The man’s gall was beyond belief. ‘You ever heard the expression “payback time”? I instructed my lawyers to contact you about returning loans dating back to—’

  ‘Payback? I don’t know what you’re getting at, old boy.’ Cedric was concentrating on recharging his fork with a dollop of Coronation Chicken.

  ‘You are in financial shit, Cedric. By payback I mean cough up what you owe. And another meaning of that expression is to do with getting you back for being a thieving two-faced bastard!’ William strode across the hall and, nodding at his children and Jacob, indicated that he was leaving. He waited at the door while they all made their excuses.

  Cedric’s daughter, Clarissa, sidled up to William. ‘Uncle William,’ she simpered, ‘I’m coming up to my last term at school, and I was wondering whether you could find me a place in your office or whatever it is …’ She gave him a winsome smile.

  ‘What are your qualifications?’ he said.

  ‘Oh, I haven’t any. I just need something to tide me over for a while.’

  ‘Or somewhere to sit and file your nails while you get paid for it?’ said William.

  Clarissa giggled. ‘Well … Daddy said you wouldn’t mind.’

  ‘Did he indeed? Well, dear, get some qualifications. If a job comes up and you’re better than the other applicants, I’ll think about it.’

  Clarissa stared and reddened. ‘Daddy and Mummy were right. You are a pig.’

  William strode out to the car and climbed in, breathing deeply to regain calm.

  He was exhausted that night but, yet again, couldn’t sleep. It had been one hell of a day. Cedric and his wretched daughter’s remarks at the funeral had put the tin lid on it. What had he got to lose? Justin had gone back to Paris, but the more William tossed and turned, the more he thought about him and about all the vicious backstabbing. His mind drifted back to the day he had discovered Maynard’s body, and all that had happened since then. He would like to put them all through the same torment they had inflicted on him. Then it dawned on him that that was exactly what Justin had described. My God! He’d like to see that bastard Cedric caught on camera with more than his pants down. Only now did William see the funny side of it. He reached for the phone, but then realized the time. He lay back on his pillows and laughed.

  As though by divine intuition, Justin phoned the following morning. His timing was perfect, as always. ‘I’m on the four o’clock train,’ he yelled down the Gare du Nord pay-phone. ‘I’ll be with you in a few hours.’

  ‘I’ll pick you up at Waterloo.’

  ‘Let’s get the invitations out today,’ William said as they drove away from the station.

  Justin laughed. ‘Sure, why not?’

  William leaned forward and opened the glove compartment. ‘I’ve made out a new list, short and sweet.’

  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 lac
k 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.

  Dear William

  I have no ambition left, just heartbreak and terrible longing.

  I am sorry,

  Andrew

  William delved around in his desk and withdrew more letters. In one, written to him on thin airmail paper, Andrew had signed off ‘Longing to return to work’. It was the word ‘longing’ that did not match the suicide note. The letter ‘L’ was looped on the note but Maynard’s Ls were straighter. He chewed his lip.

  The office door banged open and Justin appeared. ‘Right, we’re all set. We leave early in the morning, first flight out.’

  William looked up, covering his papers.

  ‘Did you hear what I just said?’

  ‘Yes, yes, just clearing my desk, join you in a moment.’

  Justin closed the door and William sat for a few moments longer. He knew that Justin had been the main beneficiary in Andrew’s will, but that had been a mere few thousand. What was he thinking of? He gathered up his papers, replaced them in the drawer and joined Justin in the drawing room.

  Chapter Fourteen

  William was holding his ‘script’, making final notes as Justin joined him after his morning swim.

  ‘Morning,’ Justin said cheerily.

  ‘Morning. I’ve been rethinking a few moves.’

  Justin held out his hand for the thick pile of carefully typed notes.

  ‘Can’t afford any mistakes,’ William said. ‘We’ve only got two more days. So let’s start from the top. I don’t think I should be on the jetty to greet everyone.’

  Justin raised an eyebrow. ‘Why not?’

  ‘Angela might just freak; who knows how she’s going to feel at seeing me again? She might persuade Matlock to do a U-turn off the island.’ Justin nodded. ‘So, you make up some excuse, say I’ve been delayed. It’ll be more dramatic and I’ll make a good entrance after they get nice and relaxed … What do you think?’

  Justin nodded. It irritated him that William was making this last-minute adjustment but he had to admit it made sense. ‘Anything else?’

  ‘Yes.’ There was a heavy pause. ‘Partly to protect myself …’ William began and paused. ‘When things get under way, perhaps I should find some excuse to leave the island. This will obviously protect me from any repercussions, should there be any.’

  Justin couldn’t have asked for an easier way to make sure William was out of the way when the game commenced. Nevertheless, he sighed and studied William with a concerned look. ‘I don’t know about that. It sounds as if you’re backing out.’

  ‘Think about it, Justin. I get called away – we’ll make up some emergency. I travel to London for a few days and what goes on here has nothing to do with me because I wasn’t here. And it’ll leave Laura alone. It’s a far better idea than me staying.’

  ‘You’re right,’ Justin said. ‘You’re a wily old codger, aren’t you?’

  William shrugged. His plan meant that whatever Justin and Laura got up to his hands would be clean. He hadn’t liked the ruse about the Prime Minister being a guest and was worried it might cause problems.

  ‘But you’ll be here for their arrival. You don’t want to miss that, do you?’ Justin asked.

  ‘’Course not. I’ll hide in one of the beach houses and make a grand entrance. In fact, you could say I got called away again to check on security for the rest of the guests.’

  ‘My, my, you’ve thought of everything, haven’t you?’ Justin said, with a grin.

 
; William was thoroughly enjoying himself. He loved the script sessions, which invariably involved discussions with the staff, who had been briefed one by one: Dahlia would co-ordinate the ‘girls’ who, on the surface, were attentive servants, their other attributes to be offered quietly at the right moment. The handsome Kurt had been primed to prepare workouts and ‘special extras’. The massage rooms, sauna, steam room and the gym were all filmed continuously, as was every other area of the island. Every sexual predilection could be catered for and recorded.

  Opening night was near, the cast waiting in the wings, but the man still nominally deemed the ring-master remained supremely unaware that Justin was pulling the strings. It was obvious to all except himself that William Benedict was dancing to Justin’s tune. Nevertheless, all the staff were instructed to maintain the pretence that William ran the island, and due to his rearranging sections of the plans, there was no reason for him to believe otherwise.

  Justin lowered the binoculars. He was standing precariously close to the cliff edge he had nicknamed Suicide Point because of the sheer drop down to the rocks below. He could hear the plane but it was hidden by clouds. He looked down, without trepidation, at the swirling, foaming water below, battering against the lethal, jagged rocks.

  ‘Here we go,’ he said. ‘William, time for you to hide.’

  William’s stomach churned. So many months and all this preparation. He crossed his fingers. ‘Good luck,’ he said.

  ‘You know the agenda, William. Wait till the coast is clear, then into the seaplane. A launch is waiting for you just beyond the two rocks.’

  ‘Roger and out,’ said William, saluting.

  Through the clouds, the seaplane suddenly emerged, much lower. ‘I’ll wireless you when we need the love scene!’ Justin yelled after William, who laughed as he headed for his prepared hiding place.

  Justin trained his binoculars on the seaplane. It dropped lower and lower, and then, like an osprey, hovered before swooping down to the waves. It made a smooth landing on the water, then motored slowly towards the jetty. Justin made his way down there, training the binoculars on the disembarking passengers. Baron and Baroness von Garten were already on the quayside, looking around with astonishment. Even with their nonchalant disregard for the trappings of vast wealth, they were unable to hide their surprise. ‘You ain’t seen nothin’ yet,’ murmured Justin.