Page 156 of One of Us Is Guilty

‘I’ll take you to the rear staircase,’ said the security guard. Before she went round the side of the house, Vanessa looked past the security, through the glass doors.

The hallway was lit with tasteful lamps and candles, just as she had planned. Melissa, the property manager, had decorated the house just as Vanessa had instructed. Rattan chairs, the oars on the wall, and the ship’s wheel, the barometers, and most important of all, the ship’s lamps.

This was exactly how she had envisaged it. Melissa had carried out her instructions to the letter.

This was how the house was supposed to be decorated for her anniversary party that Patrick had cancelled. Two years married.

She also saw fleeting glances of the assembled guests in their black ties and chic designer dresses. Mostly old men and young wives.

She followed the security guard round the side of the house, through a door and up a flight of stairs. This was essentially a well-decorated fire escape.

Patrick stood at the top of the staircase. Hands in his pockets. He moved aside as she came to the wide, spacious second-floor landing.

The guard left via the main staircase, and stood at the bottom to make sure none of the guests ventured upstairs while business was being conducted. Sitting on a couch behind the large sea-view window, Julian Vanderpool waited in a sharp black tuxedo. This area was her favorite part of the house. The landing spread from this generous upstairs lounge area, round to the right where there was abathroom. Beside it stood a hall table arranged with smooth white sea stones and distressed wood, and a ship’s lamp burning with warm light. Beyond that were the bedrooms.

No one else on this floor.

This was private, family business.

On the table in front of Julian were three glasses of champagne.

‘I need a drink,’ said Patrick. ‘Thought we could all use one.’ He took a glass for himself and handed one to Vanessa.

She couldn’t help but notice Patrick’s hands shaking, ever so slightly, as he gave her the glass. She took a sip.

So did Patrick.

‘What the fuck is this? A reunion?’ asked Julian. ‘Give me an account number, Vanessa, and I’ll wire you one hundred million dollars now, and you’ll sign a no-fault divorce and you get ten per cent of Patrick’s net worth. I’ll arrange the transfer of the money right now. But I want to see the bracelet first.’

Taking another sip of the champagne, Vanessa never took her focus from this old, dangerous man. He was hard to look at. The blood-drenched eyes betrayed the liver problems that had plagued him from a long history of alcohol abuse. Not that he cared. If anything, Julian enjoyed causing those in his company some level of discomfort however he could.

‘I said I wanted half of Patrick’s worth. That’s what we agreed. I want to see that divorce agreement,’ said Vanessa.

‘You want three billion dollars? Because that’s what this amounts to, half of his worth. You weren’t with Patrick for his good looks and charm. You’re a player. You may have fooled my idiot kid, but you never fooled me. Where’s the bracelet?’

‘I want this over tonight. I need the heads of agreement signed by me and Patrick. The lawyers can work out the legalese, but I need something binding.’

‘You’re a real piece of work,’ said Julian. ‘Show me the bracelet.’

‘Show me the agreement. You know, Patrick shouldn’t havebought that bracelet at Seinfeld’s. They have meticulous records of their client’s purchases. I know – I have one of their rings,’ she said, and glanced at her engagement ring. ‘The bracelet will have Molly’s DNA all over it. And Seinfeld’s will confirm Patrick bought it. A gift like that? What, eighty grand’s worth of diamonds? That’s a gift for a lover, not a PA. That’s the evidence the DA will need to prove the affair. It won’t take long for them to figure out it was you who sent the painters to Molly’s apartment after Patrick panicked and called you that night. You want me to give the bracelet to you, or the police? If you want it, I need to see the agreement.’

Patrick shifted his weight on his heels nervously, rocking side to side.

‘Dad, just show her the agreement,’ said Patrick.

‘Fuck the both of you,’ said Julian, and took a document from his tuxedo jacket.

He threw it on the floor. Patrick knelt down, picked it up and gave it to Vanessa.

A single page, agreeing to divorce and equal split of Patrick’s total net worth, an estimated payout for Vanessa of three billion dollars.

‘Do you have a pen?’ asked Vanessa.

‘Before you sign this, I need to see what we’re buying. It’s not in your purse, I know that,’ said Julian.

‘I have it on me. I just need some privacy to retrieve it. Couldn’t really just pop something so valuable in my purse, now, could I?’

Patrick drew a pen from his pocket, and signed and dated beside his name.