Page 157 of One of Us Is Guilty

Then waited.

‘I’ll just be a moment,’ said Vanessa.

It was ten feet to the bathroom, in the corner of the landing. She entered, closed and used the key to lock the door. She placed her glass of champagne by the sink and stared into the mirror.

Her jaw trembled.

If she didn’t get a hold of herself now, Julian would realize something was wrong. Yes, he would expect her to be nervous, but not shaking with fear. He had a better sense of her true self than her husband ever had.

Another hit from the champagne.

That would help.

She had a plan. One that had been adjusted recently, but everything was in its place. There were things that had to be done, right now.

There was no going back.

She opened her purse, took out her perfume bottle, carefully pulled off the atomizer from the top and tipped enough liquid into her champagne glass that it would appear level to when she had come into the bathroom. It would be enough. The liquid was powerful. She replaced the atomizer on the top of the perfume bottle.

She put her perfume back in her purse, then knelt on the floor in front of the toilet.

Reaching around behind the cistern, her right hand searched, feeling along the cold, dusty porcelain until . . .

Her fingers touched the handle of the flathead screwdriver. She pulled, twisted, and yanked it free from the duct tape that had held it in place. Still on the floor, she placed the head of the screwdriver into the shut-off valve for the water supply.

Turned it off.

There was now no water coming to the toilet or the little sink.

She put the screwdriver in her Gucci purse, stood and flushed the toilet.

She listened.

No sound of the cistern filling. The water at the bottom of the bowl sank until it all but disappeared.

Vanessa lifted her dress, peeled the baggy containing the bracelet from her belly, and adjusted the hem back down, smoothing out the fabric.

She chanced one last gaze in the mirror.

This was it.

She unlocked the bathroom door, took the key, put it in her purse and shut it. Then bracelet in one hand, champagne flute in the other, purse over her shoulder, she left the bathroom.

Julian had got up from his seat and stood now a few feet from Patrick. Waiting for her. Patrick’s eyes met hers, and she read the alarm in his expression.

At first, she couldn’t figure out what was wrong. Then, she saw it.

Julian held one of his expensive cigars in one hand, and a mother-of-pearl-handled cigar cutter in the other. He clipped the cap off the cigar as he watched her come closer. He put the cutter in his pants pocket, then patted his jacket for a lighter.

‘Do you want this?’ she asked, and tossed him the bracelet.

He caught it with his free hand, then placed the cigar between his teeth while he held the bracelet and baggy in both hands, turning it over, then holding it up to the light. Once he was satisfied, he took the cigar from his lips and held it, unlit in his right hand.

‘Seinfeld’s have some lovely pieces. This one is a little more expensive. I can give you fifty for it,’ said Julian.

‘I thought we had an agreement,’ said Vanessa sternly. She would have liked to work up to this moment, to argue and allow the situation to become increasingly intense, but now Julian had the cigar in his hand she had no time.

‘We had a deal,’ she said.