Chapter 5
Patrick Vanderpool
Six weeks prior to the murder of Molly Green
‘I might have to cancel that Hamptons thing,’ said Patrick, from the bedroom.
As he let those words into the air, he froze in front of the bedroom mirror, his tie pinched between his fingers, collar up, ready to make his attempt at a half-Windsor knot, head cocked to the side, listening for a response from their adjoining bathroom.
Nothing.
Volcanoes don’t suddenly erupt. There are warning signs – harmonic tremors, deformations in the surrounding earth, rising magma, temperature changes and a strong odor of sulfur.
He thought for a moment she hadn’t heard him, but he couldn’t hear the faucet running, or the high drone from a hairdryer, so he guessed that she heard him just fine.
‘By thing, you mean our anniversary party?’ she said, from the bathroom.
Shit.
‘I’m going to the house this morning to check out the new décor. Let me know,’ she said.
He heard her heels first, on the inch-thick polished mahogany flooring that she’d had done last year. Amazing – how he could tell his wife’s mood by the sound of her heels on the floor.
She swished into the bedroom, dressed in dark pants, a cream off-the-shoulder cashmere sweater with a huge collar, and a thick black leather belt with an oversized gold buckle cinched around her waist.
He was expecting some comeback.
‘My father moved heaven and earth to help Geoff set up the podcast interview. You get more ears and eyeballs on YouTube and Spotify than primetime TV these days. I can’t let my father down. You know what he’s like . . .’
She nodded, and said nothing, but she smiled at him as she left.
He thought about that smile while he finished dressing. It wasn’t a loving look. It was something else. Her eyes had been pinched, her lips tight.
That smile had been full of pity. She knew what Julian Vanderpool was like.
Patrick had told her some of the stories.
She knew he didn’t want to be governor, or mayor, or congressman, and he sure as shit didn’t want to work for his father, but there was no escaping him.
Julian had high ambitions for his son, and Patrick could not let him down. He always did what Daddy told him.
Always.
He felt angry at her now. He didn’t want her pity. He wasn’t some schmuck. He was a Vanderpool.
As his father continuously reminded him.
Before going downstairs, he went into the bathroom, opened the cabinet above his personal sink, moved the mouthwash to one side and grabbed the gift he had hidden there.
An electric thrill quivered across his back as he put it in his pocket.
As Patrick sat in his war room, previously his dining room, he stared at the top of Molly Green’s head. Like always, she had her eyes down, pointed at her iPad screen. She flicked through the days on a calendar app, making notes on her phone of the important meetings, which were color-coded red.
‘I’ve got something for you,’ said Patrick.
She looked up, and he handed her the gift bag he’d been hiding in his bathroom cabinet.
She opened it, and her mouth gaped as wide as the lid on the box.
‘Oh my God, it’s beautiful,’ said Molly.
‘Here, let me,’ he said, and took it from the box, then laid it over her wrist and fastened the clasp. Her gorgeous eyes danced with the glare from the diamonds.
‘It’s from Seinfeld’s,’ he said.
‘Are you kidding me? It must have cost a fortune.’
‘It’s not that. I . . . I just wish it was something else.’
‘What?’
‘A diamond ring,’ he said softly, almost a whisper.
She checked the door, listened for a moment, then leaned over and kissed him.
‘I need you to sign off on these campaign ads,’ said Heidi before she strode into the room.
They broke apart, both of them grinning like teens in love.
Molly looked up, watching Heidi stride confidently over to Patrick. Heidi was tall, blonde, good-looking. She put the mock-up ads in front of Patrick, leaned over him and turned her head toward Molly.
‘These look fine to me,’ he said.
Heidi smiled at both of them. It was a knowing smile.
Geoff came in and turned on the flatscreen TV mounted on the wall.
‘You’ve got to see this news report. Heidi, wait here. I need to put a hold on those ads. We might want to change the copy, emphasize Coleridge is weak on crime. Wait till you see this.’
He found a local news channel, turned up the volume.
The front door opened.
Heels on the floor.
Vanessa was back.
Patrick ignored whatever Geoff was mouthing off about on the news, lightly touched Molly’s arm. She smiled at him, and he flicked a finger at the bracelet. Molly glanced at it, then rolled her sleeve down over it and put her arms on the desk.
‘How’s things in the war room?’ said Vanessa.
Molly’s head shot up, startled. She shuffled her chair a couple of inches away from Patrick.
‘Darling,’ said Patrick, ‘you’re back. How’s everything at the house?’
‘It looks great. Don’t let me keep you from your plotting. Molly, do you think we could have a quick word?’
Molly got up and followed Vanessa into the kitchen.
Patrick needed something to drink. With Geoff on the warpath, it was going to be a long day. As he entered the hallway, he heard whispering from the kitchen. Slowing his pace, he made sure to make his footsteps quiet as he approached.
Molly had her back to him.
Vanessa was glaring at her, then she flicked her gaze toward him and then straight back to Molly.
Her eyes softened, she leaned back, her shoulders relaxing.
When Vanessa spoke again, it was back to a normal conversational volume, ‘How are you fitting in with the rest of the team? Heidi still giving you a hard time?’
He needed to be more careful. Molly needed to be careful too. Vanessa was not to be underestimated. She had impressed his father when they’d first met.
Be careful, he told himself.
Or this would all end badly.