Things We Do in the Dark(16)

Beside her, Elsie snorts. The judge turns to her. “Counselor?”

Paris’s lawyer stands. “Elsie Dixon, Your Honor, defense counsel for Mrs. Peralta. Nothing Mr. Salazar said here is true. What happened to Jimmy Peralta is tragic, but it’s not murder. My client is not set to inherit anything but a boilerplate sum of money specified in the same prenuptial agreement that Mr. Peralta asked his last two wives to sign. While it’s a significant sum at one million dollars, it’s nowhere near enough to keep my client in the lifestyle she enjoyed during the marriage. With her husband dead, Mrs. Peralta’s financial circumstances will not be enough to keep her in her marital home indefinitely. The monthly upkeep alone exceeds her current income.”

Elsie told her not to react, but it takes a Herculean effort for Paris to hide her shock. She knew a million dollars wouldn’t be enough to allow her to continue living as she’d been living, but it never occurred to her that if Jimmy died, she’d be homeless. The condo she owns is currently rented, and the tenants have a year to go on their lease. If Paris can’t afford to continue living in the house, where is she supposed to go?

Then again, they don’t charge you rent in prison.

“In addition,” Elsie continues, “having known Jimmy Peralta personally for fifty years, I can attest to his struggles with addiction and depression. He’s had multiple trips to rehab, has overdosed twice, and attempted suicide once before. The toxicology report shows he started using drugs again. He was also experiencing memory lapses, which we believe would have negatively affected his mental health. We can provide medical records for all of this, Your Honor. As difficult as this is to say, we do believe Jimmy Peralta died by suicide.”

There’s a low buzz in the courtroom. The judge turns back to the prosecutor. “Mr. Salazar?”

“Until we can confirm what state of health Jimmy Peralta was in at the time of his death, here’s what we do know.” Salazar speaks confidently. “Jimmy Peralta was clean and sober for seven years. While there were drugs found in his system, the tox report cannot determine whether there was regular use of illegal narcotics, or even that he ingested those drugs willingly—”

“Which also means there’s nothing to support that he didn’t take them willingly,” Elsie fires back.

“—so it’s possible that Mrs. Peralta either encouraged her husband to use, or forced him—”

“Your Honor, I can stand here and make up wild theories, too,” Elsie says, her arms extended in disbelief. “This is ridiculous.”

The judge raises a hand. “Stick to the facts, Mr. Salazar.”

The prosecutor nods and makes a show of checking his notes. “Mr. Peralta was right-handed. The slash to his right inner thigh that ultimately severed his femoral artery doesn’t fit with a self-induced right-handed slash—”

“Your Honor, Mr. Peralta was diagnosed with a benign tremor in his right hand last year, which made it difficult for him to grip things,” Elsie interrupts. “He was learning how to use his left hand for many things. We have medical records for this, too.”

Salazar ignores her. “And when the police arrived, Mrs. Peralta was in the bathroom with her husband, who was lying dead in a tub filled with his own blood. She had the murder weapon—a straight razor—in her hand. And when asked if she killed her husband, she uttered three words: I don’t remember.”

Behind her, the buzzing in the courtroom grows louder. The judge smacks her gavel. Bang. But the prosecutor still isn’t finished.

“Last, we’ve just learned that Paris Peralta is set to inherit a significant sum of money. While the prenuptial agreement was still in place at the time of Mr. Peralta’s murder, he updated his last will and testament six weeks ago.” Nico Salazar holds up a document. “In keeping with his philanthropic nature, thirty percent of his estate will be left to various charities he supported. Five million dollars will go to his assistant, Zoe Moffatt—”

A gasp from the back. Paris doesn’t need to turn around to know that it’s Zoe.

“—and another five million is directed to Elsie Dixon, the defendant’s lawyer.”

Beside Paris, there’s a sharp intake of breath.

“The remaining amount, which makes up more than half of Jimmy Peralta’s estate,” Salazar says, his cadence slowing down just a notch, “is to go to his wife, Paris Aquino Peralta. This is a considerably larger amount than the boilerplate sum Ms. Dixon was referring to earlier.”

The buzzing in the courtroom starts up again. As instructed, Paris does her best not to react. The prosecutor seems to be implying that Paris will inherit more than she originally thought, but half of Jimmy’s estate is … what? She doesn’t know what Jimmy was worth, and there’s no way to do the math without the numbers.

Again, the judge reaches for her gavel. Bang.

“I don’t know what document Mr. Salazar is looking at,” Elsie says, shaking her head in disgust, “but as the attorney who personally drafted Jimmy Peralta’s last will and testament, I can say that Mr. Salazar is absolutely incorrect. The amount Mrs. Peralta is set to receive upon her husband’s death is the exact same amount specified in the prenup. One million dollars, no more, no less.”

“As I said, Your Honor, this is a new will.” Salazar holds it up again. “It was drafted by a different firm than Ms. Dixon’s, and it supersedes everything before it.”