Things We Do in the Dark(17)

“May I see it?” Elsie is annoyed.

“I’d like to see it, too,” the judge says.

“We’ve made copies for you both.”

Salazar hands two documents to the bailiff, who brings one to the judge. The other he hands to Elsie, who puts on her reading glasses. A few minutes pass as both women scan the document. Paris glances over at Elsie, but the lawyer’s face gives nothing away.

“What is the current value of Jimmy Peralta’s estate?” The judge directs her question to Salazar.

“The estimate is eighty million, Your Honor.” The prosecutor pauses and clears his throat. “Which means that Paris Peralta is set to inherit approximately forty-six million dollars. Give or take a million.”

Paris’s jaw drops.

Behind her, the courtroom erupts, louder than all the previous times. The judge bangs her gavel, asking for order, but the noise begins to drift away as Paris attempts to understand what she just heard.

Jimmy was worth eighty million? That can’t be right. If it is, that means Jimmy was already worth tens of millions before his comeback. While she did suspect that Jimmy actually had more money than he was telling her, she never imagined it would be this much. It was one thing for her husband to underestimate his net worth, and a whole other thing to blatantly lie about being filthy stinking rich.

Zoe’s dry voice floats into her head. Optics, Paris.

This is a disaster.

“Anything to say, Ms. Dixon?” the judge asks.

Elsie’s face is stone. “No, Your Honor.”

The judge looks directly at Paris, taking off her own reading glasses. “Paris Peralta, please stand.”

Paris stands. On either side of her, Elsie and Hazel stand, too.

“Paris Peralta, you are charged with murder in the first degree in the death of James Peralta. How do you plead?”

The courtroom is quiet. Paris doesn’t realize she hasn’t answered until she feels Elsie’s elbow in her ribs.

“Not guilty,” she says, her voice faint.

“We request remand, Your Honor,” Nico Salazar says. “Mrs. Peralta is obviously a flight risk. She’s a very wealthy woman who has friends with private jets.”

Jesus Christ. That was one friend, and it was Jimmy’s friend, who sure as shit won’t be lending Paris his G280 if he actually thinks she murdered his buddy.

“We request reasonable bail, Your Honor.” The wind has been knocked out of Elsie, and the strength in her voice sounds forced. “My client cannot inherit anything from her husband’s estate if she’s found responsible for his death, and any funds she’s entitled to receive will be withheld until she’s acquitted. That being said, there’s no reason Mrs. Peralta can’t await trial at home, where she can be monitored by ankle bracelet. She will surrender her passport.”

“Bail is set at five million, cash or bond.”

Bang.





CHAPTER SEVEN


Unlike what Paris has seen on TV, you can’t just get in the car and go home because the judge says you can. Calls must be made, funds must be transferred, paperwork must be signed.

It takes the rest of the day for her to arrange the bail amount. She doesn’t have five million dollars of assets she can guarantee to the court, so her only choice is to pay a bond company a 10 percent premium, which she’ll never get back. Her condo—for which she has clear title, thanks to Jimmy—is worth around seven hundred thousand. Her bank allows her to borrow against 80 percent of that, so she’s able to transfer half a million dollars directly to the bond company.

The jeweler agrees to buy back her wedding ring for half of what Jimmy paid for it, and the car dealership will take back the Tesla for 15 percent less than the current blue book value. She doesn’t have to sell either just yet, but it may very well come to that if her legal situation isn’t resolved in the next few months. If her calculations are correct, she’ll be right back to where she was financially when she met Jimmy.

It feels strangely full circle.

And after all this, Paris can’t even go home. The house on Queen Anne Hill is a crime scene, and there’s no word on when it will be released. A married couple with a baby is living in her condo. Henry offers her his spare bedroom, but he and Brent live in a very small house, and the quickest way to ruin a friendship is to impose.

Luckily, the Emerald Hotel is only ten minutes away from the courthouse. Elsie drives her over and doesn’t speak to her at all until they get there. When she finally does say something, her tone is clipped.

“Jimmy’s corporation has an account with the Emerald.” Elsie doesn’t pull up to the front doors of the boutique luxury hotel. Instead, she drives to the back of the building and parks her Mercedes right in front of the doors designated for deliveries. A tall, thin man dressed in a green blazer with the hotel’s insignia appears to be waiting for them. “You can stay here as long as you need to. It’s all been arranged.”

“Elsie, you have to know I didn’t make Jimmy change his will,” Paris says as they both get out of the car. Out of habit, she reaches for her purse, only to remember she doesn’t have it with her. She doesn’t have anything. “We never talked about money. Could we all … contest it somehow?”

“Why would any of us contest it?” Elsie looks at her, and it’s clear Paris just asked the world’s stupidest question. “You inherit, I inherit, Zoe inherits. Jimmy had no children and no other family than you, so there’s no one to contest the will, because we all benefit.”