“I could say the same about you.”
It’s not exactly a fresh start, but it’s safe to say they’ve turned a page.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
Paris takes a deep breath and opens Jimmy’s door. Before she can chicken out, she crosses the bedroom quickly, heading straight for his private bathroom. The scent of bleach hits her, not strong, but not faint. As Zoe promised, everything looks as it should. The white tile is white, the bathtub is shining, the glass is wiped clear.
She opens the first vanity drawer and pokes around, looking for the disposable razors she bought her husband months earlier. Oh, the drama over shaving. As she searches through the random dental floss picks, combs, hair pomades, colognes, and the electric shaver he always forgot to charge, their last argument comes back to her. They’d ended it on a compromise.
“Just give me the damn razor,” Paris had snapped. “If you’re going to insist on a straight shave, then at least let me do it for you.”
The suggestion worked. Jimmy had finally calmed down.
“This is the beginning of the end, kid,” he’d said with a dramatic sigh. He was sitting on the edge of the tub, facing the tile with his head tilted back, his face and throat slathered in shaving cream. Paris stood behind him and worked slowly, being sure to keep the exact right amount of pressure on his skin. It was her first time shaving anyone, with a straight razor or any other device. “Today, I can’t shave. A couple of years from now, I probably won’t be able to take a piss. My balls are already creeping down to my knees. I’m on the downward slide to dead.”
“Don’t you dare make me laugh, or I might accidentally cut you,” Paris told him. She leaned over to give his forehead a kiss. “You’re lucky I love you, you stubborn, cranky old man.”
She pulls open the second drawer now and sees his small collection of straight razors. Four of them, all folded to protect the blades, lined up neatly on a soft microfiber cloth. It reminds her that the police still have the one that Jimmy used on himself, and she wonders if they’ll ever return it. Jimmy owned five razors, each one with its own little backstory.
Would it be weird to have Jimmy’s straight razor collection framed? He’d cherished these razors. He was so old school in the things he loved.
“If you don’t follow the trends, you can never go out of style,” he used to quip.
A thought niggles at Paris then, and she stops. Something’s not right. When the crime scene forensic team was here, they’d photographed the bathroom extensively, including the contents of the drawers. Sonny had insisted she look at all the pictures so she’d understand the full extent of the evidence the prosecution had against her. Unless she’s misremembering, didn’t the crime scene photos show one straight razor, presumed to be the murder weapon, lying on the bathroom floor by the tub, and only three razors in the drawer?
If so, that would mean that on the day she was arrested, one razor from Jimmy’s collection was missing. And now it was … back?
She shakes her head. That can’t be right.
Opening the bottom drawer, Paris finally sees the unopened pack of Gillette safety razors that Jimmy never bothered to use. She grabs it and heads out of the bathroom.
“Hey,” Drew says from the bedroom doorway. He’s changed into regular shorts and a T-shirt. “Great water pressure in that guest bathroom. Any luck with the razor?”
“Here.” She hands him the pack of Gillettes.
“What’s the matter?” he asks. “Your face is doing a thing.”
She doesn’t answer him.
It’s possible Jimmy misplaced one of his razors. In fact, with his memory issues, it’s likely. But still …
She moves past Drew and jogs down the stairs to the kitchen. She passes Elsie sitting in Jimmy’s office, who gives her a small wave. The lawyer appears to be on a work call. Zoe is at the kitchen table, sorting through the contents of the opened packages as Creedence Clearwater Revival plays on the old Sony stereo. I wanna know, have you ever seen the rain …
Paris grabs her phone from the counter and heads back upstairs. Somewhere in her Gmail is a PDF file Sonny sent her after their first meeting, which includes the crime scene photos.
She finds the email as she enters Jimmy’s bedroom once again, and opens the attachment. She scrolls past the numerous pictures of Jimmy’s body, the blood smears, the area on the tub’s edge where Paris hit her head. Finally, she finds what she’s looking for.
In the crime scene photo, there are one, two, three straight razors in the drawer.