Paris considers this for a minute. It was a little intense, Zoe and Jimmy’s relationship. His assistant had known better than most how much he’d struggled with his addiction and mental health issues. Even using one time was dangerous, and if she really did care about her boss, the best thing she could have done was speak up.
A sense of unease washes over Paris. Had Zoe duped her yesterday?
Elsie reaches into her briefcase and pulls out a printed document with at least two dozen pages. She flips through it, then stops at a highlighted paragraph. She pokes the page with a coral-painted fingernail. “Read this.”
It’s Jimmy’s will. Paris reads the paragraph carefully, which states that Zoe Moffatt will inherit five million dollars.
“Okay,” she says to Elsie. “We knew that already.”
Elsie flips the pages again until she gets to another highlighted paragraph. “Now read this.”
It appears to be the section of the will where Jimmy’s corporate holdings are detailed, and a lot of it is worded in legalese that goes over Paris’s head. She has to read it three times before she understands it, and when she finally does, her mouth drops open.
Zoe Moffatt will inherit 20 percent of all Jimmy’s earnings from the Quan deal.
“The prosecutor made such a big show of telling the courtroom how much money you’d be getting as Jimmy’s wife,” Elsie says. “But he never mentioned anything about what Zoe would be receiving on top of her five million. Salazar knew it would muddy the waters, and he didn’t want to say anything that would take away the focus from you, the prime suspect.”
The lawyer leans forward. “Everyone knows that the Quan deal was worth thirty million. Twenty percent of that is—”
“Six million.” Paris continues to scrutinize the paragraph. “And Zoe would have received another twenty percent for the third special, had there been one. But even without it, she’s getting eleven million dollars.”
That was a hell of a lot of money for somebody who, in her own words, didn’t even do much because Quan came to Jimmy, and so most of what she helped with was just “regular assistant stuff.”
“What did Jimmy leave her in the original will?” Paris’s voice is faint as she works to process it all.
“Not a dime.” Elsie’s face is grim. “Look, I’m not saying she killed him, because I don’t think anybody did. I truly believe Jimmy died by suicide, as do you. But Zoe is the one who made sure you were arrested. Making you look guilty of murder is an effective way to distract people from suspecting that maybe she was the one who got Jimmy to change his will.”
“But she apologized,” Paris says in wonder. “She really seemed sorry.”
She sits with it for a moment, second-guessing every second of her conversation with Zoe from the day before.
“So what now?” she finally asks.
“You get some rest, that’s what now,” Elsie says briskly. “I’ll be back in the morning for your meeting with Sonny.”
“I thought you weren’t my lawyer anymore.”
“I’m not.” The older woman stands, and Paris follows her to the front door. “I’ll be here to consult. As a friend. And as your friend, I’m going to remind you to be completely honest with Sonny about everything. Be as transparent as possible.”
There’s another round of camera flashes as Elsie steps out. Paris shuts the door and then leans against it.
Transparent? When has she ever been transparent in her life?
* * *
The newest letter from Ruby is not on lavender-colored stationery, nor was it mailed from Sainte-élisabeth, Quebec. This one arrives in a plain white envelope, and the return address is in Maple Sound, Ontario. Which means one thing.
Ruby Reyes is officially a free woman.
Dear Paris,
My deepest condolences on your recent loss, and my most heartfelt congratulations on your newfound wealth. In light of recent circumstances, I believe ten million would now be the appropriate amount. My banking information is included below.
You’ll be glad to know I finally found your urn. I assumed your Tita Flora would have set it in a place of honor, but it seems she doesn’t have the fondest memories of you. In any case, once I receive the money, I will lovingly scatter your ashes in the lake, so that you may rest in peace forever.
By the way, did you kill your husband? You can tell me. I’ll keep your secret. I’m happy to keep all your secrets, so long as I’m properly rewarded.