Page 21 of Things We Do in the Dark
“That sounds about right.”
Elsie scratches notes into her pad. “And then what?”
“When I got home, I noticed the alarm wasn’t set. But that’s not unusual, as Jimmy can’t be bothered half the time. You know how he is.”
Elsie nods without looking up.
“I went straight upstairs to get ready for bed. Jimmy always wants toknow when I’m home, no matter what time it is, so I went down the hall to his bedroom.”
“Hisbedroom?”
“Yes, his bedroom.”
Elsie raises an eyebrow. “You sleep in different rooms?”
“We do.”
“When did that start?”
“It’s what we’ve always done,” Paris says. “Neither of us sleeps well with another person in the bed. He gets hot, so he’s constantly shifting around, and the slightest movement wakes me up.”
Jimmy would be mortified if anyone knew their sleeping arrangements, but it wasn’t a big deal. What she’d just told Elsie is true—they both preferred sleeping alone. It didn’t mean anything, but people will assign meaning to everything.
“So you went into his bedroom,” Elsie says. “Was the door open or closed?”
“I can’t remember.”
“Think.”
Paris has never seen Elsie in lawyer mode, and frankly, she’s a little scary. It’s hard to reconcile this version of her with the one Paris usually sees. At Paris and Jimmy’s anniversary party a month ago, the woman was draped across a grand piano with a glass of wine in one hand and a microphone in the other, singing “If Ever I Would Leave You” fromCamelot.
“The door was slightly open,” Paris says. “I don’t think I turned the knob. I just pushed.”
“Continue.”
“I saw the bathroom light was on—”
“Wait, back up. Had the bed been slept in?”
“I—” Paris stops. “I didn’t look at the bed. I saw the bathroom light and headed straight there.”
“Was the bathroom door open or closed?”
“Open, about halfway. When I got closer, I saw him in the tub.”
“And what, exactly, did you see?”
Paris takes a breath and closes her eyes. She can see Jimmy lying in thebathtub. He’s wearing shorts and a T-shirt, his head leaning to one side at an awkward angle. His eyes are open. One arm dangles over the rim of the tub, which is half full of red water. Except it’s not just water. It’s blood. So much blood.
“He was in the tub.” To her own ears, Paris’s voice sounds distant. “It looked like he was dead, but I couldn’t be sure. I rushed over and pressed on his wrist, and then his neck. There was no pulse. His skin felt cool to the touch.”
And there was screaming. So much screaming. Coming from her.
Elsie closes her eyes briefly. “Could you tell how he died?”
“No. There was too much blood in the tub to see.”
“And then what did you do?”
