Chapter 45
APRIL
It was the fourth or fifth time Eddie had me repeat the route my husband took to get home.
I’d already given him the license plate number and the make of the car. I’d told him that on Thursdays, he usually arrives home between eight and eight-fifteen at night.
But who knew? We’d just ostensibly agreed to a divorce. Would it shock me if he arrived home a little later? No. The less time with me, the better he was likely feeling.
And if anything went awry, it’s not like I could call Eddie. He’d been adamant about no phones from the very beginning.
“Okay,” he said as he paced behind the dugout that adjoined the Little League field. “And from Berkeley?”
“He takes a right on Berkeley and follows that to Lipton Ave.”
“And Lipton is how far from Wilshire and Berkeley?”
“I’d say two hundred yards. It’s the first exit off of Berkeley.”
“And your house is on Lipton?”
“Yes. But you’ll want to take him out at the corner of Lipton and Berkeley. Fifty yards down Lipton and you’ll see the first house. You need to do it before then.”
“Brentwood is a busy area?”
“You’ve lived in LA. You know it is.”
“And there will be cars out at eight p.m. on a Thursday?”
“Yes, there will be fucking cars out.”
Eddie stared me down as if to say, “Don’t get mad at me. We’re in this together.” He was right.
“Sorry,” I said. “It’ll be eight o’clock and won’t be nearly as packed as if it were five or six p.m. And the sun will have set. These are all factors in our favor.”
“Thank God David works late.”
Thanking God for this seemed odd, but I didn’t say anything.
“You’re right. What about cameras and your license plate and things like that?”
“Don’t worry, I’ve got that covered.”
I believed Eddie. If anyone could pull this off, it was him.
“I trust you.”
“And once I’ve shot him, I can take a left from Lipton onto Berkeley?”
“Yes. And then you’ll take Berkeley down to Wilshire and take a left on Wilshire, and the 405 will be a mile up on your right.”
“This sounds like a bad rendition of that SNL skit. What’s it called?”
“The Californians.”
We both laughed too hard. Here we were, planning a murder, and we found something this trivial to be funny. Probably said something about us—about our lack of remorsefulness. Lack of virtue. Shit, the lack of many things.
“Is there anything else you can tell me?” Eddie asked.
“I can’t think of anything.”
“How far down did you say your house is?”
“About a hundred and fifty yards from the corner of Lipton and Berkeley.”
I saw Eddie in deep thought. He was trying to think of something.
“Do you have a mailbox?”
“Yes.”
“Does your house have a camera or a Ring video thing?”
“No.”
“How about any neighbors?”
“None that are directly across the street from us. There’s a neighbor a ways down, but their camera wouldn’t pick up the front of our house.”
“Okay, good. What’s your address?”
I gave it to him. I had no idea where this was going.
“Okay, listen, April. This is very important. I’m going to arrive about 7:45. You said he’s rarely home before eight, right?”
“Except on Friday, when they get out early.”
“Okay. And tomorrow is Thursday, so we don’t have to worry about that.”
“Right.”
“So, once again, I’ll arrive a little before 7:45.
When I arrive at Lipton and Berkeley, I will drive down past your house.
If anything is amiss, if there is something I need to know, I want you to flash your houselights on and off a few times at exactly 7:45.
Just do it two or three times. I’ll be watching.
And if I see you flashing your lights, I’ll go to your mailbox.
If something is up, I want you to write whatever it is down on a piece of paper and put it in the mailbox. Do you understand?”
I understood what he was saying, but wanted to repeat it just to be sure.
“So, if anything comes up, write a note and put it in the mailbox, and then flash my lights off and on a few times at exactly 7:45. That will alert you, and you’ll check the mailbox?”
“You got it.”
“What type of things are you expecting?”
“I’m expecting nothing, but you never know. Maybe he decides he’s flying to Vegas for the night. Maybe he calls and tells you he’s driving three young kids home. I don’t know. Just anything that might change my plans.”
“Okay, I got it.”
“I’m going to ask you one last time. Is there anything else you can think of?”
“There’s really not.”
“Okay. Now, you know you’re going to get questioned by the police after this.”
“Obviously.”
“Don’t be testy with me. The cops are going to be a lot worse.”
“I’m not being testy. And I won’t be with the cops either.”
“I trust you.”
“I’ll just be a devastated wife. That’s why we’re doing this before he tells anyone.”
“And you’re sure he hasn’t told a soul?”
“I’m positive. I reiterated to him that if he tells anyone, then our deal is off, and I’m taking him to court.”
“Okay. Good thinking, April.”
“When will I see you next?”
“We shouldn’t see each other for a long time.
That being said, I will still be at the little league field every Monday at eight a.m., just in case.
Only see me if it’s an absolute emergency.
There’s always a chance the police might follow you for the first week or two, so really don’t show up there unless there’s no other option. ”
“What about once I start getting David’s money?”
“Oh, don’t worry, I’ll be in touch by then.”
Eddie laughed and then leaned in and kissed me—two soon-to-be murderers embracing their immorality.
“We’re both going to be rich soon,” Eddie said. “And don’t forget your end of the bargain.”
“I haven’t. I’ll be ready.”
“Hopefully that won’t be anytime soon.”
“Agreed.”
“Take care, April. You’re going to do great with the police.”
“Goodbye, Eddie. And good luck.”