Chapter 46
EDDIE
I hadn’t met Lucy yet. I hadn’t met April yet. And the idea of killing someone like David Devers would have been unbelievable.
However, I did know I wasn’t the most upstanding citizen in the world, and that some shady enterprises might be in my future. So I decided that having a gun—just in case—was probably a smart idea.
I didn’t want a gun that the police could track. If it were used for nefarious reasons, I’d prefer that my name not be traced back to the weapon.
So on a random Monday night during Covid, I went down to Skid Row in downtown Los Angeles with the intention of buying a “hot” handgun.
“You looking for some drugs?” the man asked me.
He was probably in his forties, but looked much older. He was skinny, looked like a junkie, and was way too tan. He appeared to have spent his whole life in the sun. Skin cancer was in his future if he happened to live much longer.
I had rolled down the window of my car. I was trying to avoid having to get out.
“Actually, I was wondering if you had access to a firearm. The kind that can’t be traced.”
“I think we could work something out for you. How many do you want?”
I was about to say one when I caught myself.
“Two.” I might as well get two at once as opposed to having to come back to this shark-infested part of Los Angeles.
“That will take me twenty-four hours,” the junkie said. “Could you meet me back here tomorrow? Same bat time. Same bat channel.” He laughed at his own joke.
“Sure.”
“What type of guns do you want?”
“I want two Glocks, and most importantly, they can’t be traced.”
“You wouldn’t be able to trace these guns if I gave you an Etch a Sketch.”
He laughed again.
“You’re quite the comedian.”
“People around here seem to think so.”
I was about to give a smart-ass response, but figured it was better to stay on good terms with this guy.
“I can see why. I will be back here tomorrow at eight. You’ll have what I want?”
“I will.”
“How much will they cost?”
“It will be around eight hundred for both. I’ll know the exact price tomorrow.”
“I’m going to assume cash is fine.”
“I don’t take the Diner’s Club card if that’s what you’re asking.”
Another laugh from him. I responded in kind.
“I’ll see you tomorrow night. And no funny business or I’ll quickly drive away, and you’ll never get your money.”
“No funny business will be necessary. Just two businessmen taking care of business.”
“See you tomorrow.”
“Hasta la vista, baby,” he said, and I sped off before he could laugh again.
I returned the next day, and sure enough, the rail-thin junkie had come through.
He had a Glock 19 and a Glock 17 for me. The total price was a thousand. I wasn’t going to squabble over two hundred dollars, so I just gave it to him and got the hell out of there. He’d even thrown in two boxes of bullets.
That was almost six years ago, and I’d only fired the guns twice since. Once, a few months after buying them. And once again, a mere month ago.
They had worked fine, and I had no reason to think they wouldn’t work now, when it mattered most.
After meeting with April, I spent the next half hour online, mapping out my escape route. I’d really only needed about five minutes, but I went over it time and time again.
She’d given me the license plate number and the make and model of the car, so I was prepared on that end.
They lived in Santa Monica, a little over a mile from the 405 freeway.
After I finished my business, I would drive quickly down Berkeley Street, take a left on Wilshire, and hit the 405 freeway a mile later. There really couldn’t be an easier escape route.
It wasn’t the escape that worried me. It was what every criminal these days fears: the amount of cameras everywhere.
I had a plan for this as well. I bought a black wig at a local store. It wasn’t one of these Captain Obvious, huge black afros that you’d wear for Halloween. This was more subtle with a few curly strands on the side. I’d also wear a hat tight to my head.
At the very least, it would help disguise my actual features.
My other worry was my license plate. April had assured me that there weren’t cameras at the intersection of Berkeley and Lipton, and the closest neighbor was fifty yards down the street.
Even if they had a Ring camera, it wouldn’t have made it to the end of the street where I planned to shoot David Devers. They don’t have that range of motion.
That being said, once the police were called in for the murder, they would do everything in their power to catch the killer, obviously.
That would include looking for any cameras in the area.
So while the end of that street may not have had any cameras, the police would undoubtedly find some cameras amongst all the businesses on Wilshire Boulevard.
That’s why I was going to duct tape my license plate.
Was it risky? Yes. If a police officer noticed the duct tape on my drive over, I’d most certainly be pulled over. And I’d better have a damn good excuse.
It was still a better option than driving away from a crime scene with your license plate sitting there uncovered for every camera to see. There was no doubt about that.
Ideally, the cameras would only capture the side of my car as I drove past them on Wilshire. If they did pick up the license plate, however, it would be blocked out. And the driver of the car would have curly black hair, two attributes my hair did not possess.
That was the best plan I could come up with, and I thought it was a pretty fucking good one.
Was this murder foolproof? No, none are.
But considering how quickly this had all come together, I think I’d mapped it out pretty well.
I was borderline confident I’d get away with it.
Thursday night came, and I told Lucy I was going to see an old friend and I’d be back in an hour.
She told me to have fun, and that was it. She didn’t even ask me who the friend was.
Our relationship had definitely gone downhill since her father’s birthday. She wasn’t mean to me. We weren’t rude. She was just disinterested. And anyone who’s been married knows that is far worse.
But I didn’t have time to think about Lucy right now.
All my thoughts were on David Devers and not fucking this thing up.
There was a hidden little inlet near our house, right before you get on the freeway. I knew no cameras were near it, so I parked and duct-taped the back of my license plate.
I used a combination of off-white and blue tape that matched the colors of the back of the California license plate. It was as subtle as duct-taping your license plate could be. You’d really have to be looking directly at the license plate to notice it.
I then set off for Santa Monica, which was only about five miles north of me. Not that you ever really knew how long that could take in LA traffic.
On this night, traffic was light, and I arrived at the cross streets of Berkeley and Lipton at 7:32.
The last thing I wanted to do was drive around the neighborhood and give cameras a chance to get a look at me.
So I remained at the corner until 7:44. I then drove down half a block in front of April and her soon-to-be-dead husband’s house.
When there was no flicker coming from their home at 7:45, I drove back to the corner of Berkeley and Lipton.
And waited.
David Devers would be taking a right onto Lipton.
I was parked on the right and would look to my left as he turned onto the street. He’d have to slow down to turn onto Lipton, and I’d have several seconds to look at his license plate. When I did, I’d raise the gun and fire it several times at him as he drove by.
This was no certainty, but I continued to think it would work.
My heart was beating out of my chest, but my fingers and hands remained calm. The last thing you wanted was to be an unsteady shooter, but I was going to be okay.
I had the gun in my lap. It would take a split second to raise the gun and shoot. Lipton Avenue was narrow, and David Devers would be less than ten feet from my car when he passed. I’d have to be a piss-poor shot to miss him from there. And it’s not like I was just going to be firing one shot.
7:50 became 7:55, which became 8:00.
It could be any moment.
At precisely 8:01, a car slowed down and was about to take a right on Lipton, but the license plate wasn’t right. The same thing happened at 8:02, 8:03, and at 8:05, two cars passed me.
Finally, at 8:07, a car approached, slowed, and was preparing to turn onto Lipton.
I recognized the license plate immediately and raised the gun, gripping the bottom with my left hand.
The car took the right turn onto Lipton, and when it came into my line of sight, I fired three shots in rapid succession.