Chapter 58
APRIL
I’d watched enough true crime documentaries over the years to know a few things not to do.
First and foremost, I shouldn’t start the process of collecting the money from David’s life insurance policy.
That’s the single worst look a widow can give.
That would make the LAPD suspicious almost immediately, and for the most part, they’d been on my side.
Sure, they’d asked me some tough questions, but that was inevitable.
I was the spouse of a murdered man. What did I expect?
Plus, David and I had plenty of money in our checking account.
It’s not like I couldn’t pay our mortgage or bills if the investigation dragged on for several weeks.
Or even several months. But at some point, when they realized they had zero evidence against me, they’d at least have to drop that part of the investigation.
Or, if not drop it, at least give me my space and stop interviewing me every other day.
I didn’t feel I had anything to fear from Eddie. At least, not yet. He wasn’t a dumbass, and he’d know to steer clear from me while this investigation was ongoing. He’d killed David and was in just as much danger of spending the rest of his life in jail as I was—maybe more.
Which got me thinking. If their investigation somehow led them to suspect Eddie, couldn’t I just pretend that he’d killed David on his own?
I’d admit to having an affair and then say when I decided to cut it off, Eddie got possessive, and didn’t want it to end, so he probably killed David to get him out of the picture, in hopes that I’d return to him.
The detectives would surely ask me why I hadn’t mentioned that earlier, and through tears, I’d say something like, “I didn’t even want to consider that possibility, because then it would mean my affair had led to my beloved David’s death.”
It wasn’t foolproof, but it was pretty damn good—if I don’t say so myself. Hopefully, the LAPD would never find Eddie, and I wouldn’t have to use it.
At some point, Eddie would come calling, but hopefully that would be when the investigation no longer involved me. Eddie was smart. He’d know to keep his distance.
I had been busy organizing David’s funeral, which was now scheduled for Saturday, February 21st, which was only three days away. It would take place nine days after his death.
It would give me one last chance to get people on my side: law enforcement, David’s friends and family, even the general public.
David’s murder was getting a lot of play in the local news, and I had no doubt the media would be covering his funeral.
I’d intentionally turned down any interviews, knowing no good would come of it.
But just in case the TV cameras were able to record some things on Saturday, the fake tears would definitely be flowing.