Chapter 78
APRIL
Iprobably spent more time thinking about how to kill Harry Shoe than I did on my husband or my lover/co-conspirator.
Was Eddie really my lover?
I mean, we did have sex, and it was damn good, despite being in a two-star hotel.
But I can definitively say there was never any love.
Thinking back, I can’t decide if I started having sex with Eddie more because my marriage had become tedious, or whether it was his talk of getting rich. Probably the latter.
And if that’s the case—that I had sex for money—did that make me a prostitute? Not that I cared. I was now a double-murderer, trying to figure out a way to snuff out a third life. A prostitute has nothing on me. Hahaha.
I ran through some possibilities on how to kill Harry Shoe.
I knew his schedule, so theoretically I could follow him home from work. And then what? I no longer had a gun.
Could I run him over and then flee? An old-school camera or a Ring would surely pick my car up along the way. Fuck, it was hard being a criminal these days. Too many cameras. No wonder all the greatest serial killers were running rampant in the sixties and seventies.
I kept going back to the fact that I thought I could take Harry in a fight.
On Tuesday morning, I was working at the coffee shop when I finalized my plan.
It was risky, but shit, everything involved risk at this point.
There was even a risk in calling Hotel Pico, but my plan necessitated it. Plus, if I did this right, the police wouldn’t show up at the hotel to ask questions.
I dialed Hotel Pico from our business phone. It seemed smarter than calling from my cell. It was Tuesday morning, so I knew who would be answering.
“Thanks for calling Hotel Pico. How can I help you?”
“Harry, this is April.”
“Hello,” he said, and his voice quickly lowered. “Are we still on for tomorrow?”
“We are, but not at the coffee shop. Police are following me around all day long.”
“Okay, where?”
“We have to make it somewhere hidden, and somewhere late at night, so I know I’m not being followed. Oh, and by the way, I have the five thousand plus the twenty-five hundred I still owe you.”
I had to sweeten the pot for old Harry.
“Great. Just tell me when and where.”
“Let’s meet under the Santa Monica Pier at eleven p.m. Not on the pier itself, but underneath, down by the water’s edge. Then I can be sure that the police haven’t followed me. And trust me, you don’t want the police around either. You would be in trouble, too.”
“That’s smart thinking.”
“You’ll be getting a lot of money. You should have a few drinks before we meet to celebrate.”
“I think I just might.”
“See you tomorrow night, Harry.”