As the cab left Beverly Hills I felt terrible. Maybe I had been a bad influence on Hank. Maybe he’d been happier before I came along, pushing him to go out into a world he was scared of, for what reason I still had no idea. Jake was his neighbour, had obviously known him for much longer than I had. Did I really know what was good for Hank, better than anyone else?
Benji was back from his vacation with his parents and ready to continue our expeditions, and to my surprise I was relieved. At least with Benji I knew who I was, where I stood in the pecking order of our relationship. There would be no surprises with Benji, at least, that’s what I thought.
Our next excursion was to the ritzy suburb of Brentwood, and the condo on Bundy Drive where Nicole Simpson Brown and Ron Goldman were stabbed to death. Benji picked me up from outside my house and I could immediately tell he was agitated. His eyes were red, his movements jumpy. As we pulled out he hit the curb, sending one of his hub-caps flying onto my lawn.
‘You think you might wanna get that?’ I asked as we sped off.
‘Later. We gotta get moving.’
‘Are you okay?’
‘I don’t know, it’s just being around my parents for so long, puts me on a fucking knife’s edge.’
Benji was as riled as a cat that’s been caught in the rain. His hands ran along the steering wheel like he was playing a musical instrument.
‘All that time in the woods with them, and no escape,’ he said through a strained smile. ‘I felt so trapped I could’ve killed someone. But I’m back now, and we’re back together, doing what we do best.’
‘Sure.’
‘That’s right. Me and Hilda against the world. So what did you do while I was away? You must have been pretty bored without me, huh?’
‘Totally. I just hung out at home, you know, surfed the net.’
‘Did you go see that old guy again? Hank?’
‘Maybe once,’ I lied. ‘Can’t remember.’
‘Don’t worry Hilda. You can have other friends. I’m okay with it.’
Benji started talking about the good parts of his vacation: jet-skiing on the lake, the day he took his new dirt bike out and went riding through the woods. I was only half-listening. I watched as the beautiful Brentwood houses went by, with their lush green lawns and high gates. I wondered if one day Jake might write a screenplay that would sell for millions of dollars, and would someday live in a house like that. Benji swerved onto Bundy Drive and the tyres screeched.
‘Chill out cowboy,’ I said, holding onto the door handle. ‘You’re gonna kill somebody.’
‘Oh, I forgot to tell you. On the trip, Dad took me hunting for the first time. It was awesome. He gave me my own gun as an early birthday present.’
‘But you’re not legal yet.’
‘Yeah, well he trusts me.’
‘You don’t need a gun. That’s crazy.’
‘Is it? There are so many fucking psychos out there Hilda. You can’t trust anyone anymore. Especially in Los Angeles. This town breeds killers.’
‘I can’t believe you went hunting. Hunting is so fucking barbaric, Benji.’
‘I sure did! Got some birds, a rabbit. One night, I snuck into the woods while Mom and Dad were asleep and bagged an owl. Do you know how hard that is to do?’
‘What the hell are you thinking? What right do you have to kill another creature?’
‘As much right as anyone else. It’s Darwinism Hilda, survival of the fittest. Here—’
He reached across me to open the glove compartment and to my absolute horror a handgun tumbled into my lap. He scooped it up, cocked it like he was in an action movie.
‘Christ, Benji! Put that back!’
‘Don’t worry. It’s not loaded.’
‘If the cops see you they’ll shoot you on sight! It’s broad daylight!’
‘I don’t care,’ he said, and waved it out the window like Dirty Harry. ‘Look out motherfuckers!’
I grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him back in.
‘You’re nuts Benji, you know that? That’s not a toy. That’s a gun. What are you trying to do? Suicide by cop?’
Benji just laughed. He put the revolver back in the glove compartment and closed it. ‘Relax Hilda. We can go shoot some shit later, so you can see how well it handles. And we won’t shoot any animals seeing as how it makes you so sad.’
Before I could answer we had passed the house on Bundy Drive. The condo where Nicole Simpson died was an unassuming beige colour and was obscured by the garden. The new owner had renovated the front to make it less recognisable.
‘We’ve passed it,’ I said as we screeched around the corner.
‘Gotta go round the back. That’s where the killer entered,’ Benji grunted.
We took the back alleyway and when we pulled up there was a car already there. A tourist wearing a Disneyland T-shirt was standing in front of the back gate, her husband taking her photograph. As we pulled up they looked at us uneasily, the same guilty look I used to get when I first started death-touring, that look of shame from being caught out. Before I knew what was happening Benji had leapt out of the car and was charging towards them.
‘What the hell are you doing?’ he shouted, his voice filled with menace. ‘Huh? I said, what the hell do you think you’re doing?’
‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ the woman stammered, walking briskly towards her husband.
‘You’re sorry? What the hell do you think you’re doing?’
‘We were just taking a picture. We didn’t mean to offend.’
‘Offend?’
The couple ran to their car, Benji following fast. He thumped on the bonnet, slammed down two closed fists while the man struggled to put the keys in the ignition.
I jumped out of the car. ‘Benji, stop it!’
‘You should be ashamed of yourselves!’ he yelled, kicking their tyres. ‘Have some respect for the dead!’
Just as the woman began to scream, the car roared to life and her husband slammed his foot down onto the accelerator.
Benji laughed as they sped away from us, nearly crashing into another car when they pulled out into the busy intersection. Benji stood with his back to me, panting hard, watching them go.
‘That wasn’t funny,’ I said, afraid to go any closer.
He turned around. ‘Come on Hilda, it was just a joke. Did you see the looks on their faces?’
I did. They were terrified. But it could have been worse. Benji could have taken his gun with him. ‘Benji, are you okay?’ I asked softly. ‘You cool?’
‘Fuck yeah, I’m cool!’ he yelled again, wiping his hand across his nose. ‘Stop asking me that. I’m fucking great. Being alive is great, isn’t it Hilda? This is what it’s about!’
I hovered near the car, hands in my pockets, not knowing what to say. I kept thinking about that revolver burning a hole in the glove compartment. Benji turned towards the back gate of the condo.
‘Well, come on,’ he barked. ‘Get my camera.’
I took his camera from the front seat and slowly walked over. He snatched it, jumped up, hoisting the camera high in the air, and took photos over the fence.
‘Let’s go round the front too,’ he said. ‘Leave the car here. You can give me a boost.’
We walked around the corner to the front of the condo, trying to look casual. When we thought no one was looking, I helped Benji up onto the gate and held him in position while he took more photos.
‘Your turn,’ he said, after snapping off a few shots. He jumped back down and helped me onto the top of the gate, his hands tight around my waist.
‘You see the walkway? That’s where the bodies were found. The blood ran all the way under the gate and out onto the road.’
He didn’t have to tell me. I’d seen the pictures. Nicole Simpson had nearly been decapitated. She had stab wounds all over her body, her chest, her neck. So did Ron Goldman, some poor guy from the local restaurant who was returning the pair of glasses Nicole’s mother had left there. Benji was right. The blood had run like a river through the tiles, pooling in the edges. So much blood.
‘I want to get down now,’ I said.
Benji dropped me, then started to take photos of the mailbox.
For a moment I forgot about him and once again found myself in the grip of that old death drug. The air was still and in the silence I tried to imagine what it was like for them that evening. Did they see it coming? How long did they fight, and when they gave up, did they know the consequence would be death? I tried to focus on the facts but all I could think of was the terror, the fear and the despair. It felt like it was coming off the gate and the surrounding walls. I thought of Nicole’s dog howling beside her body, a cry that woke the neighbours. The courtyard was narrow and the pathway short. Such a small space to hold so much pain. I wanted to open the gate and let it breathe. I wanted to let all the fear out.
‘Poor Ron,’ Benji said as he snapped off another shot. ‘Wrong place at the wrong time buddy.’
‘Yeah,’ I managed to say.
‘Poor bastard dies because OJ couldn’t stand his coke-head ex-wife anymore. Tell you what, if my wife ever acted like a hooker in front of my kids, I’d probably cut her up too.’
Benji stood with his camera slung over his shoulder like a rifle. He picked a leaf off a nearby tree and tore it into tiny pieces that floated to the ground.
‘Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. You know what’s sad Hilda?’
I swallowed. ‘What, Benji?’
I thought I almost saw a tear in his eye. ‘No one in this town cares about anyone else. Nobody notices anything unless it has something to do with them. Like, I could take my gun, and kill you right now, and I bet no one would notice your body for days. No one.’ He looked down at his feet. ‘It just makes me so sad, you know?’