Raoul could feel the car floor thrumming beneath his feet and hands, where he crouched under the backseat. The air smelled like stale cigarettes and dust, and he would be embarrassed at the indignity of the situation if he wasn't so distracted by the thought of was to come next.
As if to remind him of that, Mrs. Dietrichson's voice floated back from the front seat. "Stop it, Erik."
"I'm not doing anything, my dear Antoinette."
"You're twenty miles above the speed limit, and you know it. Listen, no one takes their spouse along to a class reunion, and you wouldn't want to go anyway. Don't act like I've slighted you."
"Mrs. Tucker went along with her husband last year, didn't she?"
"And she sat in the lobby and sulked the whole time, because she didn't know anyone. Anyway, with how you react to crowds, we both know you'd refuse to go even if I asked you to."
"That's very convenient for you, isn't it?"
Mrs. Dietrichson let out a sharp sigh. "Maybe it is, actually. Maybe it'll be a relief to get away from your ridiculousness for a few days- you try so hard to make me lose patience with you, and then act like it's a betrayal on my part if you succeed! Now, that's enough. Slow the car down, follow the speed limit, and give me some goddamn peace."
Her voice rang through the smallness of the car. The silence stretched, broken only by the thrum of the sedan's engine.
Then, Erik spoke, his own voice icy calm. "Well, honey, as long as you have a good time."
"I won't be doing much dancing, anyway." She said dryly.
"Just remember what the doctor said: if you're not careful, you could end up with a shorter leg. Then you could break the other one to match!" His tone was just a bit too jeering to be kind.
Antoinette sighed again. "Alright, Erik."
"I guess it must make you pretty happy to get away from me."
"Erik, that's-"
He cut her off, with three short blasts on the horn.
It was the signal. Raoul scrambled to get up from under the backseat, hands clumsy from being so long motionless.
"What was that for? What're you-"
She never got any farther than that. Raoul finally brought his arms up, one over her mouth and the other around her neck. She shouted into his hand, and he felt her breath strike hot against his skin, and he knew he couldn't go through with it.
One panicked glance into Erik's eyes, and the other man realized it too. "Raoul, hold her." He ordered, and swung the car around in a wide turn, leaving it rattling, but parked, at the side of the highway. Roughly, he shoved Raoul off his wife and into the backseat. "Close your eyes if you need to."
Raoul did, and so he heard rather than saw the struggle. It was oddly short, just a brief scuffle of motion cut off with a short groan from Antoinette. Then, he heard the dull sound of something snapping.
It took him a second to realize that the sound was her neck being broken. The whole event hadn't taken more than two minutes, in the end.
They sat there at the edge of the highway for a solid minute of silence and short, harsh breaths, before Erik turned to him. "Raoul. Raoul, are you with me?"
He opened his eyes. "Yes, I am, I'm sorry, I just panicked, and-"
"No, it's alright, I don't blame you." Erik said gently, laying one hand on Raoul's face and turning him gently away from the passenger's seat. "No, don't look at that. Are you alright to drive?"
Raoul nodded. "Sure." He almost whispered. "Sure, I am."
"Good, darling. All you have to do is get us there now— slowly, giving me time to change."
"I remember the plan, Erik." Raoul said, sharper than he had intended even as he scrambled into the front seat.
Erik, understandably, didn't seem in the mood for fighting. "I'm glad. Now drive, please."
And so Raoul drove on, down the last deserted stretch of road, ignoring the corpse that had been quickly bundled under the backseat. The dead Mrs. Dietrichson lay just where he himself had been ten minutes before.
Earlier that afternoon, everything had seemed simpler. Or, calmer anyway. All Raoul had to do was follow the plan.
Step one: leave his rate book on his desk when he left the office, as though he had forgotten it. Simple enough, even if it felt oddly symbolic. The 'forgotten' rate book lay on his desk like a love note; the first gesture of the night towards commitment. Raoul drove home, thinking of Erik.
When he reached the apartment complex, he tturned the car smoothly into the garage. This was part of the alibi too.
"Hey, Mr. Chagny." The attendant waved an oil-stained rag at him in greeting.
"Hi, Charlie. Could I get a wash job on this?" Raoul gestured at his car as he slid out of it.
"Sure, but how soon do you need it? I've got two cars ahead of you."
Even better. "Whenever you get to it, Charlie. I'm staying in tonight."
"Okay, Mr. Chagny. I'll have it all ready for you by tomorrow morning." He held up his hand, smiling. Nice guy, Charlie.
Raoul tossed him the keys, and headed for the elevator. Up in his apartment, he went straight for the phone. "Hey, Lou. I left my rate book on my desk earlier, and since we share an office, I was wondering if you could get me some numbers on the public liability bond I've been figuring? Yeah, thanks, Lou. I've got a pencil and paper here, just let me take this down…."
Lou Schwartz lived up in Westwood, which would make this a toll call. There'd be a record of it, which meant a record that Raoul had been home tonight.
Lastly, he gathered his supplies: adhesive tape, ankle wrap, hat worn low over his brow just in case he passed someone who could recognize him later. He left the building by the fire escape, and was seen by no one. The walk up to Loz Feliz wasn't that long; within twenty minutes the could smell honeysuckle wafting out on the breeze. It smelled just as it had the last time he was here, only stronger, now that it was evening.
Mrs. Dietrichson's sedan was parked in the driveway, the way Erik had promised it would be. Raoul slipped into the backseat, and rolled under it. The dark interior of the car swallowed him up, and he waited to hear the couple's footsteps.
Soon the station was visible in the distance. The building hunched down in the dark, with clusters of people scurrying around it as they waited for their train to pull in. "Erik, we're here."
"Oh, please," Came a voice from the backseat, high and lilting and barely recognizable. "call me Antoinette."
Raoul whipped his head around, and there 'she' was— a slightly taller Antoinette Dietrichson in the backseat, hands folded neatly in 'her' lap, and hat tilted low to hide Erik's mask. "Wow." Raoul whispered.
"Am I believable?" Erik leaned forward anxiously.
"Yeah. Yeah, you really are. I'd think you were a woman myself if I didn't know better."
"Excellent. Oh, we're here!"
"Erik?"
"Yes?" He turned back to Raoul, but kept one eye on the station up ahead.
"Before we get there….I love you."
"Well, you could have said that at the station, since you're the supposed Mr. Dietrichson." Erik said practically. "But obviously I love you too."
"Straight down the line?"
"Straight down the line, baby. Now, pull up here, and do not forget to open my door for me."
"Yes, ma'am." They laughed nervously, then Raoul did as he had said. Erik swung the crutches awkwardly out of the car, then pushed himself up on them. On cue, Raoul laid a hand on Erik's back as though supporting his 'wife.' They headed up to the station entrance, and he could feel the bones of Erik's spine shift through his jacket. Erik spoke in a low voice, barely seeming to move his lips. "Now, you start the car just as soon as the train leaves. At the sign for that dairy you turn off the highway onto the dirt road. From there it's exactly eight tenths of a mile to the dump beside the tracks. Remember?"
"I remember everything."
"You'll be there just before the train. No speeding. You don't want the cops stopping you— not with that in the back."
"Erik, we've been through this a hundred times."
He continued relentlessly. "When you turn off the highway, cut all your lights. I'm going to be back on the observation platform. I'll drop off as close to the spot as I can. Wait for the train to pass, then blink your lights twice."
Raoul nodded, and they fell quiet as they stepped up to the station platform.
"San Francisco train, sir?" The redcap asked him.
"Car nine, section eleven. Just my wife going."
"Car nine, section eleven. Yes, sir."
Erik handed his coat to the redcap, who led the couple to car nine. There was one brief, bad moment, where the conductor saw the lady on crutches and moved to help, but Raoul stepped in front to block him. "It's alright, thanks. My wife doesn't like being helped." He arched an eyebrow at the conductor— women, you know?— and the man nodded. Raoul could feel Erik's back shaking slightly under his hand, and knew he was trying to stifle another nervous laugh.
And then it was done, with Erik leaning down from the train steps to kiss his 'husband' goodbye, just as they heard the shouts of "All aboard!"
"I'll miss you, honey."
"I'll miss you too. Take awfully good care of yourself with that leg, alright?"
"Of course. I love you."
"I love you too." Raoul said softly, then stepped away from the train.
Like any loving husband would, he stood on the platform waiting until it had pulled away, watching it head off into the night.
