Chapter 9
The main bathroom, bungalow three, Chateau Marmont, Los Angeles
Sure enough, here lie the other pieces of Academy Award-winning actor Ron Wilde. His legs are hanging from the tap, draining out into the bath, and his arms have been attached to the overhead shower to do the same. His head has been plonked in the sink.
I tilt my head and take a good look at him.
‘Bad luck,’ I say to the head. ‘I guess karma caught up with you.’ There’s something weird about the face though. I lean in a bit closer and then I realise that his lips are missing. Like totally gone.
Oh my God.
She’s cut his lips off his face.
This is even more very, very Not Good.
Like a storm, I whirl back through to the living area.
‘Where are his lips?’ I say to Antoinette, who’s now scrolling through her phone like she hasn’t just risked our fucking freedom.
She barely looks up at me when she says, ‘In the Smeg.’
‘You’ve killed one of the most famous men in the world and put his lips in the fridge,’ I say, bewildered. ‘Why?’
‘So he can’t shit talk in the next life, of course.’ She laughs. ‘It’s my signature. All serial killers need a signature. Like how the WeHo Ripper dumps the bodies in famous places. I’m going to cut off the part that pissed me off.’
‘This isn’t funny, Antoinette.’ I’m beyond furious. ‘And there will be no signatures.’
‘But—’
‘No!’ I’m pacing the room now. ‘Signatures, souvenirs, that’s what gets killers caught!’
What am I going to do?
What am I going to do?
The panic that has been pooling in my stomach feels like it’s travelling up my throat.
I slam my hands over my mouth and just about make it to the bathroom before I throw up violently into the toilet.
Retching and spitting until my mouth is completely dry.
‘What are you looking at?’ I ask Ron Wilde’s lipless face, which I swear is staring at me. ‘This is your fault.’
Fuck.
We need to leave.
We have to get out of LA, out of America as fast as we can.
It’s not like Antoinette has killed and carved up some random guy.
It’s Ron Wilde.
One of the most photographed men in the world. People are going to notice he’s missing.
Immediately.
If not sooner.
And I haven’t even found Aidan Ward yet, let alone killed him.
I’m going to have to break my promise to Tor.
Nausea bubbles in my stomach again at the thought of letting her down.
She’s going to be devastated. But what else can I do? There’s a dead movie star in my bathroom and I have no idea what I’m going to do with him.
God, if he’s staying here then the paparazzi will come at some point too.
It’s not like I can slip his dismembered corpse out unnoticed.
My brain is already imagining the TMZ report.
Chaos erupted at the Chateau Marmont when two British women were caught trying to sneak the lipless remains of Oscar-winning actor Ron Wilde out of the service entrance last night. Onlookers described the scene as The Crown meets Dexter. But with better outfits.
Fuck.
This cannot be how I’m caught.
There’s a gentle knock on the bathroom door. I look up as Antoinette pokes her head in, her eyes wide with concern.
‘Are you okay?’ she says. ‘I heard retching.’ She holds out a glass of water.
I should be furious with her.
I want to be furious with her. She completely ignored what I told her about killing this man. And because of her surprise murder I’m going to have to break my best friend’s heart.
I reach out and take the glass. ‘Thanks,’ I say.
She tentatively strokes my hair.
I can’t be angry with her. She’s my sister and, however reckless she’s been, her heart was in the right place.
‘Are you angry?’ Her voice is small.
I shake my head. ‘No,’ I say, ‘but we’re going to have to go home. Like, before people start asking questions about him.’ I nod in the direction of Ron Wilde’s head.
‘What about Aidan Ward?’ Antoinette asks. ‘What about Tor? What about the Ripper?’
‘It’s too dangerous to stay here now,’ I say. ‘People are going to come looking for him. They probably are already.’
‘I’m sorry,’ she says and she actually does look it.
‘It’s okay,’ I say even though it’s not. I look at the lipless head again. ‘What the hell happened? I’ve only been gone two hours.’
‘He was at the pool earlier,’ she says as she perches on the edge of the bathtub. ‘Already drunk. Or still. He followed me back to the room.’
‘He followed you?’
She nods. ‘Yeah. So gross. He recognised me from the restaurant last night, which is amazing considering how messy he was then too. He sort of pushed his way in, going on about how I should come to the penthouse for a private party.’ She makes a gagging noise.
‘He’s old enough to be my dad. My grandad.
Anyway. I smacked him over the head with one of the bedroom lamps. ’
It wasn’t recklessness.
It was self-defence.
That changes everything.
I pull myself up from the floor and sit down next to her on the lip of the tub.
‘Do you think he would’ve hurt you?’
She shrugs. ‘Who knows. He was really wasted. I doubt he could’ve really done much. But, you know, he came into the room without consent, so—’
‘You did the right thing,’ I say.
Antoinette looks at me. ‘But I’ve messed things up for you.’
I slip my arm around her shoulders. ‘You’re safe. That’s more important than anything else.’
She leans into me and we sit like that for a moment before she pulls away.
‘I suppose I should start packing then,’ she says.
‘Yeah, I’ll look for flights,’ I say, reaching for my phone, which I abandoned on the floor before I threw up.
Just at that moment it starts ringing.
‘Kits, your phone,’ Antoinette helpfully tells me.
‘Yeah, thanks,’ I say as I grab it.
It’s Tor on FaceTime.
That’s weird. It’s still early in London.
‘Hey,’ she says as her face appears on my screen. It breaks my heart all over again when I see the bruising and swelling.
‘Hey you,’ I say, hoping she doesn’t hear the wobble in my voice. ‘How’s it going?’
‘I couldn’t sleep,’ she says. ‘I thought you might be around.’ She sounds so sad that my heart cracks even more.
‘I’m here,’ I say. ‘What’s going on? Is your mum there?’
Tor shakes her head, wincing again. ‘She had to go off for something to do with work. She said she’d be back later.’
‘You’re by yourself?’
‘Yes, Maisie’s been brilliant but she’s still struggling with really bad morning sickness.
’ Maisie’s pregnant with twins and hasn’t been having the easiest of times with it.
Almost every time I speak to her she has to end the call because she needs to throw up.
Either that or her face is all red and sweaty because she’s just been throwing up.
‘I can’t believe you’re by yourself,’ I say. ‘I wish I was there.’
‘It’s fine,’ Tor says. ‘I only really need to leave my room to use the loo. My ribs don’t hurt quite as much anymore so moving around is okay. Anyway, they’ve given me loads of really decent painkillers.’ She attempts a laugh but it comes out sounding strangled.
Something’s really wrong.
‘What’s happened, Tor?’ I say gently. ‘Why can’t you sleep?’
Even through the pixelated screen and the thousands of miles between us I can see her eyes fill up with tears.
‘I’m scared to,’ she says in a voice so quiet I can barely hear.
‘Scared?’ I say. ‘Tor, you don’t need to be scared. Aidan can’t hurt you. He’s over here.’
The tears fall from her eyes and she quickly raises a hand to wipe them away.
‘Is he though?’ she says. ‘And even if he is, try telling that to my subconscious. It won’t stop dreaming about him.
’ She gives a hollow little laugh. ‘Well, they’re nightmares really.
Or flashbacks? I don’t know the difference.
But every night, I go through the attack again and again. So now I’m too scared to sleep.’
‘Oh Tor,’ I say, wishing I could reach through the screen and wrap my arms around her. She shouldn’t be on her own.
‘Promise me you’ll find him, Kits,’ she says, her eyes full of plea.
‘I don’t know how I’ll have a normal life otherwise.
How can I when he’s out there somewhere and he could be getting ready to finish me off?
’ She covers her face with her hands. I can tell by the way her shoulders are shaking that she’s quietly crying behind them.
‘I’ll find him,’ I say. ‘I promise you, I’ll find him.’
Tor mumbles something before ending the call. She’s always hated for anyone to see her cry. She always says that crying is like going to the loo, we all do it but no one should see you.
‘I just can’t respect someone after I’ve seen them ugly cry or pee,’ she told me once.
She’s been through so much in the last couple of years but Aidan’s attack has fully broken her.
I can’t bear it.
I can’t break my promise to her.
I just can’t.
I don’t know how but we have to stay in LA.
We have to find Aidan Ward. If I have to knock on every single door in this entire city.
I can’t break that woman any more.
I look up from my phone and see Antoinette staring at me. She heard the whole thing.
‘I guess we’re staying then,’ she says.
I look again at the severed head in the sink. ‘I guess we are,’ I say.
I just need to figure out what I’m going to do with him.