Chapter 11

Kitty and Antoinette’s Airbnb, West Hollywood, Los Angeles

‘Before you even start,’ I say to Antoinette as we walk up the drive of the three-bedroom, four-bathroom villa I’ve rented us for the next month. ‘The selection was extremely limited at such short notice.’

‘I haven’t said a word,’ she says, eyeing the white exterior and the palm trees bending over the pathway, like they’re bowing to greet us.

‘You don’t need to,’ I say, ‘your face does a lot of your talking for you. Besides, it was the one place that has a temperature-controlled cellar.’

Antoinette looks at me, her brow furrowed. ‘Why’s that important?’

‘We need a place to keep your friend Ron Wilde while I figure out what we’re going to do with him.’

‘Right, yes, of course,’ she says as we reach the door and I pull my phone out, searching for the email with the door code.

I tap the numbers in and the door swings open, revealing a spacious living area.

I step inside and feel the air conditioning hit my skin as I look around.

It’s pretty much what I was expecting, basic in the way that Airbnbs are.

There’s a terracotta-coloured sofa, which is not living its best life, and a couple of yellow wingback armchairs around a glass coffee table.

The room stretches all the way to the back of the house and I can see glass doors leading out to the garden – the yard, as it was called in the listing – where I know there’s a pool and outdoor eating area.

I glance at my sister’s face.

I can tell she’s trying to stop it talking for her.

‘It’s okay,’ she says. ‘It’s fine.’

‘We’ll have a proper look around in a bit,’ I say. ‘The first thing we need to do is get those suitcases into the cellar before your friend starts stinking.’ I look behind her. ‘Where are they?’

She looks puzzled. ‘Where are what?’

‘The LV cases,’ I say. ‘The ones with the human remains in them.’

‘Oh! I don’t know. I thought you had them?’

OhJesusfuckfuckfuckno.

I race out of the house, Antoinette on my heels, just in time to see our Uber, and what’s left of Ron Wilde, disappear down the street and out of view.

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