Chapter 15
Agnes and Lauren’s guesthouse, West Hollywood, Los Angeles
Antoinette picks up on my fears.
‘Just look at it this way, Kits,’ she says quietly as we walk, ‘isn’t it better to make friends with them? Like keep your friends close and potential witnesses to murder closer?’
I sigh. She’s got a point.
‘Yes,’ I say reluctantly, ‘but that doesn’t mean we can get too friendly with them. I don’t want them just dropping into the main house unannounced. We’ve still got our friend in the cellar.’
Antoinette bumps her hip into mine. ‘Okay, no house calls. But apart from that, you should loosen up a bit. You might even have a good time.’
I roll my eyes at her. ‘We’re not here for a good time,’ I say. ‘We’re here to kill Aidan Ward.’
‘And the WeHo Ripper. That’s exactly my idea of a good time,’ she says. ‘And anyway, we need to find them both first. And I don’t think having two locals as our new besties is the worst thing. It’s not like we’ve had much luck on our own.’
I sigh again. ‘Don’t remind me. I feel so useless.’
Antoinette squeezes my arm. ‘We’ll find him,’ she says. ‘We made a promise and we will find him.’
‘I just hope we do it quickly,’ I say. ‘I need to be back in London putting my life back together.’ Although, as I say it, I realise that it’s not quite as true as it was. I was desperate to get home so I could win Charlie back. There seems very little chance of that happening now.
‘We’ll find him,’ she says again. ‘And we’ll start first thing. But for now let’s go and have some nice food and see what these girls can tell us about LA.’ She gives me another squeeze and I feel a rush of affection for her.
We pick up our pace again and continue our walk to the guesthouse. Agnes opens the door for us and a waft of cooking meat makes my stomach churn.
‘Wow,’ Antoinette says. ‘It smells great.’
‘Lauren is a super whizz in the kitchen,’ Agnes says. ‘Which is just as well as I am useless and would live off DoorDash otherwise. She’s made you a roast cauliflower or something, Kitty. I swear, she’s a genius.’
‘That’s lovely,’ I say, surprisingly touched by the gesture. Antoinette gives me a look that says see.
We walk through to the kitchen. Lauren and Agnes have gone all out for us. The table has been dressed beautifully and the chicken is sat in the middle, all golden and glowing. My stomach growls in protest.
‘Ah, here are the guests of honour,’ Lauren’s disembodied voice says from somewhere behind the island.
She stands up and is holding a tray of perfect-looking roast potatoes.
‘Right on time! And Kitty, don’t worry, everything apart from the chicken has been cooked in veggie oil.
And I’ve made you a special vegan gravy too.
’ She smiles and carries the potatoes over to the table.
‘Almost had a heart attack that the potatoes weren’t going to be ready on time and the chicken was going to dry out. But it all came together in the end.’
‘She’ll make someone a wonderful wife one day,’ Agnes says.
‘Sit down,’ Lauren instructs us. ‘Pour yourself some wine. I didn’t know what y’all like so I just brought one of everything in.’
My heart misses a couple of beats. Has Lauren been in our wine cellar? The very wine cellar which is housing the dismembered body of an extremely famous man?
‘You’ve been in our wine cellar?’ I ask, trying to catch Antoinette’s eye.
Lauren smiles. ‘No, no,’ she says, ‘don’t panic. We’ve got our own one here. Aggy’s parents don’t cut corners.’
I cast my eyes over the array of wine bottles. She’s not wrong. There’s quite the selection. Reds, whites, pinks, oranges.
Lauren comes over with another tray. ‘So, Kitty, I’ve made you a harissa-roasted cauliflower. It’s my go-to for my plant-based friends, but absolutely no drama from me if you don’t like it.’
‘No,’ I say, ‘that sounds incredible.’
She puts the dish down in front of me and my nose is filled with the fragrance of delicious spices.
‘This is great,’ Antoinette says. ‘I can’t remember the last time we had a home-cooked meal.’
‘I just love your accents,’ Agnes says. ‘You both sound like the Queen. How long are you staying for?’
‘I’ve booked a month,’ I say, helping myself to potatoes. I can’t remember the last time I ate carbs. ‘Maybe not that long. We’ll see how it goes.’
‘Antoinette says you’re here to soak up Los Angeles and the culture?’
‘Kind of,’ I say.
‘Kitty’s here to mend her broken heart,’ Antoinette says and I glare at her. I don’t want to talk or even think about Charlie right now.
Lauren and Agnes make some sounds of sympathy.
‘Oh no,’ Agnes says. ‘That’s horrible. I’m so sorry. What happened?’
But I’m saved from having to answer by a thunderous hammering coming from the corridor beyond the kitchen.
A thunderous hammering that sounds extremely FBI-esque.