Chapter 24
Kitty and Antoinette’s Airbnb, West Hollywood, Los Angeles
Later, back at the villa, Antoinette and I are toasting our night’s work with a cup of hibiscus and rose tea.
‘And that’s how it’s done,’ I’m explaining to her. ‘A simple accident.’
‘Poor Carey,’ she says, sticking her bottom lip out, and we both laugh.
‘Just a silly, drunk reveller. And the best part is there’s no mess to clean up or body to dispose of. The City of West Hollywood will literally do that for us.’
She’s nodding, excited. ‘That was great,’ she says. ‘He really was a piece of shit, wasn’t he?’
‘Absolutely,’ I say. ‘But he didn’t know he was going to run into the Collins sisters.’
‘The Collins sisters,’ Antoinette parrots. ‘Sounds good, doesn’t it?’
‘It really does. Cheers to us.’ We clink our mugs together, grinning at each other.
Maybe this will work after all.
Maybe she is trainable and won’t get us caught.
I have to admit, it was fun doing this with someone else. Someone with the same values.
Serial killing can be a lonely vocation.
‘So who’s next?’ Antoinette asks. ‘We could try to find the guy that whistled at us at the airport. Or the guy who tried to grab my—’
‘Antoinette,’ I cut her off. ‘We can’t go after every single man for the slightest little thing. We haven’t got enough time, for one thing.’
She scowls at me. ‘But Kitty. It’s the everyday sexism, the slightest little things, that lead to the big things. Everyday sexism is a gateway drug. It’s the literal foundations of the patriarchy.’
‘I’m not saying you’re wrong. I’m just saying we have to pick our battles. And I’ve picked our battle. It’s Aidan Ward. I don’t want to get distracted.’
She nods. ‘And the WeHo Ripper,’ she says.
‘Once we’re certain he actually exists outside the minds of overimaginative Redditors.’
‘He does. My killer intuition is telling me that there’s someone else out there.’
‘Your killer intuition?’
‘Yes,’ she says. ‘It’s like my super power. And I’m telling you, Kits, we’re not the only serial killers in WeHo.’
‘Great,’ I say, mocking. ‘We could start a convention.’
Antoinette closes her eyes, like she’s trying to block me and my scepticism out. ‘You can be as sarcastic as you like,’ she says. ‘But when you know, you know.’
‘Well, like I said, find me proof and then we’ll talk.’
‘I fully intend to.’ She smiles at me. ‘Agnes is nice, isn’t she?’ She sounds shy suddenly, like she’s asking for my approval.
‘She seems very nice,’ I say, surprised by the sudden subject swerve.
‘I think I like her.’
‘Yeah, I assumed that.’
‘I mean like her, like her.’
I laugh. ‘I’d assumed that too.’
‘Oh. Well, do you think she likes me?’
I sigh. ‘Antoinette. I have no idea. I’m hardly the right person to be asking for romantic advice. My last boyfriend literally fled the country to get away from me.’ She looks crestfallen and guilt jabs me in the ribs. ‘Why don’t you just ask her? That’s the simplest thing.’
‘God, no. How cringe would it be if I’ve read it wrong? And then she’s living like two minutes away.’ She shudders.
‘Just do it,’ I say. ‘What’s the absolute worst that could happen?’
Antoinette turns to me, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. ‘I will,’ she says. ‘On the condition that you text Travis and ask him out.’
Urgh.
‘But I don’t want to.’
She folds her arms. ‘And I don’t particularly want to put myself out there either. But I’ll do it if you do.’
‘This feels like emotional blackmail.’
Antoinette shrugs and sips her tea. ‘What’s the absolute worst that could happen?’
‘You’re right,’ I say, calling her bluff. ‘Let’s go and find Agnes right now.’