Page 4 of To All the Men I’ve Killed Before

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Chateau Marmont, West Hollywood, Los Angeles

Okay.

So this is impressive.

Like really impressive.

I stare up at the huge white building and blink a few times as I take it in. There might even be tears in my eyes.

This place.

The history.

It’s beautiful.

I can’t believe I haven’t actually been here before.

And where else could we possibly stay while in LA than here, a place renowned for two of the most important things for murder: privacy and discretion. After all, that’s why we’re here.

I turn to look at Antoinette to see the same stars twinkling in her eyes. But she just looks … underwhelmed.

‘Is this it?’ she asks me with absolutely no irony in her voice.

‘What do you mean, is this it?’

She shrugs and stares at the building. ‘I don’t know. I was just expecting something else. It looks like the Hollywood Tower ride at Disneyland.’

I stare at the building with her and, yes, okay, it does maybe look a little bit on the dilapidated side, but that’s part of its charm.

It’s the fucking Chateau.

‘It’s Hollywood history,’ I tell her. ‘So much has gone on in between those walls. Parties, affairs, deaths. It’s actually haunted.’

‘Urgh, imagine being stuck here for eternity,’ she says with a sigh as she grabs the handle on her suitcase and begins to wheel it towards the entrance where a concierge is waiting to greet us.

I stare after her.

How can a sister of mine be disappointed by the Chateau Marmont?

I suppose I’m only just getting to know her properly though. I actually know very little about this twenty-year-old who is suddenly my flesh and blood.

I only discovered she was my half-sister a few weeks ago, even though I’ve known her since she was born. Turns out she was the product of an affair between my father and her mother. Since then I’ve discovered that, while blood may well be thicker than water, it’s also very … different.

But it’s going to be fine.

I’m sure we’ll discover that we have loads of other things in common.

Apart from our father’s passion for killing.

And where better to build our sisterly bond than here, in Hollywood, tied by blood and our mission – to find Aidan Ward.

Inside, the lobby is elegant and dimly lit and I feel my heart quicken. It even smells of glamour. Like skin, the ghost of cigarettes and leather.

It’s perfect.

We’re booked into one of the (in)famous bungalows, which should give us the privacy we need.