Page 44 of To All the Men I’ve Killed Before

‘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.’

25

Agnes and Lauren’s guesthouse, West Hollywood, Los Angeles

The mood in the guesthouse is not the one I was expecting.

Lauren and Agnes are both sitting by the table. Lauren’s eyes are swollen and pink-rimmed. She’s nuzzling into Lana Del Gay. Agnes is staring into space, barely aware of our presence.

Something’s happened.

Something bad.

‘What is it?’ Antoinette says, rushing over to Agnes’s side. ‘What’s wrong?’ Agnes gives her a mournful look and pushes her phone into my sister’s hands. Antoinette blinks at the little screen for a couple of seconds then turns her eyes to me. They are huge with horror but, I notice, a tiny glint of something else in them.

What’s going on?

Lauren rubs a hand over her eyes and turns to me.