Page 127 of Every Time I Go on Vacation, Someone Dies

Then he leaves with our things, and we’re alone again with our thoughts.

“Maybe we should keep working on this?” Harper says, pointing to the easel.

“I’m game,” Emily says.

“But it’s not a game,” Oliver says. “Shek is dead.”

“You don’t need to remind me,” Emily says. “We all saw it happen.”

“If that’s the case, then, did you see anything useful?”

She cocks her head to the side. “I’ve been thinking… Everyone was standing around, holding their glasses. It’s a small deck. We were all near one another. Someone could’ve slipped the poison into Shek’s glass after he took it off the tray.”

I think it through. “But then that would mean Connor wasn’t the intended victim.”

“Yep.”

“Why would someone want to kill Shek?” Isabella asks.

Emily shrugs. “I’m sure the police will figure it out.”

Connor scoffs. “That man is barely a detective.”

“Surprising you don’t get along better, then, isn’t it?” Guy says.

“Really, Guy? You’re so smart? Then tell me why someone would want to kill me, Eleanor, and Shek? Explain it to me like I’m five.”

“I don’t think this is helping,” Oliver says. “We should leave all this to the professionals.”

“I agree,” I say. “We’re not getting anywhere.”

“We got Allison somewhere,” Harper says. “Right into the hot seat.”

I lean against her. “Maybe she did it?”

“You don’t believe that, do you?”

“No, but my instincts are for shit. That’s pretty well established.”

“Then we should keep on with this,” Harper says. “We can’t let Allison suffer for something she didn’t do.”

I look at the easel. “But the problem is, clearing Allison means making one of us the suspect.”

“I didn’t think of that.”

“It’s okay. Solving a murder is fun on paper, but not so much when it’s someone you knew.”

“None of this is okay,” Harper says, looking around the room slowly. “Shek’s dead and one of us did it.”

We don’t talk after that. Instead, we sit there, waiting for our turn to be interrogated, each of us lost in our own thoughts.161

I think about someone going through my things, running their hands in my suitcase, flipping through my notebook, seeing what shows and books I’ve downloaded on my Kindle.162 It feels like judgment, but I’m the one judging myself.

An hour goes by, and then Inspector Tucci returns with Allison.

It’s my turn now, he says, and this time no one makes a move to discourage me from talking to him.

Harper gives my hand a squeeze, and Oliver watches me leave the room,163 but no one else seems to be paying much attention. They’re all too wrapped up in their own fears.

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