Page 134 of Every Time I Go on Vacation, Someone Dies

“I don’t… It was dark, the fireworks were flashing, but she was pushed.”

“Or she made it look that way to elicit your sympathy and cover her intentions.”

Oliver opens his mouth to say something, then stops.

Is that doubt I see on his face?

Of course it is.

He knows I’m not to be trusted with his heart. Why would he trust me about anything else?

“This is the problem,” Inspector Tucci says. “You think that you are able to solve this crime by yourselves, and you cannot. You must leave this to the professionals.”

“Ha,” Connor says. “Because that worked so well the last time.”

Inspector Tucci glares at him. “I do not think you understand, Mr. Smith. There is a murderer among you. Seeking them out”—he points to the easel—“is a bad idea.”

“Why don’t you just take Eleanor into custody, and then that will be that?” Guy asks.

“It does not work like that here. I must go to the magistrate first.”172

“You still have doubts,” Oliver guesses. “You’re not sure Eleanor did it, so you want to cover your tracks. Make it someone else’s decision.”

“I do not have to explain myself to you.”

“But I’m right, aren’t I? It’s because of what Connor said before—you were demoted ten years ago and I bet if you screw up again you’ll be out.”

Inspector Tucci works his jaw. “As I said before, you need to leave the investigating to the police. If you do not, you might stumble on something you shouldn’t and provoke a reaction.” He looks at me at this point and it’s not subtle. He thinks I’m dangerous. That they should be afraid of me. “Ms. Dash may not be acting alone. Be careful. Lock your doors tonight.”

“What about the rest of us?” Harper asks. She is surprisingly calm for someone whose sister was just accused of murder. But maybe I’d react the same way because I’d know it wasn’t true.

I mean, it can’t be true.

“What do you mean?” Inspector Tucci asks.

“You said you’d question all of us. Don’t you need to do that to be sure that you’re right?”

“Events have surpassed… But we will question all of you in the morning. I will return with my colleagues then. Be safe.”

He shoots one last glance at me, then leaves, taking the police officer with him.

The door is open; we aren’t locked in here. I feel trapped nonetheless.

Because this has to be a joke, right?

But no one’s laughing. No, instead, everyone’s looking at me in a way that I understand. They think I’m guilty, even though they haven’t even heard the evidence against me.

“Did you do it?” Isabella asks.

“Of course she didn’t,” Harper says. “Right, Eleanor?”

“I didn’t kill Shek.”

Ugh, that wasn’t convincing at all.

“I didn’t kill him.” There, I put my back into it that time.

“Hmmm,” Guy says, walking toward the easel. He picks up the discarded marker. It hovers on the square next to my name with the word “motive” in it. “Eleanor definitely had a motive to kill Connor.”

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