Page 14 of Every Time I Go on Vacation, Someone Dies

He puts his hands on his hips. “Is this not more important?”

“There’s nothing we can do about it now. Let’s do the tour, and we’ll discuss it afterward.”

He doesn’t like it, but he doesn’t have much choice. “All right. And, um, thank you.”

This stops me. I’ve never heard Connor thank anyone before. Certainly not me.

“Tick tock,” Harper says, tapping her foot.

“Yes, coming.”

I link my arm through Harper’s, and we walk down the street with Connor following behind. We’re only a few minutes from the Colosseum, so we won’t be too late. It’s something Harper’s always bugging me about—my tardiness. Harper’s never late for anything.

“What do you make of that?” Harper says once we’ve turned off the side street and are in the middle of a crowd on the Piazza del Colosseo. The sky is a perfect, icy blue above the Arch of Constantine—a tall marble structure with three arches in it.

“I don’t know yet.”

“I bet he knows who’s blackmailing him.”

“Agreed. Or a list of suspects at least.”

“Wonder why he didn’t tell you?”

“That’s how Connor operates. On a need-to-know basis.”

“True. This way.”

We cross the street to the courtyard outside the Colosseum. Doing this in Rome always feels like taking your life into your hands,23 and today is no exception. Pushing someone into traffic would be a good way to get rid of someone. People must get run over by cars in this city all the time.24

We make it safely across, and now we’re directly in front of the Colosseum. Its faded marble contours rise above us, looming over the throngs of tourists wearing small yellow transmitters on black lanyards, and tour guides yelling out the prices of their tours.

I did this tour ten years ago with Connor. He’d dazzled me with his knowledge of Roman history. Then he’d taken me out for one of the best meals I’ve ever had at this little tucked-away restaurant and kissed me until my knees were weak on the Ponte Fabricio.25 Early the next morning, a bank was burglarized while half the city was at the Festa de’ Noantri.26 I’d been instantly fascinated with the robberies, and Connor was, too. Soon after, he was hired to investigate them and we figured out that we made a good team.27 It felt like a confirmation of the feelings I had for him, but then…

I push away the dark thoughts trying to crowd their way in. All this talk of murder—real and imagined—coupled with being back in this city with Connor has left me feeling unsettled. The day may be sunny, but there’s a shadow across it.28

“Where are we supposed to be meeting the guide?” I ask.

“Over there, I think.” Harper points to a group of twenty middle-aged women standing in a tight-knit circle. They’re all wearing the same T-shirt, and it takes me a minute to realize the design on the front is When in Rome’s book cover.

My heart sinks. “This is a fan event?”

“Did you not read the itinerary?”

I didn’t read the itinerary. I never do. Reading about the details of travel exhausts me. Instead, I’d opened the email so it was marked as “read” and forgot about it.

“Some of it?”

“You’re the worst.”

I glance over my shoulder. Connor’s looking at the pack of fans with mild amusement, his distress from a few minutes ago erased. “Pretty sure I’m not.”

“Yes,” Harper says. “It’s a fan event.”

“And these fans are?”

“The BookFace Ladies.”

“The what now?”

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