Page 150 of Every Time I Go on Vacation, Someone Dies

“What are you apologizing for?”

“For trying to kill you, obviously.”

“Shut up, Emily!”

“No! I didn’t try to kill anyone. I didn’t do that to Shek. I don’t know who got Guy’s gun or how, or when they got my master key, or any of it.”

Emily scoffs, turning to me. “How can you trust her if she didn’t even confide in you?”

“That’s between us. And you’re one to talk. If having your heart broken by Connor is a motive, you probably want to kill him, too. Or was it just some stupid one-night stand that didn’t mean anything to you?”

“Shove it.”

“That’s the best you can come up with? ‘Shove it’? No wonder you have to steal plots to get published.”

Emily lifts her chin. “The New York Times called my book ‘brilliant and satisfying with a twist you won’t see coming.’”

“So you can’t be a murderer if you get an endorsement from the New York Times?189 Come on. I saw you cuddling up to Harper in Pompeii and then again in Capri. Was it all some trick to get her to confide in you? Maybe you were looking for dirt about me? Or maybe… You could’ve taken the room key then. And you also went to Guy’s table last night, didn’t you?”

I’m bluffing about this last part because I only had eyes for Oliver, but sometimes that’s how you get through life.

You take a shot in the dark, and it hits the bull’s-eye.

“So what?”

“So, you could’ve spiked Guy’s drink. Assuming it was spiked.”

“What does that mean?”

I glance at Guy. “We don’t have tox results. We only have your word for it. Inspector Tucci was right, we need to stop speculating and go with the facts.”

“I grant you that I’ve thought about killing Connor over the years, but what possible reason could I have for killing you?”

“Cover.”

“Please. I’m not a sociopath. And if I did it, no one would even know he was dead. He’d just disappear.”

“Sounds like a confession.”

“Speaking of disappearing,” Oliver says, “where’s Connor?”

Oh, shit.

Connor.

Somehow in all of this, I forgot about him.

We all did.

I stand. “What if the shots in my room were just a diversion? Something to keep us looking away from Connor long enough for someone to do away with him?”

“You may have a point.”

“We should check on him.”

I nod to Oliver and we make for the door.

Out in the lobby, the staff are rushing around and the phones are ringing. We’re not the only guests in this hotel, and others have been disturbed by our drama. There’s a heavyset American man with a deep Southern accent demanding a refund from a harried-looking woman behind the check-in counter.

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