Page 155 of Every Time I Go on Vacation, Someone Dies

“But you were awake when the shots happened?”

Postcoital but awake. Oliver had woken me with a trail of kisses up my abdomen and we’d had a second go-around. It was quiet and intense and… Ahem. That’s enough of that.

“Yes. We heard two shots.”

“What time was it?”

“Before six. It was starting to get light out.”

“And then what?”

“I wanted to go and check what was going on, but Oliver thought it was too dangerous.”

“He held you back?”

“Yes.”

Inspector Tucci nods his head slowly, and I hate that the look in his eye puts thoughts in my head.

Thoughts like: Was Oliver really worried about something happening, or was he holding me back for some other reason?

But no, that’s ridiculous. Oliver wasn’t behind any of this, even though Allison was right.

There are too many suspects.

“How long did you wait to go out of the room?”

“A couple of minutes? When Harper started screaming… Maybe five minutes?”

“And did you hear anything while you were waiting?”

“Yes, there were footsteps on the stairs and above… People moving around who’d heard the shots, I assumed.”

“Anything more distinct than that?”

“No, I…”

“Yes?”

“I might’ve heard a door opening and closing?”

“From which direction?”

“I can’t remember.”

“Your room?”

“It’s possible. The person would’ve had to have gotten out that way.”

“If they left.”

If they… Oh, no, he means Harper. Harper didn’t leave.

“Harper didn’t do it.”

“We shall see. Anything else?” He flips a page in his notebook so that it’s blank. “This is the second floor. Your room was at the end of the hall here. And then Harper was next to you, then Mr. Forrest, and then Ms. Smith, yes?”

He writes our name and room numbers on the paper.

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