Page 162 of Every Time I Go on Vacation, Someone Dies

But not you, right? You’ve figured this out?

No?

Either way, pour a drink—a spritz, obvi—and read on. The solution’s coming soon.

And as the song goes, there’s one last call for alcohol.

CHAPTER 26Am I About to Get Murdered on a Minibus?

Ravello

The only person who talks on the minibus to Ravello is Sylvie.

She’s a nonstop fount of half information, chattering out chipper facts about the beautiful towns that dot the coast. Amalfi (my least favorite), Positano (colorful and expensive), and finally, at the top of a cliff, Ravello.

“And now we come to Ravello,” she says, talking through a small microphone that looks like a CB radio from the seat next to the driver.

We’re all buckled in tight because of the twisty road, but she seems unconcerned, half out of her seat and facing us.

Oliver’s in the first row behind the driver with Allison; then it’s me and Harper, then Guy and Emily, and Connor and Isabella way in the back.

“Ravello is a resort town set three hundred and sixty-five meters above the Tyrrhenian Sea by the Amalfi Coast and is home to iconic cliffside gardens. The thirteenth-century Moorish-style Villa Rufolo offers far-reaching views from its terraced gardens and hosts indoor and outdoor concerts during the popular summertime Ravello Festival. Villa Cimbrone, a medieval-style estate perched on a steep outcrop, is surrounded by another celebrated garden.”198

“Oh my God,” Harper says, nudging my elbow. “She’s just reading off the internet now.”

She puts her phone screen in front of me. Sylvie’s directly quoted from Google without changing a word of the phrasing.199

“An impressive feat of memory,” I say. “Or she’s got her phone in her lap.”

“It’s weird.”

“This whole trip is weird.”

Harper pulls a face. “Understatement.”

“I know.” I put my arm around her shoulder. She feels hot despite the air blowing full blast in the car. “We’re okay, right?”

She squeezes me back. “Of course we are.”

“Everyone wants me to believe you tried to kill me.”

“Everyone wants me to believe you faked your own almost-death to frame me.”

“What? Who said that?”

“Emily.”

I turn my head to steal a glance at her. She’s gazing out the window, not paying attention to Sylvie. I mean, no one is, really. What’s the point? We can google on our own.

“Ignore her,” I say.

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry she betrayed your confidence like that.”

“Whatever.”

I tap Harper on the chin for emphasis. “No, not ‘whatever.’ I’m sure that’s not how you wanted me to find out about you and… Connor, for one.”

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