Page 51 of Every Time I Go on Vacation, Someone Dies

“Oh, I thought…”

I twirl my fork in the pasta. “That I was going to murder him for real? The thought had occurred.”

I take a bite, and the pasta is everything I hoped it would be—the umami of the tomato and the spicy guanciale mixing perfectly.

“I’ve fantasized about it,” Oliver says.

“You’re not the only one, according to him, but him dead in the book should be enough for my purposes.”

“He really thinks someone’s trying to kill him?”

“Apparently.”

“Why?”

“He’s been short on details…”

“So unlike him.”

“Yes, that’s the only thing that makes me think it might be real.”

“Hmmm,” Oliver says. “And you ending the series—you think he’s going to let you get away with it?”

“Harper said something similar, but what can he do?”

“You know I hate the man, but he’s resourceful, I’ll give him that.”

“He can’t make me write about him.”

“Have you spoken to Stephanie or Vicki?”

Vicki is my editor. “No, not yet.”

“They’re not going to be happy.”

“I know.”

“What if they won’t publish you again?”

“I’m okay with that.”

His mouth twists. “Really?”

“I’m fine financially… and let’s be honest, a final installment where Connor dies will probably sell like gangbusters.”

“You so sure they’ll agree to publish it?”

This stops me. It hasn’t occurred to me that they might turn the manuscript down. “Maybe not. I’ll have to see once I write it.”

He spears a crouton. “So, how are you going to do it?”

“Not sure yet.”

“If you need help…”

I catch his eye. “We’re talking about in the book, right?”

“Literary murder. Not literal murder.”

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