Page 31 of The Villa

BEX:For. Sure. Which is now where our murderer comes in.

KALI:Ourallegedmurderer.

BEX:Right, our alleg—but he was convicted? So, I don’t think we have to say alleged?

KALI:Good point. Ourconvictedmurderer, then.

BEX:Yes, ourconvictedmurderer, one John Dorchester who apparently everyone called Johnnie.

KALI:Awww, Johnnie. Like he was in the T-Birds.

BEX:[laughs] Yes, Johnnie. Poor Johnnie. This was a bad summer for you, bro!

KALI:Just a real shit show of a summer vacation for good ol’ Johnnie.

—transcript of Episode 206 ofTwo Girls, One Murder: “When in Rome (Don’t Do Murder)”

CHAPTER SEVEN

“You have to admit, long as we’ve been friends, this is a first for us.”

I pull one earbud out of my ear, pausing the podcast I was listening to. “What?”

Chess sits next to me on a wooden bench seat, draped in yet more bizarrely unwrinkled linen. Her hair frames her face, setting off a pair of jade statement earrings, and I wish I’d thrown on something a little nicer than the cotton floral jumpsuit and ballet flats I’d chosen.

“I said,” Chess says, reaching over to take out my other earbud, “This is a first! In our friendship.”

I look around me as we climb higher and higher toward the walled part of Orvieto. We’d decided that after nearly two weeks bumming around the villa and the local countryside, it was finally time to tackle the city itself.

“Doing touristy things?” I ask. “Because we did Panama City Beach for spring break in 2006, although I can’t blameyou for not remembering that given the sheer amount of Jose Cuervo consumed.”

Nudging my foot with the toe of one leather sandal, Chess pushes her sunglasses up on top of her head. “I’m referring tothis,” she says, gesturing out the window. “Riding a funicular.”

“That is true,” I agree, nodding. “Whole new mode of transport for us.”

“Planes, trains, automobiles, and funiculars,” Chess adds, and I laugh.

“Maybe you can use that as one of your new book titles.Ride That Funicular, Girl!”

“A Funicular That Only Goes Up.”

“Girls Just Wanna Have Funiculars.”

Chess laughs at that, a real laugh, and I lean against her for a second, feeling relieved. Things had mostly gone back to normal after that tense moment at the table the other day, but I’ve felt the memory of it hanging there between us, a dark cloud neither of us wants to mention. Today is the first day I’ve finally started to feel like we’re back on track, back to being Em and Chess.

“So, what have you been listening to so intently?” she asks now, gesturing at my phone, and I sheepishly hold it up.

“Murder podcast.”

She reads the title—Two Girls, One Murder—and rolls her eyes. “Oh my god, I know those women. We were at the same women in tech conference once. Completely obnoxious,deeplyL.A.”

I’m not sure what that actually means—the L.A. part, that is, I get the obnoxious bit—but I nod along anyway. “They’re not always my favorites,” I say, “but there are only a couple of podcasts about the murder at the villa, and this one is a lotbetter than the three-part series by Fedora Dude that I told you about.”

Chess’s earrings jingle as she swings her head to look at me. “That’s two,” she says, holding up two fingers. “You are now halfway through your allotted murder mentions.”

Laughing, I wrap my own fingers around hers, pulling her hand down as the funicular shudders to a stop. “You’re going to have to give me some leeway on it because it’s actually super interesting, Chess.”

“Super macabre,” she counters, and I can’t argue with that.

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