Page 107 of Every Time I Go on Vacation, Someone Dies

“Does he know anything about cars?” I ask.

“Doesn’t he famously have a classic car collection?”

“Oh, he was on an episode of the show Leno does, right?”

“That rings a bell. Has he been in LA recently?”

I pull out my phone and google Shek. He has an Instagram account that appears quite active. I navigate to it and check his posts. There’s one from our trip—the street where the restaurant was, and—oh! “Look, he was at the Vatican. Two days ago.”

Oliver takes my phone and scrolls down. “And in LA. He had an event there. When did the car thing happen?”

“I’m not sure. A couple of weeks ago, Connor said.”

“We need a timeline.”

I take my notebook out of my purse, flipping past the pages of my outline for Amalfi Made Me Do It.

June X—Connor’s car

July 2—Vatican attempt

July 3—Connor’s savior killed

July 4—Eleanor attempt

July 5—Jellyfish?

“Where was Shek during the day on the third?” I ask. “He wasn’t at the Colosseum or the Forum.”

“Only the dinner.” Oliver looks at his Instagram again. “Nothing here.”

“What about Twitter? Didn’t he get in some flame war with someone on there recently?”

“You know I don’t follow all that stuff.”

I take my phone from him and go to my Twitter app. I search for Shek and find him. Turns out, he’s been posting a regular travel log of our trip, tweeting every couple of hours. On July 3, he visited a bunch of sites in Rome—the Trevi Fountain, the Spanish Steps, and a restaurant near the Colosseum. I show the tweets to Oliver.

“Where did that guy get killed?” Oliver asks.

“Near the Pantheon… Check this out.” I point to one of Shek’s tweets. On July 3 at 2:42 P.M., he tweeted, The Pagan gods would be pleased, along with a photo from inside the Pantheon. “He was there.”

“That was before we were in the Forum.”

“Yes. Our Colosseum tour was at two.”

Oliver thinks it over. “And we were in the Forum around three thirty.”

“So, enough time to get from one location to the other if he’s working with whoever mugged Harper.”

“Right. But why would he signal his location? Why tweet at all?”

I tap my pen against the notebook. “Maybe he thinks he’s creating an alibi? Or it’s a way to cover up his phone signal? An explanation of why he’d be in the area if anyone went looking?”

“That’s smart,” Oliver says. “Do things near tourist sites when you’re a tourist…”

“What is it?”

Oliver takes my phone and types something. He reads for a moment, then his face pales. “I thought so… That’s what the murderer does in Tourist Trap.”131, 132