Page 118 of Every Time I Go on Vacation, Someone Dies

“Exactly.”

“Well,” Emily says, “we know what the means are, don’t we? Shek was poisoned by his drink.”

“Right,” I say, thinking back to the glasses on the tray, arranged in a half circle just like we were. But then Connor turned his glass down, and Shek grabbed it before anyone could stop him. “That was supposed to be Connor’s glass.”

“That’s one thing the killer got wrong,” Allison says. “Connor hates Champagne.”

“You’re right, I do.”

“Did everyone know that except for me?” Isabella asks.

There’s a chorus of yeses.

“You didn’t pour it, though,” I say. “Sylvie did.” I look around. “Where is Sylvie, anyway?”

“I heard the police say they’d question her separately,” Isabella says, “and Captain Marco, too.”

“You understand Italian?” I ask.

“I did Duolingo before I came on this trip.”

Of course she did. “Good for you.”

“You think the police think that Marco and Sylvie were in on it?” Allison asks.

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Connor says. “I’ve never met Sylvie before this tour, and Marco only today. And neither of them was there for the other incidents.”

“I agree with Connor,” I say.

“But Sylvie poured the Champagne,” Emily says. “She had the best opportunity.”

“And she wouldn’t have known that Connor doesn’t like Champagne,” Harper adds.

“It wasn’t them,” Connor says.

“How do you explain it, then?” Oliver says.

Connor works his jaw, like he’s trying to decide what to say.

“Now’s not the time to hold back, Connor,” I say. “Someone is already dead. Two people, in fact.”

“Two?” Guy says.

I explain about the man outside the Vatican, and the information is received with a sobering silence. Because you can make sense of one murder, but two?

“What did you want to say before, Connor?”

“Yes, well, Allison said I didn’t like Champagne when I didn’t take the glass. Which conveniently provides an alibi for everyone but Marco, Sylvie, and Isabella.”

“Why is it convenient?” Isabella asks. “Oh, you think someone is framing me?”

“That’s ridiculous,” Allison says.

“Is it?” Connor says.

“Who’s supposed to be the one doing the framing?”

Connor just stares at her.