Page 125 of Every Time I Go on Vacation, Someone Dies

“Not you,” Connor says.

And for once, I can’t help but agree with him.

CHAPTER 21Inspector Tucci, I Presume

The man who walks through the door is Inspector Tucci.

Who’s he, you ask?

Close readers of whatever this is will find the name familiar. That’s because it’s the name of the inspector Connor and I took our evidence to ten years ago. The one who didn’t like Connor. Who didn’t believe us to start out with. And who was pissed at us even once it turned out that everything we told him was true.154

Back then, Inspector Tucci was a rising star in Rome’s police department. What he’s doing in Naples is anyone’s guess. But given the expression on his face155, 156 as he surveys the room, then lands on me, then Connor, we’re about to find out.

“Mr. Smith,” he says in nearly perfect English with a slight British accent to it. I think he studied in the UK, or maybe he did an exchange with Scotland Yard. It’s not like policemen’s résumés are just out there on the internet. “And Ms. Dash. Together again.”

“Inspector Tucci,” I say, mustering a smile. “How nice to see you.”

Connor shoots me a look, but then smothers it and holds out his hand. “Small world.”

Inspector Tucci looks at Connor’s hand like it’s a snake. “It is not, as you say, a small world, but a cruel one.”

“Yes, I… It’s terrible what happened to Shek…”

But Inspector Tucci’s not looking at Connor anymore. Instead, he walks past him and toward the easel near the fireplace with our theorizing on it. Isabella steps aside, capping the pen she’s been using, and Inspector Tucci stands in front of it for a long moment, then takes a photo of it with his phone. Then he turns to face us, taking us in one by one while we wait for him to say something.

Anything.

I believe this is what they call a pregnant silence.157

Inspector Tucci’s dark eyes stop on the small table next to the couch I’m sitting on. He walks toward it and picks up my notebook. “Does this belong to someone here?”

I feel the need to put up my hand like I’ve been called on in class but squash it. “Yes, it’s mine.”

He pockets it in his blazer. He isn’t wearing a uniform, and he didn’t in Rome either. Back then, he was always well tailored, but now he’s a bit rumpled, and his suit has that shine to it that clothes get when they’ve been dry-cleaned one too many times. Inspector Tucci has come down in the world.158

“What are you—?”

“All of you will turn in your bags and the items in your pockets to Officer Salvo, and then I will bring you in for individual questioning.”

“Do you know what happened to Shek?” Emily asks.

“Mr. Botha? He is dead.”159

“Yes, we know that, Tucci, but how?”

Inspector Tucci gives Connor a cold glare. “It is Inspector Tucci. And I do not have to answer your questions.” He turns back to the rest of us. “You will stay here while your rooms are searched.”

“Don’t you need a warrant?” Guy asks. He and Inspector Tucci also met once or twice back in the day and had a grudging respect for each other.

“This is Italy, not America.”160

“And if we don’t agree?” Connor asks.

“Is there some reason why you don’t want your person or room searched, Mr. Smith?”

Connor works his jaw. “Of course not.”

“Then we will not have a problem.”