“Help!” I yell and start to swim in a panic toward where Allison went under. Shek is behind me, like a shadow.
I get there right as Allison surfaces with a grimace on her face.
And then she starts yelling bloody murder.
“What is it? Allison, are you okay?”
“A jellyfish,” she yells. “I got stung!”
“Try to hold still,” Shek says. “That thrashing can’t help.”
Allison grits her teeth and steadies herself, but the pain is written all over her face.
Oliver swims up next to me, his hair wet, water clinging to his shoulders.116 “What’s happening?”
“She was stung by a jellyfish,” I say. “Be careful.”
It seems to occur to Shek for the first time that if Allison got stung, he could, too. He starts to glide away from us slowly on his back, his hands making small movements at his sides.
Coward.
Meanwhile, Oliver swims around Allison and slips his arms under her armpits. “Try to stay still. I’ll swim you back to the boat.”
Allison nods calmly, but she has tears streaming down her face. Oliver turns her around and starts to swim backward, passing Shek with a few powerful kicks. The swimmers from the other boats have kept their distance, forming a loose semicircle around the mouth of the cave, and the rest of our party have reversed course and climbed back into the boat. Everything looks so calm, but my heart is thundering and I feel short of breath.
Another almost-death. Another woman who needed to be saved by Oliver.
What was I just saying about coincidences?117
I turn back toward the cave and search the water, waiting for it to clear. When it does, all I see is my legs, making slow circles as I tread water. I’m not sure what I was expecting to find, but then it hits me, like it must’ve occurred to Shek, that I might not see the jellyfish until it’s too late. So, I start to swim away from the cave, passing the silent group of red-shouldered tourists bobbing on their pool noodles.
“Be careful,” I tell them. “There are jellyfish in the water.”
A man with a thick thatch of gray hair says in a slightly imperious manner, “There aren’t any jellyfish in the Med.”
My heart starts to hammer again as I swim away from him. Is that right? It’s easy enough to look up. But why would Allison lie? Her screams and tears were real. What would she have to gain by faking that?
I shake the thought away as I watch Oliver and Connor bring Allison up into the boat as Shek watches.
“You planning on helping?” I say as I pull up next to him.
“They seem to have everything well in hand.”
I roll my eyes as I pass him. Is it wrong to think that it makes more sense for someone to want Shek dead than me?118
I grip the ladder and haul myself up, happy that Oliver’s already in the boat and can’t see how inelegant I am as I climb up the ladder.
“What are you doing?” Allison says as I stand on the deck.
“Just hold still,” Connor says with his back to me.
I walk toward my bag so I can get my towel.
“Don’t do it.”
I have a better angle now. Connor’s in the middle of undoing the belt on his shorts.
“Stop, Connor, you perv!”
His face is crimson. “I’m going to pee on her leg to stop the stinging. Urine has medicinal properties in these situations.”
“You are not doing that,” Allison says from the bench, gritting her teeth. There’s a red welt on her leg and I instantly feel better. She’s not making it up. Something did sting her.
Which sucks, of course, and must hurt like hell, but in the grand scheme of things, it’s better than it being an invention.
Better for me, I mean.
I am the worst.
“Do your pants up, Connor, for once in your life,” Oliver says.
Harper starts to giggle. She’s sitting where I left her when I went in the water with Emily and Isabella. Isabella hides her laugh behind her hand. Maybe there’s trouble in paradise? If she’s already at the laugh-at-Connor stage, she’s smarter than I’ve given her credit for.
“There must be something we can do that doesn’t involve the medicinal properties of pee,” Emily says. “Sylvie?”
We turn toward the upper deck, where Sylvie is consulting with Captain Marco. He jumps down onto our deck with a small white box in his hand with a Red Cross on it.
“I have some salve that will help,” he says with almost no Italian accent. He crouches down by Allison and opens the box, then takes out a small container and opens it. “Does someone have a cloth?”
“I do,” Oliver says. He picks up his discarded shorts and pulls out a pristine handkerchief with his initials on it, like the one he used on Harper the other day. It occurs to me now that it’s part of the set I gave him for his birthday four years ago. So he didn’t throw all of me away. “This do?”
Captain Marco takes it, then applies a clear, goopy concoction to Allison’s leg as she winces. “This will numb the area and heal the skin,” he says. “I will give you the container. Apply every four hours.”
“Thank you.”
“Perhaps we will go to Capri a bit early?” Sylvie says. “There is a clinic there.”
Allison leans back against the cushions. “I think I’ll stay on the boat. Is there somewhere I can take a nap?”
“There is a small cabin below deck,” Captain Marco says. “You can rest there.”
I wrap my towel around me and run my hands through my hair. Then I tap Oliver on the arm to get his attention. “You saved the day, again.”
He stands and turns. I try not to stare at his naked chest. Instead, I pick a point on his face, a single freckle that wasn’t there yesterday.
“I don’t think she was in any danger of dying.”
“Only in danger of getting peed on by Connor.”
Oliver starts to laugh. “Do you think he was really going to do it?”
“Nothing surprises me with him anymore.”
“Excuse me,” Connor says. “But this is no laughing matter.”
Isabella hides her smile again. I might actually like the girl in different circumstances.
“Allison’s going to survive,” Oliver says, getting control of himself. “She’ll be all right.”
“Thanks to you, I suppose.”
“Thanks to most jellyfish not being deadly.”
Shek emerges at the top of the ladder and takes in the scene in a lackadaisical way. “I say, have you noticed that this trip is cursed?”119
An hour later, we’re on a small bus to Anacapri. The BookFace Ladies have been up there since this morning, Harper tells me—joy!—and I’m sitting next to Connor, which, for once, is intentional.
When we got off the boat in Capri, I regretted it immediately. Out on the water, it was lovely and cool. But the town of Capri is cramped and crowded, full of tourists and loud buses honking at the people who are crazy enough to rent mopeds at the height of the tourist season.120
Sylvie shepherded us onto a series of minibuses and told us she’d meet us at the top for lunch at another local restaurant with a fantastic view. Based on my experience in Pompeii, I wanted to skip the lunch, but Harper reminded me that I’m contractually obligated to be there.121
In the meantime, it was time to get serious about figuring out what the hell is going on. So, I let Oliver get on the bus in front of me, then basically pushed Isabella on after him and watched the doors close. Then I grabbed Connor by the hand and hauled him onto the next bus while he sputtered in protest.
“What did you do that for?” Connor asks as we take a seat on a small two-seater bench that leaves us way too close together for comfort.
“Because it’s time to tell me the rest of it.”
“Rest of what?”
“Who is it, Connor? Who’s trying to kill you?”
“I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do. That investment you made. You need to come clean.”
Connor looks around. There’s no one on this bus that we know. “Why?”
“Because someone is trying to kill both of us, and I want to know who.”
“Maybe it doesn’t have anything to do with that. Not if you’re a target, too.”
“You’re questioning that?”
“No, I—”
“Just tell me already.”
Connor sighs as the bus starts to climb a twisty, narrow road. I’m next to the window, and the barrier between us and oblivion is a low rock wall.
Maybe it wasn’t the best idea for the both of us to get on the same bus.
“Last year, I made an investment in a cryptocurrency company.”
“I thought you were smarter than that.”
“Excuse me?”
“Everyone knows that’s a scam.”
“Oh, everyone does now?”
“Any financial product that has celebrities hocking it is suspect.122 I mean, are there Federal Reserve ads with Julia Roberts insisting that the dollar is a great investment in the future?”
“No need to be so condescending, Eleanor. Especially since it’s your fault.”
“My fault?”
“The royalties from the Vacation Mysteries series are diminishing at a precipitous rate.”
“I … They are?”
“You haven’t noticed? That figures.”
I haven’t. Harper takes care of my finances.123 But why wouldn’t she tell me about this? “We’re talking about me, not you.”
“Fine. Well, they are. And I have a big monthly nut,124 and I needed to diversify to protect my assets.”
“But crypto? Why gamble like that?”
He smiles in a way I know he thinks is charming. “I’ve always been a risk-taker. You know that … Anyway, part of my, um, deal with them was that I encourage others to invest.”
“Your deal?”
“My endorsement deal.”
“You were a celebrity endorser?”
His face sets. “No need to sound quite so surprised.”
“Okay, fine. Sorry. How did you do it? I don’t remember seeing the TV spot.”
“It was a more personal approach.”
“Like what? Meetings?”
“No, I … sent out a newsletter.”
“You have a newsletter?”125
Wait, wait, wait. Is Connor blushing?
“I, uh, I’ve been building one for a while.”
“Building how?”
“Adding people to it here and there.”
“How come I don’t get it?”
He shoots me a look. “You unsubscribed.”
“I … what?”126
He crosses his arms and looks away.
“Why do you have a mailing list, Connor?”
“If you must know, I’ve been writing a book.”
Plot twist!
“Like a memoir?”
“Like a novel.”
Um, what?
My brain starts to whir, and then I remember. “Harper mentioned something about you studying creative writing in college—is that true?”
“Yes. I have an MFA.”
“You have an MFA.”
“No need to repeat me.”
I give myself a shake, trying to make sense of the information I’ve received in the last minute. “I’m sorry, I just … Whenever I asked you anything about your past, you’d always change the subject.”
He gives me an appraising look. “Is that why you were with me? Because you were interested in my past?”
Now it’s my turn to blush. “I … What kind of novel?”
“It’s a rom-com.”
“A what?”
“A romantic comedy.”
Don’t laugh, El. Do. Not. Laugh.
“Is it being published?”
“It’s not finished yet.” He sighs. “But if you must know, I’m planning on polishing it this fall and then taking it out to agents.”
“What … what’s it about?”
“It’s called Spare Parts. A Mr. Fix-It who lives in a seaside town ends up on a date with a woman who’s come home to nurse her ailing father after she bids on him in a charity auction.”
!!!127
He looks at me. “Are you all right, Eleanor?”
“I’m processing.” My brain is skipping like our DVD player used to do when we were on a bumpy car ride with my parents. “Okay, so, you sent out the crypto offer to your newsletter—who took you up on it?”
“I don’t know.”
“How can you not know?”
“That’s the whole point of blockchain;128 it’s anonymous.”
“The better to defraud people.”
“It’s not built for fraud. I … Forget it.”
I put my hand on his arm. “You must know something more than that. Why else would you be so sure that the person who’s trying to kill you is on the tour?”
“They’re all on the newsletter.”
“And?”
“I believe Shek invested.”
“Based on?”
“Things he’s said to me over the last couple of months.”
I stare at him. I’ve never been able to tell when he’s lying. I mean, obviously. But Shek? I’d always thought he was an open book.
I think back to our conversation on the veranda yesterday and pluck something out of the fog of alcohol. “But wait, yesterday he said he didn’t invest in crypto. Though that confirms that he did know about it.”
“I wouldn’t believe anything Shek says.”
The bus jolts, and I look out the window. We’re halfway up the hill now, and the views are breathtaking but also dizzying. I should’ve taken the aisle seat.
I turn away and refocus on Connor. “Okay, so, Shek.”
“Maybe. I’m not sure. Guy, potentially, though he’d deny it, too.”
“And what happened? It crashed?”
“It did.”
“And you were involved in that?”
“No, I … I helped the CEO leave the country.”
“To the Bahamas?”
“What? No. Only idiots try to hide in countries with extradition treaties with the US. He’s somewhere he won’t be found.”
“How would anyone know you helped him?”
“People know my skill set, and…” Connor rubs at his chin. “I got the idea from one of Shek’s books.”
“Which book?”
“Cage the Snake.”129
“So, you lost all of Shek’s money, then stole his book idea to cover it up?”
“From Shek’s perspective? Yes.”
“So it’s Shek who’s trying to kill us? Why didn’t you tell me this before?”
“Because I wasn’t sure. I’m still not. If money’s the motive, it could be any one of them.”
“Wait, not anyone. I doubt Oliver’s on your mailing list.”
His eyes go dark. “He unsubscribed, too.”
AMALFI MADE ME DO IT—OUTLINE
WHY?
HOW?
Confession: It’s way less fun to plan Connor’s murder when someone’s trying to kill him for real.