Chapter 26. I Thought There Were Only Supposed to Be Three Bodies?
It’s an hour later and we’re all gathered back in the library, and Elizabeth’s body is being removed from the scene by the tech team, who I’m sure are working more overtime than they’ve ever seen.
Officer Rolle has made a preliminary determination that Elizabeth is the latest victim of the definite serial killer that’s still on the loose.
Since there wasn’t a chair under her body for her to have hanged herself off of or any note to find, not to mention all the other dead bodies, this seems like an obvious conclusion.
Besides, why would Elizabeth Ben kill herself in the middle of a murder investigation?
I have no idea.
It should be painfully obvious right now that I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT’S GOING ON!
“And then there were none,” Harper says. “The reality version.”
“Not funny. And there’s only supposed to be three bodies.”
“Who says?”
I do, I want to say, pouting.
Yeah, I’m pouting at a time like this. It’s a coping mechanism.
“Maybe Harper’s right. Elizabeth was hanged with a rope,” I say slowly. “It fits the pattern of the small groups. Gun, poison, rope…”
“But there were two poisonings,” Oliver says. “Guy and Inspector Tucci.”
“Tucci should’ve been killed with a heavy object or a knife,” I say. “To keep the pattern intact. And there should be five bodies…”
“Vicki.”
“I hope not.”
“Marco had a knife,” Oliver reminds me. “It was never used.”
“But Marco is in custody. Marta, too.”
“They must be working with someone else.”
“Someone else who knew about the details in two unpublished books?”
“Maybe the note is just a coincidence?” Oliver says.
“There are no coincidences,” Harper says. “Right, Eleanor?”
“Never.” I look at Connor. “Was anyone else here on the organizing committee?”
“No,” he says, frowning. “Just me and Vicki.”
“So that means…” Harper says.
“It must be Vicki,” Oliver says at the same time she does.
“No,” I say.
“I don’t want to believe it either. But the medical examiner said Elizabeth died in the last couple of hours. So it’s not anyone who was in the library with us…”
I know he’s right, but I don’t want to believe it.
Maybe it’s someone we haven’t even considered yet.
No, I’m not doing that to you; that’s not fair.
It’s Vicki. But Vicki’s missing.
Oh, shit. Oh, no. And Then There Were None. It’s not a joke. It’s the solution.
“And Then There Were None,” I say.
“Didn’t I just say that?” Harper says.
“I know, I meant … maybe that’s the plot.”
“What part of it?”
“The murderer stages his death in that book, right?80 So people stop looking at him as a suspect? He takes something to slow his breathing so they think he’s dead.”
“Is that even possible?” Connor asks.
“Oliver?” I say.
He nods slowly. “There are medications that can slow your heart and breathing enough that a cursory examination could lead you to conclude that someone is dead.”
“But what does that have to do with this?” Sandrine asks. “Vicki is missing, not dead.”
“It’s not a literal interpretation,” I say. “She’s put her own twist on it to keep it from being obvious because Vicki’s smart. And it fits the facts. She’s read all of my books. She’s on the organizing committee. She was here before anyone died. She could be behind everything.”
“So she’s in hiding?” Harper says. “That’s what you mean?”
“She went into hiding so we’d think she was dead.”
“When?”
“After she killed Tucci.”
“But then who took Tucci’s body?” Oliver says. “And why?”
“There must’ve been some clue she left on it. Something that would give it away that it was her.”
Sandrine shakes her head in disbelief. “What did you do to her?”
“Nothing! We’re friends.”
“She’s been having a hard time,” Oliver says. “Maybe she snapped.”
“And put together a massive plot to kill a bunch of people as a result?” Harper asks. “Why? What would that accomplish?”
“That’s a good question.”
What’s the connective tissue between Brian, Guy, Inspector Tucci, and Elizabeth?
Why are there one too many bodies? Or one too few, if the small group theory is right?
Three bodies or five. Either way, we’re one body off.
Three makes sense. Some combination of Guy and the Giuseppes could’ve killed Brian and Inspector Tucci and Guy. Even if they’re denying it. But while Vicki could’ve killed all four of them theoretically, why would she? Why would she set up this whole thing? She wasn’t in danger from the Giuseppes.
There’s always one too many things going on in this case, and I can’t put my finger on what it is. I only know Vicki can’t be the answer. There’s just no way. So, if I take Vicki out of the equation, who does that leave?
Oliver.
Connor.
Sandrine.
Stefano.
Harper.
Me.
But Oliver, Connor, Harper, and I arrived after Brian died. So unless we were in a conspiracy with someone here, then that doesn’t work.
And it’s not me, in case you were wondering. I haven’t turned to murder.
Not yet.
But here are three things I know:
We need to figure this out before anyone else dies.
There is a solution to everything.
I’m not living inside the plot of an Agatha Christie novel—
Then the door bursts open, and Inspector Tucci walks in, very much alive. “I have just heard the awful news.”
Scratch that.
Okay, remember back there when I said I wasn’t going to trick you with the ending? I stand by that. I didn’t trick you.
Inspector Tucci tricked me.
And Officer Rolle, who’s looking very displeased. “There had better be an explanation for this, and I will be cautioning you.”
“I am not a suspect, I assure you,” Inspector Tucci says, his fedora slightly askew.
“He did it?” Harper says. “Why?”
“It makes a certain sense,” Oliver says. “The Giuseppes have been eluding him his entire career. And Guy.”
“He did tell me that Guy was connected to the Mafia,” I say.
“Perhaps he didn’t see any other way out,” Sandrine says.
“No, no, scuzi, what are you saying? You think I am responsible for all of this? I am one of the victims.”
“But you aren’t,” I point out. “You’re alive.”
“That is only because I did some very quick thinking.” He points to the side of his head. “I am very good at, how do you say, seeing patterns.”
“Okay.”
“Do you want to explain it to us?” Oliver says.
“I would be delighted.” He rubs his hands together. “It is Marta and her brother Marco who are responsible for everything!”
“You don’t say,” Connor says. “I’ve been saying this the whole time.”
“I do say. They were working with Mr. Charles. It was their last attempt to kill you”—he points to me—“and you”—he points to Connor.
“Only it wasn’t,” I say.
“You are mistaken. I know this for a fact.”
“How?”
He cocks his head to the side. “Because I heard them. Conspiring in the corridor in voices that were too loud for the conversation they were having.”
“So you didn’t figure anything out, you just eavesdropped?”
“You do not need to speak to me in this tone.”
“I can use whatever tone I want,” I say. “Especially since you faked your death.”
“It was a necessary subterfuge. They were planning their escape. Waiting for the weather to turn.”
“And the purpose of pretending to be dead was?”
“Avoiding death myself, of course. I was going to be their next victim. And it allowed me to move about the resort unobserved.”
“How?”
“I procured a staff uniform. No one ever pays any attention to the staff.”
Didn’t I say that?
I keep getting plagiarized. I don’t like it.
“So you’ve just been wandering around the resort?”
“No, no. I have been on the island.”
“The island?”
“The one the property owns. There is a ferry?” He waves his hand dismissively in the direction of the ocean.
Oh. That island. The one I meant to visit at some point.
“You didn’t search the island?” Oliver says to Officer Rolle.
“We most certainly did.”
“Not well enough,” Connor says.
“It was Agatha all along,” Harper says.
Inspector Tucci’s eyes are darting around the room. “I do not follow.”
“It’s from a famous book by Agatha Christie,” I say. “Faking your death.”
“Yes, I have seen this book.”
“You mean read it,” Sandrine says with a smirk.
“It was a play, no?”
“Yes,” I say. “But first a book. That’s where you got the idea from?”
“I thought of it on my own.”
“Sure you did. It was all part of your plot to kill us and blame them.”
“I am not a killer.”
“It’s a good cover,” Connor says. “Kill Brian, your inside man. Kill Guy as a decoy. Kill yourself to divert suspicion and, as you say, move about the resort unseen, and then you can take your revenge on me and Eleanor.”
“Revenge? I am an officer of the law.”
“Are you, though?” I say. “How have you not been fired? You were, weren’t you?”
Inspector Tucci turns red in the face. “I was not fired. I was sent to a different posting for personal reasons, as I have already explained.”
“You were already mad when we came to Italy six months ago. And then several people got killed on your watch, and the Giuseppes were operating right under your nose. You’re telling me there were no professional consequences to that? Please.” Connor makes a dismissive sound.
“I did not suffer from your incompetence a second time.”
“It’ll only take one phone call to check,” Oliver says.
“You can place all the phone calls you like. It will not change the facts.”
“You’re not telling us everything,” I say. “Of that, I’m sure.”
Oliver touches my elbow. “Why did you say that, El?”
“He just happened to overhear Marco and Marta conspiring? Didn’t we just say there are no coincidences?”
“Good point. Out with it, Tucci. What are you holding back?”
He glances at Officer Rolle, probably trying to calculate just how much trouble he’s in.
“If I am going to be subject to accusations, when all I have done since I arrived here was try to solve what has been happening…”
I think back to our first conversation on the beach when he scared me out of my skin. He could’ve killed me then, if that was his purpose in coming. But instead, he was investigating.