“That was a coup,” Sharon admits. “Everyone loves Lamont.”
“Exactly,” Delilah says. “He’s going to lend them legitimacy, but the truth is, nobody knows anything about these people.”
“Where did they come from?” Sharon asks.
“We asked, but Leslee only said they’ve been bouncing around. She mentioned the Virgin Islands, Palm Beach, Aspen…”
“All the hot spots,” Sharon says. “And now they’ve landed in the most exclusive place of all.”
Delilah seems to relax a bit. “It’s not like they have to provide references to live here,” she says. “I just think it’s odd the way they’ve decided to make Nantucket their forever home without any context. I feel strangely threatened, like I’m in middle school and Leslee is the new girl who shows up and steals away my friends. Though I do like her perfume. She smells like crème brûlée.”
Now, that’s a detail! Sharon thinks as she mentally writes the scene: Delilah’s green dress reflects the jealousy she feels about this interloper; Phoebe succumbs to Leslee’s sequined promises and her vanilla-and-burned-sugar scent. How did Andrea react to Leslee Richardson? Sharon wonders. She probably found some middle ground, reserved judgment; Andrea is known for being sensible and measured.
Suddenly Delilah stands, so Sharon does as well. “I’d better get back out there before they start talking about me,” Delilah says.
Sharon laughs, though that’s probably exactly what’s happening. “Thanks for the warning about Madam Richardson.” She wants Delilah to know that she can count on her as an ally—though maybe not too much of an ally because Sharon would like to get invited to the parties at 888 Pocomo Road and on the yacht.
“I’m sure she’s not as bad as I’ve made her out to be,” Delilah says. She tugs on the sides of her dress. “She’s probably harmless.”
“Well,” Sharon says, “that would be a disappointment.”
Delilah gives Sharon a hug before she disappears out the door. Sharon is tempted to poke her head out onto the patio so she can get a look at Leslee Richardson in person, but in the end, she decides to go straight home. She needs to start writing while it’s all still fresh in her mind.
11. Thursday, August 22, 9:00 P.M.
When Nantucket’s incoming chief of police, Zara Washington, and Sergeant Kevin Dixon do their preliminary questioning of the guests who were on the Richardsons’ yacht, they find something odd: Most people know the Richardsons only slightly and some not at all.
“I was getting a pedicure next to Leslee at the RJ Miller Salon,” a woman named Marla Sofia says. “We got to chatting, she seemed very nice, and the next thing I knew she was inviting me and my husband, Tony, on tonight’s sail. But I wouldn’t say I know them.”
Sergeant Dixon talks to a couple who met the Richardsons while they were all singing at the Club Car’s piano bar. They’re tourists, here for three days.
A guest named Celadon Morse had taken the mat next to Leslee at a Forme Barre class and scored an invite. “I was thrilled!” Celadon says. “I’ve been hearing about these parties from everyone I know all summer long, but when I got here, I didn’t recognize a soul.” She pauses. “Except for that woman over there. She belongs to the Field and Oar Club. She has a funny name.”
“Thank you,” Zara says, and she approaches the woman, who is masked and giving Margaret Thatcher vibes—she has a severe bob and blue eyes that are watering from the smoke. When Zara asks her name, she lowers her mask and says, “Busy Ambrose.”
“And you live here on Nantucket, ma’am?”
“I’ve summered on Nantucket since the sixties,” Busy says. “I live on Ash Lane and I’m the commodore of the Field and Oar Club.”
Zara is impressed that the yacht club here has a female commodore. “I’m Zara Washington, the new chief of police.”
“Yes,” Busy says. “I read about your hiring in the paper.”
“Do you know the Richardsons, ma’am?”
“I do indeed,” Busy says. “I befriended them earlier this summer.”
“Do you know the missing woman?”
“Her name is Coco,” Busy says. “She works for the Richardsons.”
“Do you remember seeing Ms. Coyle on the boat?” Zara asks.
“Yes, she was serving drinks and passing hors d’oeuvres.”
“What was she wearing?”
“Her uniform—a pink polo shirt and white shorts.”
“At what point did you last see Ms. Coyle?” Zara asks.
“After Bull and Leslee renewed their vows, Coco handed out flutes of champagne for a toast.”
“Wait a second,” Zara says. “The Richardsons renewed their vows on the sail?”
“They did,” Busy says. “It was a surprise.”
“So you saw Ms. Coyle handing out the champagne,” Zara says. “What time was that?”
“Maybe seven thirty?” Busy says. “The sun was just setting. We were out by Eel Point, getting ready to turn around, which was a good thing because a minute or two later, Bull got a call that their house was on fire.”
Zara needs to parse this. “So Coco was still on the boat when you all learned the house was on fire?”
“She was on the boat while we were doing the champagne toast,” Busy says. “After the toast, Lamont tacked and we were heading back, and right around that time, we learned about the fire. I can’t say for sure if Coco was still on the boat then. Everyone was agitated; people had their phones out. I don’t remember seeing Coco or not seeing her. I didn’t see anyone go overboard. None of us saw that, obviously, or we would have done something.”
“You said Bull Richardson got a call about the fire. Is that how you learned about it?”
“Yes,” Busy says. “Then an instant later, I got an alert on my phone from the Nantucket Current. The Current reported that a house in Pocomo was ablaze and the Nantucket Fire Department was on the scene.”
