Bull nods sadly. “Total strangers.”

The Chief and Zara step away, and the Chief checks his phone: There’s a text from Lucy Shields. No one matching Ms. Coyle’s description was on the last ferry.

Shoot, Ed thinks. It would have looked very bad for Coco if she’d left the island, but at least they’d know she was alive. She has now been missing for over two hours. “Coco and Leslee had issues,” he says, “because of either Bull or Lamont.”

“Bull has an alibi,” Zara says. “He was on the bow all evening, and Lamont was sailing the boat. That leaves Leslee.”

“Or Coco set the fire, then later jumped off the boat to escape,” the Chief says. “Or did Leslee hear about the fire, assume Coco set it, and push her off the boat in anger?”

“Coco had motive to set the fire,” Zara says. “Leslee was competition for Lamont and maybe Bull. Bull turned down her screenplay.”

“So she either jumped or was pushed,” the Chief says.

“Or it was an accident,” Zara says. “She fell against the back gate, which is unreliable, at best, and everyone was too agitated by news of the fire to notice.”

“We have to find her,” he says, though of course what he means is they have to find her alive.

Zara cocks her head. “Do you hear that?”

She and the Chief stride past the ashes of the fire and reach the Richardsons’ front lawn just in time to see Lamont speeding away in the Richardsons’ motorboat. “Damn it,” the Chief says. “There’s already a search underway. I’m sure the last thing Lucy wants is a bunch of Lone Rangers out on the water.”

One Lone Ranger can’t hurt, Zara thinks. “He loves her,” she says.

29. The Kitchen II

The Monday after the Richardsons’ day-drinking party, the sky clears and the sun shines bright and hot. The roses of Sharon bloom and Sea View Farm harvests the first of their field tomatoes. It’s the second week of August—where has the summer gone?—and Nantucket reaches its peak. Every hotel room is filled; each ferry is standing room only; it’s impossible to get a reservation at Languedoc or Proprietors. The Oystercatcher is “fully committed” by six p.m., and don’t get us started about the line at the Chicken Box.

It’s on Monday that we see Zoe Alistair’s Instagram photos of the spring roll tower and the shrimp burgers. We hear chatter about champagne showers and dancing in the rain.

“Leslee Richardson has done it again,” Busy Ambrose announces to her lady friends at the Field and Oar Club. “That woman knows how to have fun. The club needs someone like her.” Busy’s lady friends nod and cluck. They wouldn’t dare cross Busy in public—she’s the commodore—though frankly the stories about Busy’s own escapades at these parties are troubling. When Busy approaches Talbot Sweeney about having a lunch for Leslee Richardson, he flat-out refuses.

“I have no interest in Leslee Richardson’s fribble,” he says. “This club has standards of gentility and decorum. Not all of us are interested in joining the mosh pit, Busy.”

Talbot’s dismissal of Leslee Richardson could be a problem, Busy has to admit. But there are ways to work around him.

Coco is upstairs in her apartment when she hears Leslee scream. What fresh hell? she thinks. Leslee and Bull spent the day after the party in their suite eating fried rice in bed while Coco un-bedazzled the party room. She had to call in not only the regular house cleaners but upholstery and carpet cleaners as well. There was a sticky champagne residue all over the floor and furniture; Coco collected twenty-nine empty bottles of Laurent-Perrier.

Coco dutifully descends to see what Leslee is kerking about. The second Coco steps into the garage, she gags at the smell: a combination of rancid soy sauce and rotting fish.

“It was Delilah!” Leslee says. “She impaled the cupcakes with her dirty hair chopsticks, and now this.”

Coco holds her nose and silently congratulates Delilah on a job well done, even though she is the person who has to clean up the mess. She wonders if Delilah was responsible for leaving the BBQ spareribs all over the boat on the Fourth of July and for murdering Leslee’s orchid after the Pink and White Party.

“I’m taking Baby to pickleball,” Leslee says.

“You’re still going to pickleball?” Coco says.

“Hell yes,” Leslee says.

Delilah prays that Leslee won’t show up at the courts (oh, how Delilah would love to propose they find a new fourth!), but just as they’re about to give up and go home, Leslee comes screeching into the parking lot in Coco’s Land Rover.

Shit, Delilah thinks.

She hasn’t told Andrea about Leslee reneging on her donation and she certainly hasn’t told her or Phoebe about dumping the lobster noodles, which felt cathartic at the time but now seems childish.

Delilah steels herself for an accusation: It was you or Sharon, it had to be, I know you two left early. Benton Coe also left early; could Delilah get away with throwing him under the bus?

She’s a terrible person. She’ll confess and blame it on the lemongrass margaritas.

But Leslee is all smiles. “Hey, girls! Sorry I’m late—I had to do a little do-si-do with the vehicles. Phoebe, are you ready?”

Do-si-do with the vehicles? Delilah thinks. Maybe Leslee doesn’t realize it was Delilah—but Delilah knows, and the guilt weighs her down. She plays like she has gum stuck to the bottom of her shoes. However, Andrea, for the first time all summer, plays like a beast. She scores three consecutive points.

Wow, Delilah thinks. Maybe Andrea has always been this good and Delilah is a ball hog.

The score is close, though Leslee and Phoebe maintain the lead—9–8, 9–9, and finally 10–9, match point. Leslee serves, Delilah returns, Phoebe volleys, and Andrea runs forward and hits a ball that passes right between Leslee and Phoebe.

Leslee raises her hands above her head. “Woo-hoo!” she says. “Good game!”

“What?” Andrea says. “That ball was in. It’s our serve.”

“Oops, no, sorry,” Leslee says. “Your toe was over the line. You volleyed from the kitchen.”

Delilah can’t help herself; she brays like a donkey: “You’re kidding, right? Her toe was over the line? First of all, no, it wasn’t. Second, you have been volleying from the kitchen all summer long and we let it slide. Even though it’s cheating.”

Leslee goes to the sideline and zips up her racket. “I know it was you who vandalized my car, Delilah.”

There’s a second of stunned silence. The sun scorches Delilah’s bare shoulders.

“What?” Phoebe says. “What are you talking about?”

Leslee removes her visor and fluffs her perfectly curled hair. “Why don’t you ask Delilah.”

“You promised the food pantry a hundred and seventy-five thousand dollars,” Delilah says. “Then you backed out.”

“I don’t remember signing a contract.”

“You made a pledge,” Delilah says. “You told Corwin you’d stop by with a check. Of course, that was after you flirted with him.”

Leslee shrugs. “Whatever. He was cute.”

“It was offensive,” Delilah says, though she isn’t sure she should be speaking for Corwin. He might have been flattered. “But not as offensive as reneging on your donation.”

“You don’t like me,” Leslee says. “You’ve never liked me. You asked me to meet you at the food pantry because you wanted my money. You were using me, Delilah. I recognized that right away. I’ve met people like you before, people who are threatened by me because I’m friendly and outgoing and I entertain with pizzazz.”

Delilah concedes this point: Leslee does entertain with pizzazz. “I’m not threatened by you,” she says—though of course she is.

“I’ll send you the bill for detailing my car,” Leslee says. With that, she strolls off the court, climbs into the Land Rover, and drives off.