Uxley chooses a local attorney, Valerie Gluckstern. The Chief knows Val well, and while she’s not his favorite lawyer on this island, neither is she his least favorite. She started out as a trust and estate attorney and switched to criminal defense six or seven years ago, once there were enough wealthy and connected lawbreakers to keep her in business. Val is willing to relax certain rules because they live thirty miles out to sea and big-city procedure doesn’t always apply.
For example, instead of wearing a suit and heels, Val shows up at the station wearing a beach cover-up, a straw hat, and flip-flops.
“I came right from the beach,” Val says, and in fact she has sand breading the backs of her legs. “My brother is here with his four kids and his pregnant wife. I wasn’t exactly unhappy to be called away.” She cocks an eyebrow at the Chief. “Do you ever have houseguests, Ed?”
“Not if I can help it,” he says.
“Wise man,” Val says. She looks around. “Where’s the Greek? I thought he was investigating this case.”
That explains Val’s prompt arrival more than the houseguests, the Chief thinks. Every woman on this island will jump through hoops of white fire for the Greek.
“He’s interviewing a witness at the hospital,” the Chief says.
Val nods. “Let me talk to my client.”
“He tried to run,” the Chief says. “It doesn’t look good, Val. You should let him know that.”
“Let me talk to my client,” Val says again.
While Val is in with Shooter, Ed checks his phone. He sees a text from Nick that says, We need to find a wedding guest named Featherleigh Dale, and the Chief curses under his breath. Here he’s liking Shooter Uxley for this and now there’s a new person of interest? The Chief calls the Winbury house to speak to Greer.
“We’re looking for someone named Featherleigh Dale,” he says.
“Yes,” Greer says. She sounds unsurprised.
“Do you have any idea where we might find her?” he asks.
“She’s staying at an inn,” Greer says. “Let me check which one. I have it written down.” A moment later she comes back to the phone. “The Sand Dollar Guest House, on Water Street.”
“Thank you.” The Chief hangs up and dispatches one of his patrolmen to the Sand Dollar to bring this Featherleigh Dale in for questioning.
Nick calls on his way from the hospital to the compound. “Talked to the bride,” he says. “She was a gold mine.”
“What did she give you?” the Chief asks.
“Our maid of honor wasn’t exactly honorable,” Nick says. “She was sleeping with the groom’s father, Tag Winbury.”
The Chief closes his eyes. He’s so hungry, he’s seeing stars—then he remembers that Andrea packed him a lunch: turkey BLT, two ripe, cold plums, a thermos of chilled cucumber-coconut soup. He loves his wife. As soon as he gets off with Nick, he’ll eat.
“I talked to Linda Ferretti, the ME,” the Chief says. “Victim was seven weeks pregnant.”
Nick sucks in his breath and the Chief feels a renewed sense of purpose. This woman’s death was no accident. They have a real situation on their hands.
“She was pregnant with Winbury’s kid,” Nick says. “I wonder who knew. Celeste didn’t tell me that. I… I don’t think she knew. I wonder if Greer Garrison knew.
“I dispatched Luklo to go pick up Ms. Dale at her inn,” the Chief says. “How is she involved?”
“She was sitting under the tent late last night with Merritt, Tag, and Thomas, the groom’s brother. The brother, Thomas, went up to bed, leaving Merritt, Tag Winbury, and Featherleigh Dale. She should have something to tell us.”
“Yes, we need the Dale woman,” the Chief says. “Now that we know what we know. So why am I talking to Shooter Uxley? Why did he run? Where is he in all of this? Why did he, of all people, lawyer up?”
“I guess we’ll find out,” Nick says. “Who’s his attorney?”
“Valerie Gluckstern.”
“I like Val,” Nick says. “And she likes me.”
“Let’s hope that works in our favor and we can get the kid to talk,” the Chief says. “After I’m finished with Uxley, I’ll talk to the father.”
“I’ll talk to this Dale woman,” Nick says. “Once we find her. And, hey, if you need help swaying Val Gluckstern, let me know.”
“Thanks, Prince Charming,” the Chief says.
Saturday, August 12–Monday, August 21, 2017
CELESTE
She takes a week’s vacation from the zoo in August, coordinating with Benji’s vacation, and the two of them go to Nantucket.
Merritt says, “You do know how lucky you are, right? Having a rich boyfriend with a huge waterfront home on Nantucket?”
“Right,” Celeste says uneasily. She doesn’t want anyone—even Merritt—to think she is after Benji for his money. The money makes things nicer and easier. They can go to dinner whenever and wherever they want, they go to concerts and sit in the front row, Benji always treats her to taxis and sends her bouquets of beautiful, exotic flowers, and occasionally she will come home to find he has delivered a box of Pierre Hermé macarons to her doorstep (she had never tasted a macaron before meeting Benji; now, they’re one more expensive habit that she’s developed). Celeste enjoys these aspects of their relationship—she would be a liar if she denied it—but her favorite things about Benji are that he’s kind, thoughtful, solid, steady, and even-keeled.
Despite all this, she had been thinking, right before plans for the vacation were made, of breaking up with him. She likes him but she has been consistently misrepresenting her feelings because she does not love him.
She loves Shooter Uxley.
