“Yes,” Grace said.
“You can understand how someone might analyze your visitor log and get the impression that you and Daniel were more than friends?”
“If you believe Pierre, and are looking for something nefarious. Otherwise, to me, it looks like one friend visiting another.”
“Okay,” Sidney said. “But Daniel has visited you eighteen times over the years. Charlotte? Zero.”
Grace stared at Sidney. She offered no reply.
“Why would Daniel make such an effort to keep in touch with you, but his wife—a friend who asked you to be her maid of honor—hasn’t seen you in more than a decade?”
“I guess you’d have to ask Charlotte that question.” Grace shook her head and ran a hand through the back of her hair. “This is not how I imagined our conversation would go.”
“I’m just struggling with some of your history,” Sidney said, “because I’m learning things that you didn’t mention in your letters.”
The Girl of Sugar Beach
“Pilot” Episode
*Based on the interview with Claude Pierre
Through the winding roads of St. Lucia, Pierre drove back to Sugar Beach Resort. The journey provided time to think. A complicated issue had fallen into his lap: an American killing another American on his island. It would not be long, once he made his findings public and his accusations apparent, that the Sebold girl would seek help from the American embassy. Authorities from the United States would surely want to become involved and updated. Their Federal Bureau of Investigation would offer their assistance. Pierre knew he had to act quickly, and keep his cards close until it was time to show his hand. The expedited search warrant for the American’s room had surely put her on notice. Already he’d caught her in more than one lie—the cause of her argument with Julian had been the first, and now the shoeprint, which put her on the bluff despite her denial of this fact. And the discovery of the bleach cleanup and Mr. Crist’s blood in her room would be paramount during the immediate chaos after her arrest. Indeed he’d need to act swiftly when the time came, but calmly until then.
The motorcade of four police vehicles pulled to the front entrance of the resort. Pierre stood from the backseat of the lead car and walked with his crew into the welcome atrium. The general manager hurried from behind the front desk to greet him.
“Inspector, good morning.”
“I’m going to need your office again,” Pierre said. “For another round of interviews. With my crew, I’d like you to contact the guests and organize the times.”
A police officer handed the GM a list of names.
“Very well, sir. Anything we can do. I must ask, though, some of our guests are quite upset that the beach is still under survey. It is the main attraction of the resort and it is still roped off.”
“I’m afraid the needs of sunbathers have been overshadowed by the dead man found on the shores of your resort. If any guest has an issue, please add their names to the interview list and I’d be happy to speak with them. As far as the yellow tape securing the beach, it will remain in place for the foreseeable future.”
Grace Sebold sat once more in the small office.
It was two-on-one again, with Grace sitting across from Pierre and the man who scribbled in his notebook. Pierre pressed the recorder that sat in the middle of the table.
“My parents told me to ask for an attorney,” Grace said.
“Are you asking for one, Ms. Sebold?”
“Am I in trouble?”
“You would be best equipped to answer that question,” Pierre said. “Your boyfriend was found dead just over forty-eight hours ago. We are trying to figure out who killed him. If you would like to go to Castries for formal questioning, that can be arranged. We could offer local counsel once you are settled there. However, it will take some time to organize such an event, and we’d have to hold you in a jail cell while we made thearrangements. It would likely be late tomorrow or perhaps the following day before we could secure counsel for you. There is, of course, no problem with this method, but I’d just assume we keep things moving as quickly as possible and avoid the delay.”
Grace shook her head. “Fine. What do you want to know?”
“There is evidence to suggest that Mr. Crist was settled up on the bluff on Gros Piton for some time. Perhaps an hour or so. We suspect he was waiting for someone. I’d like to ask you again, did you see Mr. Crist on Wednesday night?”
“I saw Julian on Wednesday, during the day. We all hung out at the pool. But not Wednesday night. I thought we went through this the other day.”
“You were on vacation together, Ms. Sebold. Was it common for Mr. Crist to spend an evening by himself, apart from the woman he was traveling with?”
Grace stared at the inspector. “I . . . No, it was unusual.”
“Did he tell you where he was going? Did he tell you why he would hike up Gros Piton at evening time?”
