“Oh, Brooks. Charlotte Brooks.”
“How did you know each other? You and the bride?”
“Charlotte and I have been friends since high school. I guess, what? Ten years or so? I was her maid of honor.”
“As the maid of honor,” Pierre said, “I can assume you and Ms. Brooks are best of friends?”
“She’s a friend,” Grace said. “Yes, of course. A dear friend.”
“Your closest friend?”
Grace hesitated. “She is a close friend, yes.”
“Why are your parents and brother traveling with you?”
“Our parents are friends,” Grace said. “Mine and Charlotte’s. My parents were invited to the wedding.”
“Where were you last night, Ms. Sebold?”
“Here at the resort.”
“Where, exactly? Tell me your day.”
Grace wetted her lips and ran a finger under her right eye to capture the last of her tears. “We were at the pool in the afternoon.”
“Again, Ms. Sebold. Who iswe?”
“All of us. Julian and me, and all our friends. Then I had a late lunch with my parents and brother. Maybe three o’clock. After that, I went to my cottage to shower.”
“Did Mr. Crist join you for lunch?”
“No. He had something planned for last night. So he asked to skip lunch with my parents to get ready for it.”
“What was he planning, Ms. Sebold?”
“I’m not sure. Dinner, I think. He asked me to meet him up on the Piton.”
Inspector Pierre straightened in his chair.
“On Gros Piton?”
“Yes.”
“Did you meet him?”
Grace shook her head. “No.”
“Mr. Crist asked you to meet him, and you saidno?”
Grace shook her head again. “No, I planned to meet him, but . . . Marshall became ill and I had to stay with him.”
“Who is Marshall?”
“My younger brother.”
“How much younger?”
“Just a year. He’s twenty-five.”
