Pilot Episode
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 the arrangements.
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?”
Grace shook her head. “He invited me to watch the sunset. Same thing I told you two days ago.”
“But you did not go? Your younger brother fell ill?”
“That’s right.”
“How long had you and Mr. Crist been dating?”
“A year and a half.”
“So you would categorize your relationship as serious?”
Grace struggled again with the Caribbean inflection and the blending of words and oddly placed syllabic emphasis.
“Yes,” she said.
“Were you in love?”
Grace’s eyes teared over. “Is it really necessary to ask these questions?”
“I’m afraid it is, Ms. Sebold.”
Grace wiped her lower lid with the back of her finger. “Yes, we were in love.”
“Was Mr. Crist in love with anyone else, besides yourself ?”
“What?” Grace asked with a confused look.
“Was there anyone else that Mr. Crist also loved?”
Grace shook her head. “No.”
“No?” Pierre asked while keeping his eyes focused on her.
Pierre’s assistant slid papers across the table until they rested in front of Grace.
“This is a list of calls made from Mr. Crist’s room phone. Three calls were made to New York. The phone number is listed to Ms. Allison Harbor, who we’ve learned was a friend of Mr. Crist.”
Grace swallowed hard. “She’s his ex-girlfriend.”
“Is that so? When I spoke with her, she suggested their relationship was still active.”
“They go to school together, so I’m sure they still see each other on campus.”
“Isn’t it true that they were still intimate, Ms. Sebold, and not merely acquaintances, as you suggest?”
“No. That’s not true.”
“And you were not concerned about this?”
“No.”
“But isn’t it true that you also called Allison Harbor during your stay at the resort? Why make such a call if there is no concern?”
Grace looked down at the list of phone calls in front of her. She did not answer.
“So let me organize my thoughts,” Pierre continued. “Mr. Crist, who was in love with you and only you, climbed up Gros Piton, spread a blanket out over a bluff, opened a bottle of champagne, poured two flutes, but never told you about this rendezvous?”
Grace shook her head again. “No, he did tell me. Not about a . . . rendezvous. He just asked me to meet him on the bluff. I didn’t go, though.”
Pierre’s voice was rising. “But you and Mr. Crist had an argument that day, is that correct?”
Grace shook her head and opened her palms. “Yes.”
“You claim this argument was about Daniel Greaves, your friend’s new husband.”
“Yes, it was.”
“Perhaps Mr. Crist found out about your relationship with the groom?”
Grace squinted her eyes at the detective. “There was no relationship.”
“Is it not true that you and Mr. Greaves once dated?”
Grace took a deep breath. “Years ago. Yes.”
“Perhaps you still had feelings for him.”
“No, I did not.”
“Perhaps being in such a romantic setting brought those feelings back to you? Perhaps you started to doubt your relationship with Mr. Crist.”
Grace did not answer.
“No?”
“No,” Grace said.
Inspector Pierre consulted his notepad. “A few nights ago, you and Charlotte Brooks also engaged in an argument at the Bayside Bar. Other guests of the resort witnessed this argument. Is this not true?”
Grace again remained silent.
“Without your input, Ms. Sebold, I can only assume your argument with the bride, understanding now your romantic history, had to do with your relationship with Daniel Greaves. Am I correct, Ms. Sebold?”
“Yes. But it was just a misunderstanding.”
“A misunderstanding? Surveillance video of the resort shows Mr. Greaves visiting your cottage the day before his wedding. Are you certain you want to go on the record as denying a relationship between you and Daniel Greaves?”
“We are friends. That’s all.”
“You can see my confusion, though, Ms. Sebold. And how one might look at all of this and assume you were balancing many men at one time?”
“Many men? What are you saying?”
“And that, perhaps, after discovering the phone calls made between Julian and his lover in New York, you were angry and jealous. Perhaps, you were not thinking clearly? Perhaps, you did something out of rage?”
Grace shook her head. “No.”
“Were you on Gros Piton on Wednesday evening, Ms. Sebold?”
Grace looked back and forth at the recording device and the scribbling man, confused by the quick change in topics.
“Ms. Sebold! Were you on Gros Piton on Wed—”
“No.”
“No?” Pierre asked, standing from his seat and hovering over her. “Then can you explain why your shoeprint was found there?”
Grace shook her head, then put her palms to her temples, as if trying to corral an impending migraine.
“No, I suppose that is unexplainable,” Pierre said. “Can you tell me why you so thoroughly bleached your room?”
Pierre waited.
“No? Can you explain why Mr. Crist’s blood was found in the drain of your sink?” Pierre waited. “No? You have no answers to any of this?”
“I’d like to speak to an attorney,” Grace said.
Pierre continued to hover. After his outburst, the only noise in the room came from the hum of the air conditioner. The silence was broken when the door swung open.
“Sir,” an officer said as he poked his head into the room. “We need you down on the beach. We’ve found something.”