Page 58 of Swan Song

Blythe groans. “Nantucket better watch out.”

Back at Blond Sharon’s house, Heather is working on a case, but she takes a quick break to google the couple throwing the party. Neither Bull nor his wife seem to be active on social media, though Heather finds Bulfinch Richardson’s LinkedIn profile. He owns Sweetwater, a beverage-distribution company that’s somehow also a Hollywood production company. (There are credits for movies Heather has never heard of.) When Heather digs a little deeper, the name clicks—the SEC did a preliminary investigation into Sweetwater Distribution. The company owns a bottling plant and a plastics factory that manufactures the bottles. A whistleblower called them out for environmental infractions and for misleading greenhouse-gas-emissions disclosures. But had anything come of it? Heather is going to check when she returns to the office.

Heather sends Sharon a text: How’s the party? Heather needs to be careful. Her sister is the biggest gossip on the island and anything Heather tells Sharon about Bull’s business will be all over Nantucket quicker than you can say Vanderpump Rules.

It’s divine! Sharon texts back. Then another text comes in, a photo of Sharon with a red carnation clenched between her teeth and Romeo in an Uncle Sam hat. They’re both holding sparklers.

Bull’s company must have been cleared of any wrongdoing, Heather thinks. Just because he was investigated doesn’t mean he broke the law. The Richardsons are allowed to have fun; as the sound of the first fireworks remind Heather, it’s a free country. She won’t say anything to Sharon about the Richardsons, she decides. After all, they’re not dangerous. It’s not like they’re going to hurt anyone.

Hedonism anchors off Jetties Beach, where those of us not invited to the Richardsons’ party have gathered to watch the fireworks. We hear the music pumping: “Born in the USA,” then Katy Perry’s “Firework.” Everyone on board is whooping and dancing; we hear the distinct pop of a champagne cork.

Dr. Andy McMann and his wife, Rachel, are hunkered down in the sand eating takeout sushi and drinking a very nice white Bordeaux, but even so, Dr. Andy sees Rachel staring at Hedonism with longing. “Don’t look,” he says.

But it’s like worrying a loose tooth (a behavior Dr. Andy knows only too well). Rachel can’t help herself.

Eric and Avalon can see Hedonism from their spot on the second point of Coatue. Eric pulls clams off the grill, and Avalon drags the smoky gems through melted butter. She washes the clams down with a cold beer, then lies back on the blanket next to Eric and counts the emerging stars.

She hears music—the entire island is being treated to the Richardsons’ soundtrack—and snuggles against her boyfriend, digging her feet into the cool sand. The first firework whistles, pops, and explodes in a burst of silver and gold above them. A chorus of happy screams goes up from the boat. Avalon is so glad she’s not on it.

Coco can’t wait for this party to be over. She’s in charge of setting up the buffet—fried chicken, ribs, potato salad, coleslaw, baked beans, homemade pickles, and biscuits with honey butter—and then cleaning it all up. While she’s collecting plates and trash, she finds a sparerib sticking out from between two of the cushions of the ivory sofa in the living area. Who does something like that? She moves on to setting up the miniature pies—cherry, blueberry, peach, pecan, and banana cream—that Leslee had flown in from a place called Peggy Jean’s in Columbia, Missouri.

Coco hears the fireworks begin and thinks, Thank god, the end is near. When she goes above deck, her Leslee radar kicks in. Coco likes to know where her boss is at all times. First she checks the captain’s wheel because, as she’s learned, Leslee tries to stay as close to Lamont as possible, but Lamont is talking to his crew, Javier and Esteban. Javier is a senior at Nantucket High School, Esteban a junior; they’re both on the sailing team. Just like Lamont was, Javier told Coco when she met him. They’re listening to Lamont like he’s Captain America.

Coco spies Bull in the bow talking to Fast Eddie and Addison Wheeler. Andrea, Delilah, and Phoebe are chatting amongst themselves. Sharon and the hot guy from the Steamship are all cozied up. Where is Leslee? Coco wanders the boat until she sees her boss with Benton Coe in the stern, leaning against the back gate. Leslee has opted for a different look tonight: a pair of skinny blue jeans and a tight Budweiser T-shirt with a red bandanna woven through her braid. Bright red lipstick. Coco has to admit, Leslee looks adorable (and far more comfortable than, say, Fast Eddie’s wife, who came in a red silk gown). Benton obviously appreciates Leslee’s look because the two of them are standing hip to hip, and when Leslee reaches up to rub Benton’s neck, he lolls his head back and groans with delight.

Coco feels like she’s spying. This is none of her business, she should be working; with thirty-five people on board, someone will need a drink. Kacy is sitting by herself on the starboard side. Coco should spend a few minutes with her, let Kacy take a selfie of them the way she likes to (knowing Kacy, she’s probably making a Snapfish album that she’ll give to Coco at the end of the summer; she’s thoughtful that way)—but Coco can’t tear her eyes away from Leslee and Benton. Benton sits on the back bench and Leslee moves behind him to give him a full-on back rub. After a moment, she bends down and whispers in his ear.

Is anyone else seeing this? Coco wonders.

The Chief is restless. The Fourth is one of his least favorite days of the year. It starts with all of the antics out at Nobadeer Beach—girls going topless, guys doing flips off the dunes, idiots using empty beer bottles as projectiles, the entire Boston College offensive line getting into a scrap with half the Morgan Stanley trading floor. Every year the Chief’s officers write over a hundred tickets for underage drinking. This segues right into fifteen thousand people cramming onto Jetties Beach with their hibachi grills and open containers. Talk about a public-safety nightmare. Then there are the bozos who have bought fireworks out of state and choose to set them off from their buddy’s widow’s walk. There are noise complaints, people losing fingers, yards catching on fire.

As the Chief, Andrea, and Kacy were driving to Swain’s Wharf to meet the Richardsons’ boat, a car zoomed by, passing them illegally on Washington Street.

“Whoa, buddy,” the Chief said. It was a silver Range Rover with the license plate BEAST. The blond kid driving eyed Ed in his rearview mirror and flipped him off. You again? Ed thought.

“Pull him over, Ed,” Andrea said.

Ed wanted to, very badly, but they were in Andrea’s car, he had no lights or siren, and they were already running late. He didn’t want the boat to leave without them.

Now, Ed regrets his decision to come. What the hell is he doing on this boat? He should be on the ground with the rest of his department. The Fourth is an all-hands-on-deck occasion and here he is, aboard what is essentially a floating nightclub.

He takes a breath. He’s not drinking tonight, Coco was kind enough to bring him a seltzer with lime, and he has his phone in case of emergencies, but it’s been quiet. Will this luck hold? The Chief has been listening to Jeffrey talk about how the dry summer has helped the corn crop while their wives gab away and Addison schmoozes with Bull and Fast Eddie. The Chief pushes himself to his feet.

“Are you getting one of those pies?” Jeffrey asks.

Oh, how he’d love to, but Andrea lectured him about not letting summertime sabotage his healthy routines, so no—no pie. “Just taking a stroll,” he says. The fact is, he can’t sit still. He wants the fireworks to be over, he wants to get back to Swain’s Wharf. He wants to put out an APB for the jackass in the silver Range Rover.

Ed feels better once he’s moving and catches the breeze. He circles to the back of the boat, reminding himself to breathe; the biggest threat to his health isn’t cherry pie, it’s stress.

He should have waited until next summer to attend parties like this—but Andrea is gung ho about the Richardsons. Eric and Avalon managed to wiggle out of this; the Chief should have done the same. Everyone would have understood.

He reaches the stern of the boat, hoping to be alone to reflect, but there’s a couple on the back bench, the woman standing behind the man with her hands on his shoulders.

“Oops, sorry,” Ed says. He’s interrupting—but then the woman turns and he sees it’s Leslee Richardson with Benton Coe. She’s… what? Giving him a back rub? Benton hops to his feet, shakes out his arms, and says, “I feel much better, thanks.” Then he offers Ed a lopsided smile as if to say, This isn’t what it looks like. Ed isn’t there to judge, though he’s made uncomfortable by the memory of Leslee Richardson appearing in his dream. They were dancing together. This thought is enough to propel Ed right back to the front of the boat.

He shouldn’t be here.

During the fireworks, Coco approaches the empty seat next to Lamont. “Mind if I sit?”

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