"I can assure you, gentlemen, I have done nothing wrong. I have violated no professional ethics. My relationship with Whitney was entirely professional."
"As you mentioned, she wasn't your patient. Diesel is."
He gave me an annoyed look. "If you’ve got any more questions, get in touch with my attorney." Carlson moved toward the door and held it open for us.
We walked back down the hallway and stepped into the waiting area. Chauncey’s owner smiled at Jack, and he smiled back, possibilities in the air. The ginormous rock on her finger cautioned against that idea. That was a line JD wouldn’t cross.
As soon as we stepped into the outside hallway, Jack muttered, "He was definitely banging her.”
“Nothing illegal about that,” I said.
“The Florida Board of Veterinary Medicine might take a disapproving view.”
“They might not like his prescribing habits either. But it seems he’s managed to cover his ass.”
“Walking a fine line,” JD said.
We left the professional building, returned to theAvventura, then met the guys at the practice studio. Wild Fury jammed for an hour, then we hit happy hour at Volcanic. Somehow, happy hour lasted until 2:00 AM. There was a small gathering on the boat afterward.
A good time was had by all.
Brenda called bright and early the next morning.
I grabbed the phone from the nightstand, swiped the screen, and scratched out, “What have you got?”
“Tox report came back. Pretty much as expected. Xanax, Oxy, alcohol, cocaine, an anti-histamine, and an anti-depressant. The combination resulted in central nervous system depression. I see nothing to indicate foul play, other than the irresponsible prescribing habits of her veterinarian.”
"Thanks. Good to know.”
I ended the call, pulled myself out of bed, and made my way down to the galley to fix breakfast. I flicked on the TV and watched the morning news. “Now to our very own Erin West with the latest weather,” the news desk anchor said. “She has some surprising developments.”
The camera cut to a shot of the gorgeous brunette standing in front of a map of Florida. Nobody watched for Erin’s accuracy. They watched for that tight little red dress she wore. "We may be in for some unseasonably cool weather. Conditions are forming for a cold snap. It may just be time to break out a winter coat.” She smiled. “We could see it get as low as 50 degrees soon. I can confidently say there will be no white Christmas in the Keys this year, but we might have some unseasonably cool temperatures to put us in the Christmas spirit. I’ll be keeping a watch on this Arctic high-pressure zone, so be sure to stay tuned.” Erin finished with a smile, and the camera cut back to the desk anchor.
“I think a little cold weather might be nice,” the anchor said. “Thanks, Erin. In other news…”
Applewood bacon sizzled in the pan. I scrambled eggs, made hash browns, and made avocado toast. The smell of fresh coffee swirled.
Jack dragged himself out of bed with tousled hair and bleary eyes to join me for breakfast. We chowed on the sky deck, taking in the warm amber rays. If the forecast was right, this wouldn’t last long.
My phone buzzed with a call from the sheriff. “Get your asses in gear. We’ve got another dead body.”
11
The sheriff’s aluminum patrol boat crashed through the swells. The briny air swirled, and the twin outboards rumbled, as we carved through the teal water. The morning sun danced on the surface.
It took about 35 minutes to get out to Driftwood Key. The 32-foot Solstice LX sailboat was anchored offshore. A 25-foot center console was tied up at the stern.
A distraught woman sat in the cockpit of the sailboat, waiting for us to arrive. Her short brown hair had a stylish cut and hung in her eyes. Her tank top and jean shorts hugged her petite form. She looked late 20s with fair skin, dotted with freckles.
We pulled alongside and boarded the boat, along with Brenda and her crew. Dietrich and the forensic investigators joined. The boat got crowded quickly.
The distraught woman tried her best to hold back the tears. But that was a losing battle. Her big blue eyes filled, and the droplets spilled over, streaming down her cheeks. She wiped them awayas best she could. With a gesture below deck, she said, "I just found him like that.”
The sheriff climbed down the companionway, followed by Brenda. We brought up the rear while the others waited in the cockpit.
It was a nice, older boat with a galley to port and a settee to starboard.
In the main salon, a man lay slumped on the vinyl cushions of the settee. A needle, a spoon, a lighter, and all the accessories needed to shoot heroin lay nearby. His brown eyes were fixed, staring into space. The color had drained from his skin. Rigor had set in. His body was stiff.
