Darrell's eyes rounded. He looked down at his feet. "I had a damn nosebleed. Just started gushing for no reason."
I figured there was a reason. Maybe he and Lexi had been doing a lot of nose candy. Maybe he had shot Cameron. It didn't particularly look like blood spatter from a gunshot, but it had piqued my curiosity.
"I need the shoe," I said.
Darrell's face wrinkled at me. "You can't take my shoe."
"Exigent circumstances. Now, I can get a warrant, or you can just hand it over to me. Either way, I’m gonna get the shoe and analyze that blood spatter.”
Darrell huffed, pulled off the shoe, and handed it to me. "Here. You can stick that right up your ass."
I smiled. "I got a better use for it. Putting your ass back in jail."
Darrell shook his head. "Oh, no! Ain't no way I'm going back there. You can bet your life on that.”
"You got a cell phone, Darrell?" I asked.
He shook his head. “Ain’t nobody I want to talk to. Except maybe Lexi." He looked at her and winked.
She smiled back.
"Do you know Dr. Miriam Renick?"
His brow wrinkled. "No. Can't say that I do."
"She's dead, too."
"Damn shame. But that sounds like ayouproblem. Not ameproblem. I'm alive, and I plan to stay that way."
We finished our search, but didn't turn up a weapon or any other blood-splattered clothing. Nothing in plain sight, anyway.
We left the boat. On the way back to the parking lot, Jack said, "I think he's picking off these people one by one. Everyone he feels responsible for putting him in jail.”
"What's the connection to Dr. Renick?”
He shrugged.
"Let's see what we can dig up.”
We hopped into the Porsche and drove back to the sheriff's department. I logged the shoe in as evidence, then we found Denise at her desk. I had her dig into Dr. Renick and see if there was anything that would connect her to Darrell York.
Her fingers tapped the keys as we huddled around her desk, doing a deep dive on Miriam Renick, cross-referencing her name with Darrell York.
Nothing turned up.
We headed back to Diver Down to grab a late lunch. Teagan greeted us with her infectious smile as we took a seat at the bar. “What’s shake’n boys?”
We caught up on the latest gossip, then perused the menus. We started off with chips and lobster queso dip, and snacked on fried coconut shrimp with a pineapple rum glaze. Jack ordered the grilled mahi mahi, and I went with the jerk chicken sandwich.
By this time, it was downright chilly. It drizzled off and on throughout the day, and the clouds stayed pretty thick. This kind of weather was certainly an unusual occurrence in Coconut Key.
We returned to the boat, and I took Buddy out for a run in between showers. I got a workout in, and by that time, it was arguably happy hour.
We headed up to Oyster Avenue, and Jack found a place to park on the boulevard. There wasn't much traffic out since the weather wasn't so great. We hustled down the street, stepped into Sandy Bottoms, and took a seat at the bar.
It was a casual place with a beachy vibe and murals of white sand, teal water, and, of course, sandy bottoms. Driftwood tables and chairs, soft lighting, and cheap drinks at happy hour. Delightful waitresses pranced around in bikinis. Although in this weather, they weren’t too happy about it. The air smelled like fresh coconut.
I’d worked up an appetite after my workout and was ready to chow again. We ordered a round of cocktails and a platter of appetizers—crab balls, grilled shrimp, oysters on the half shell.
