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“What? Where did you find this?”
“In Dan’s hand. I think…” I swallowed. “I think he was holding it when he died.”
“That is your insulin?” Angel asked, comprehension dawning. She took a long sucking breath between pursed lips, and then seemed to realize what this meant—or could mean. “Wait, are you saying Dan was the thief?”
“Bullshit!” Santana cried, at the same time as I said, “I don’t think so, no.”
“But if he had the insulin—” Angel began, but Santana cut her off.
“No. No, I don’t believe it. It’s bullshit, Dan would never. He would never! He knows what that means to me. It was Conor. It was Conor punishing him for standing up to him. I know it was!”
“It wasn’t Conor,” Angel said patiently. “We have been through this, Santana.”
“I’m pretty sure it was Joel,” I said. “I showed him the vial last night—”
“You did what?” interjected Angel, but I kept going, doggedly, speaking over her.
“—and his reaction was really off. He looked guilty as hell. But he also looked… stricken. In a way I didn’t completely understand. But I think I do now.”
“What do you mean?” Santana cried. “And more to the point, where’s the rest of my bloody insulin? That vial is half-full.” She pointed at the little bottle in my hand, which had a pinprick in its lid.
I took a deep breath, marshalling all the clarity I could. The sequence of events had seemed so clear when I was running through them up at the villa, but now I was doubting my own logic. It made sense though. I knew it made sense. I just had to convey it to Angel and Santana.
“I think Joel took the insulin and gave it to Conor. I don’t know why. Probably Conor asked him to steal it because he knew we’d suspect him and would be on our guard if he started sniffing around our villa. Maybe he came up with some argument about Dan being a loose cannon, and it being safer for everyone to have a hold over him. Or maybe he just straight-up bribed Joel with some water. I don’t know about you, but there’s not a lot I wouldn’t do for an extra liter right now.”
“I wouldn’t fucking steal someone’s medication,” Santana growled, but I saw Angel run her tongue unconsciously over her cracked lips, and I thought she knew what I meant, and was honest enough to know that we might all have been tempted, with the right ask.
“But how did it end up in Dan’s hand?” Angel asked. “Are you saying it was… comment on dit, mise-en-scène—staged? That Conor put it there when he found the body?”
“I don’t think so,” I said, shaking my head. “Dan had rigor mortis. His hand was completely clamped around the bottle. No, I think Dan did go and see Conor the other night.”
“But you said Conor and Zana were alone?” Santana objected. “You said you would have seen Dan coming back.”
“I think I was wrong. I think Dan went out to the water villa, and he got hold of a vial somehow. I don’t know how—maybe he found it, or maybe Conor offered it to him, to try to placate him, and it backfired. Either way, I think they ended up fighting and Conor drowned him, and then pushed his body into the riptide to be carried out to sea. It was just his bad luck that the currents carried it back—with the insulin.”
“You cannot know any of that,” Angel said skeptically, and I shook my head.
“No, I can’t. But going on what little data we do have, it’s the only way I can make sense of Dan holding the insulin the moment he died. He must have taken it from whoever killed him—and we know that wasn’t Joel. Joel was in the villa with us all night. And there’s something else. Conor’s hair was wet when I went out to the water villa that night.”
“Wet?” Santana said blankly. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, wet. Like he’d had a shower. He was wearing a towel as well. Now, it’s possible he went for a last-minute swim before bed to cool down….”
“But it’s far more likely he got wet drowning Dan,” Santana said. Her voice cracked. “Oh, darling Dan, you stupid fucker. I begged him. I begged him not to go out there.”
“I know,” I said quietly. Angel put her arm around Santana’s shoulders and she wept, dry, racking sobs. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“So we confront him?” Angel said now, her voice fierce. “We get Joel to confess what he did, the little worm, and then we confront the psychopath?”
“Well…” I said reluctantly. “That’s the other thing I’m worried about. I asked Joel about it last night.”
“And?”
“And he looked… sucker punched. More shocked than I would have expected. I didn’t accuse him in so many words, but it was pretty clear what I was saying. But I don’t think that was what shocked him. I mean, he knew what he’d done—he must have known that there was a chance we’d put two and two together. No, I think he was shocked because when I told him Dan had been holding a vial of insulin, he realized what I did—that if Dan was holding the bottle when he died, that meant he did see Conor the other night. And it probably meant that Conor had murdered him.”
“So he is forced to reckon with the true nature of his psycho friend. And now he is gone to have some midlife crisis moment in the forest?” Angel said scornfully. Her voice was full of disgust. I shrugged.
“I mean… it’s possible. And it’s what I hope.”
