[wildlife chittering, chirping]
I was fluffing the pillow.
It's fine. We don't need to talk--
I was fluffing.
I was not humping.
That pillow did not represent Vida.
I was not simulating intercourse with a pillow,
despite the plausibility issues of my alternate explanation--
Please stop.
If not for me, then for your own self-respect.
I was surprised to learn that you were looking into Vida's murder.
I heard you moved on.
That certainly would have been the healthy choice.
I think you'd agree it's a question that can't be left unanswered.
It's already been answered.
The official police account is true.
The two of you fought.
Vida ran to the swamp to buy drugs
and was killed by a junkie
who valued her diamonds more than her life.
Well, that is just the simple answer, and you know it.
Mira, pendejo, I know my daughter
certainly better than you ever did.
No, you do not.
And I resent that.
When she was in pain, she did drugs,
and she was in pain.
Whatever lies Vida told you,
she spent most of her time in our Rosemary Beach house before she died
because she needed to get away from you.
I don't believe that.
Nobody wishes for their child's marriage to fall apart, but I prayed for it...
and was grateful there was another man
who brought something other than misery into her life.
Stop this ridiculous investigation
and go back to whatever it is you do.
Get out of my house.
-Her drug use, her death. -Get out.
The perpetrator you're hunting is yourself.
You're a child, Bell.
A spoiled, drunk child.
[wistful music playing]
I should've done this a long time ago.
It would have saved you.
Well, if you're gonna do it, do it already.
[somber music playing]
[dramatic music playing]
[grunts]
Bellwether, not again!
I tried to shed my mortal coil.
You and I both know that the roof is plagued with wood rot.
That would definitely not work.
But why did you even try?
Alejandro stopped by.
-[sighs] -He called me a spoiled child.
Oh, baby, don't listen to him.
How about I run you a bath, huh?
I'll make some hot cocoa. You love hot cocoa.
I'll be right back.
[grunting]
[hip-hop music playing]
Bill Mason of "The Cockpits"?
Yeah, that's me.
You're under arrest for the murder of Mel Doppler.
Not cool, bro.
Guess you were in such a hurry, you couldn't even let me get dressed first, huh?
[laughs]
Enough, The Rock but dumber.
I'm innocent, all right?
Okay, John Cena but dumber.
I have an alibi.
Based on a bogus phone call
that establishes the wrong time of death.
And I have proof,
Dave Bautista but dumber.
[clears throat]
[cell phone ringing]
Hello.
[softly] Mel Doppler's murder...
what was that thing about the pair of futons?
No, periphytons.
Fuck is that?
Uh, freshwater organisms.
They establish the time of death.
You sound like crap, by the way.
Hmm.
[phone beeps]
[exhales sharply]
Periphytons, Bill.
Fuck is that?
They establish a time frame
that you don't have an alibi for.
So we have motive,
we have means, and...
we have that third thing.
Oh, please.
I'll do, like, half the max. That's five years.
I can do that standing on my head.
Don't you have a two-year-old son?
I'll make it up on the other side.
Oh, right. [scoffs]
So you're just gonna lie around
while some woman raises your child alone?
Then you'll waltz back in with a toy barbell set and say,
[in gravelly, deep voice] "Hey, kid,
let's pick up where we left off"?
Oh, man, you're a mess.
-[normal voice] I'm a mess? -Yeah.
-Seriously? -Yeah.
Have you heard yourself?
What's really bugging you,
murder or the fact that I'm a piece-of-shit dad?
'Cause only one of those is illegal.
Murder.
Murder bugs me.
[quirky music playing]
-Well, hello. -Hey.
Really, Urleen? You like this?
-I like a big man. -I'm big everywhere.
Yeah, I doubt that, given the steroids.
Oh, that just affects the testes.
-Good to know. -[hissing]
-Whoa, good catch. -Yeah.
I found it under the mayor's couch.
If you're wondering where the office cat is,
I got your answer right here.
Oh, shit. Is the mayor okay?
Physically. He did cry like a little man-bitch.
[both chuckle]
But I couldn't really enjoy it today.
Mm?
'Cause of what happened with Bell last night?
Maybe a little something in your stomach will help.
Mm, that's a fine idea, Mother.
Welcome to the manic part of manic depression.
[exhales deeply]
I am fine.
Do you hear me? I am totally fine!
I am A-okay!
You seem fine.
Yeah, he seems real healthy.
[doorbell buzzing]
I brought him some books on how to recover from infidelity.
Bell is stapling.
-That's not good. -Alejandro paid him a visit.
-Oh. -I was sleeping.
Otherwise I would have... [sighs] shot him?
What the hell happened?
Attempted hanging and some staples.
-Staples? -Yeah.
Where is he?
Let's get up, buddy. [sighs]
[Bell] I can't move.
I'm a paralytic zounderkite.
[quirky somber music playing]
I think you're depressed.
Though to be honest,
I didn't think depression was stackable with agoraphobia.
I thought it was like psoriasis and eczema--
your body just sort of picks one.
That didn't work.
Oh, maybe I could read to you.
It always works with Tyler.
Okay, um...
"Chapter One: Don't Get Mad, Get the House."
Hmm, catchy.
Draws me in.
"How long should you stay angry after a profound betrayal?"
Oh, I don't get angry.
I smoke too much weed and my anger receptors are shot.
Awesome.
"No matter the size of the betrayal,
the rule stays constant:
indulge your anger for one week,
and then move on."
One week?
What the hell is this shit?
It got a bunch of five-star reviews.
-Mm-mm. -Oh.
[clears throat]
I'm gonna go keep Ms. Millie company.
Excuse me.
I know about cheating partners, okay?
I'm still pissed as hell,
and there's nothing wrong with that.
You get to be upset.
It's totally okay.
[wistful music playing]
[theme music playing]
He needs professional help.
He's burned through every therapist in North Florida.
He thinks he's smarter than everyone.
-He is. -Mm.
We have to help him...
or commit him, one of the two.
That-- That mirror is gonna give me nightmares.
I...
This guy Alvarez,
he's a doctor of psychology at Florida State.
[Millicent] Mm.
Yeah, but he teaches at Florida State.
Wait.
Harvard, Johns Hopkins...
Oprah,
and he just gave a TED Talk on suicide prevention.
[chuckles]
[Alvarez] The pain I want you never to know
is the permanent, agonizing state of self-inquisition...
[women sobbing]
"Did I do my best in the collective effort
that might have saved their lives?"
Okay, fine.
Fine, Alvarez it is. [sniffles]
We just have to find him.
I can find him.
In a way that doesn't make me have to arrest you?
Let me make a few calls.
-Okay. -Okay.
-Are you okay? -I'm okay.
-[glass shatters] -Oh!
Hungry?
-That's a good sign. -Mm.
Um, if there's some swelling,
why don't you try a little ibuprofen, dear?
Mm, it's not for swelling.
I'm feeding myself to William Moseley.
[quirky music playing]
Eat me, you ignoramus!
This is top sirloin!
You have less than a tablespoon of brains, and it shows!
Bell, you've got to stop this, okay?
It's unfair to everyone.
Your mother's in there suffering!
I think. It's hard to tell.
You told me you understood
the extreme nature of my personal torment.
Yeah, I said I understood it,
not that it gave you permission to hang yourself
from a rotten ceiling.
[sobbing] Vida was hiding at her parents' beach house
and canoodling with her lover.
Beach house? You never mentioned that.
I didn't know she was there until last night.
Well, Bell, there could be clues there.
I don't want clues.
This is my life, and I want to be done with it!
[grunts in frustration]
You know, killing yourself isn't the only way to end suffering.
You ever think of taking responsibility for what happened?
[scoffs]
Guilt ends suffering?
What kind of perverted Buddhism is that?
[sighs] No, no, not guilt. Truth.
Look, there's a saying: "The truth will heal"--
No, thanks!
That's almost the exact same thing
my bastard father-in-law told me last night.
You didn't let me finish.
"The truth will heal you, but first, it'll fuck you,"
and not in a loving, consensual way.
I am taking to my bed.
[sighs]
I got a list of Dr. Alvarez's recent orders.
Digital soil thermometer,
John Coltrane CDs...
-Who still buys CDs? -Mm.
Florida.
Analog soil thermometer,
sulfuric acidifier,
Coco One-Steps.
-That's a tomato thing. -Oh.
[gasps happily]
He's a bluehead.
Ah, I got this.
[Alvarez] That color.
-My God, you're an artist. -[chuckles]
What's the secret?
Eggshells and alligator scat.
I'll text you the proportions.
You'd seriously share that?
To help spread nature's beauty?
Why on Earth not?
I may even consider sharing a cutting.
Well, if there's ever anything I can do to repay you, I--
If we're being honest...
[sighs]
My son is struggling emotionally,
and there just aren't many good therapists out here,
certainly not like you, Dr. Alvarez.
What did you say his name was?
I don't care if he was on Oprah.
And it was '88.
That was trashy Oprah, not good Oprah!
And why didn't anyone ask me if I wanted this?
Because you would've said no.
You have your own unresolved issues
and compulsive behaviors,
but there's no magical shrink landing on your roof,
presuming you have one.
What do you mean by "compulsive behavior"?
Nothing.
-Say it. -No.
Come on. Come on, say it.
Your appetite for, uh,
casual, meaningless--
Ah, see, if I were a man,
all that'd get me is an "attaboy," and you know it.
Also, why are you wearing a tux?
I like this suit,
and I'd only worn it twice.
What should I have done, business casual?
No, you should have worn real clothes that don't smell.
Now.
[Bell sighs]
Do it for the tomatoes.
I will.
She's working him.
Yeah, you're probably right.
Definitely bring that up to your therapist.
Yeah.
All right, go.
Do it. Prince of Tides this shit.
Standard intake sessions are 90 minutes,
but with my profile, you'll take half the day.
Your initial questions will pertain
to possible cerebral trauma and other somatic factors.
Then you'll cover the bases on childhood sexual abuse,
chemical dependence, violence,
arrest, and/or institutionalization.
How was that? Was that everything you hoped for?
[sighs]
Good luck.
[whimsical music playing]
You know, it's probably not the greatest choice to have guns in the house.
Indigo, Bell's father, hated guns.
He knew that I loved them.
He knew I needed that sense of power. [chuckles]
If you don't mind me asking, what happened to Bell's dad?
Six years ago,
he got rip-roaring drunk
and he fell off the hayloft.
Broke his neck.
Wow.
That...
sucks.
What sucked harder
is that Bell found him.
That-- that does suck harder.
How did he handle it?
He didn't handle it.
He handled me.
My grief, my suffering.
He didn't have any time for himself...
And no time for Vida.
That wasn't your fault.
Yes, it was.
No kid should have to fix their parent.
[gasps]
[sniffles] Oh, God.
I'm sorry.
I don't know what's going on.
You're thinking about Tyler.
You'll have him for your whole life, you know.
My parents, they, um--
[sniffles] They didn't believe in the whole lifetime thing.
I won't ever let anything hurt my Ty.
Not his father, not me.
Nobody's gonna hurt my boy.
[Alvarez] You describe two people
who barely communicated.
What do you believe caused this failure?
Me.
I did, 100%. Asked and answered.
-I win. -No, you don't.
-That was evasion. -I'm taking responsibility.
-But for what? -Everything.
It's very courageous.
I feel like I'm being an awesome patient
and you're not recognizing me for it.
Bell, you're holding on to a secret,
and it's poisoning you.
Tell him, Bell. About your father--
I don't want to talk about my father!
[clears throat] Or my mother.
A man finds out his wife cheated.
The affair was his fault, and it led to her murder.
Man hangs himself, then tries to feed himself to an alligator.
It's a tale as old as time.
It's virtually a cliche at this point.
The end. [chuckles]
You know what? Screw it. You're just like all the other shrinks.
Do the hallucinations soothe you or disturb you?
What hallucinations?
The ones projecting right here.
Are you in control of them, or are they in control of you?
Bell, you're not up for a journey
to the core of your soul,
fine, but find a way to live.
Broadly, we're looking at panic disorder
manifesting in agoraphobia,
narcissistic personality traits,
and somehow, oddly,
both elements of bipolar I and bipolar II.
What's the fix?
Well, honestly, I told him to get a hobby.
Bell mentioned a project he was doing.
From what I can piece together, he stopped,
then soon after, the suicide attempt.
He was trying to find his wife's killer.
-He should get back to that. -Hmm.
Because he needs closure.
No, he could knit a sweater, for all I care.
He just needs to do something.
Well, I was helping him, but we sort of--
sort of hit a dead end, so...
Well-- Well, what if someone
broke through that dead end?
Oh, you.
You have an exceptional ability
to overcome obstacles.
I've seen it.
Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no.
No, no, I will not be manipulated.
-Oh, no. -No. Can you hear me?
I'm out. Count me out.
Damn it.
[women giggling]
Oh, hey, Cammie.
Hey, Bitty. Just here to pick up Ty.
[chuckles]
Hey, bug, what's going on
besides this thing that you have on your head?
We're talking about our feelings.
Trish is mad.
Odell didn't even notice my hair.
Maybe now that you're all detective and shit,
you can find out who he's looking at,
'cause it sure as shit ain't me.
Ty...
did you tell Trish that Mommy's a detective?
When I was his age,
I told everyone Mama did Beyonce's hair.
Ooh, that head.
I could've made the queen an empress.
[chuckles]
Baby, we don't say things that aren't true.
You caught two bad guys.
Huh, I thought all you did was annoy the crap
out of everybody with those dang tickets.
[laughter]
Actually, I arrested two murderers.
-Wait, you did what? -What?
-Mm-hmm. -Yeah!
Yeah, I may not be an official detective,
but in case y'all were wondering, I am good at this.
-Oh, okay, queen. -Okay.
As a matter of fact, Bianca, can you keep watching Ty?
Gotta go to the beach and look for some clues.
[Tyler] I wanna go!
Ms. Millicent gave me a book about the beach.
If I was doing Beyonce's hair, I'd take Bianca.
She would.
Just saying.
[Cammie] Okay, so I'm gonna look for clues, and you're gonna look for...
-Sand dollars? -Nice!
Oh, bet there's a bunch over there
at the end of the beach, huh?
-'Cause of the tides. -What?
How'd you get so smart?
[chuckles]
I'm gonna get some for Ms. Millicent.
Hey.
Gonna tell you something about your grandparents.
You do have a grandma and a grandpa.
They're somewhere, but, um...
a long time ago,
when I was your age,
they decided they had to leave.
Why?
It's complicated.
Did they love you?
I don't know.
And I don't know where they are, so I can't ask.
I didn't tell you, and that was wrong.
It's not good for families
when people keep secrets from each other.
So let's promise, you and I, never to do that, okay?
Hey. Hey, you know what?
Ms. Millicent loves whale bones.
[both giggle]
She likes to use them to stir cocktails,
so why don't you go look for them over there
and I'll look over here, okay?
Okay.
[suspenseful music playing]
[Spanish hip-hop music playing]
[imperceptible]
[tense music playing]
The hell is that?
[Tyler] Mom, there's no whale bones.
I'm coming to your spot.
No, sweetie.
We need dune grass. Pick some of that.
[Spanish hip-hop continues]
-[paper rips] -[grunts]
You can have one next if you want.
[grunts]
Oh, shit.
Oye.
How can you two be so stupid?
You have no self-control. Transporting off-book product to Tampa?
Oh, relax, we send a dozen trucks every week.
One little box off one truck is not a problem, okay?
No one will know.
I know.
And if I do, anyone can.
You both are only part of El Calvero Spirits as long as I allow it.
It was all Yasiel.
I had nothing to do with it, okay?
-[paper rips] -Ow! What are you doing?
Whatever.
-Read the room! -Sorry.
Oh, shit.
[dramatic music playing]
Come on, we gotta go. Come on. Come on.
Okay.
Wait. Mom, look.
Cool. More water.
No, it's a "essotery."
I think you mean estuary, honey.
Wait, I wanna look!
Maybe some other time, Ty, but we gotta go home, all right? Come on.
Please? I love estuaries.
Yeah? What's your favorite thing about estuaries, huh?
They have two kinds of water.
Whoa, two kinds of water?
That does sound cool. How does that work?
Sometimes the swamp water goes down.
Other times, the ocean water goes up.
Whoa, that is neat. Buckle up.
We'll come back real soon and take a look, okay?
Wait, did you say that the water can flow in either direction?
Huh, okay.
Excuse me, Officer. Do you have a moment?
My name is Alejandro Perez.
Yes. How can I help you?
For one, can you explain what a police officer from Boggsville
is doing here on Rosemary Beach?
Oh, just taking my boy to the beach.
I think that's what we Cubans call "un tremendo paquete,"
which translates to "big package," but means "big lie."
Like I always told my children,
don't wander too far from your own beach.
It dirties the sand and...
confuses the lifeguards.
And like I've always told my child,
all Florida shoreline is public,
so go to whatever beach you want.
You say that to your child?
Yes, I do.
Early interest in, um, property rights.
Have a blessed day.
[tense music playing]
[liquid gurgling]
-[electricity crackling] -[gasping]
[grunts]
You Tasered me!
I can name six worse things you've done to your body today.
[screams]
I might have a lead.
I went to Rosemary Beach.
-The Perez house? -Mm-hmm.
What did you observe?
Well, for starters, I saw a man get his anus waxed
by what I suspect to be adult film entertainers.
Mm, that'd be Vida's brother Yasiel.
And I met the dad.
He threatened me. Those people have some serious shit to hide.
All families have things to hide, but how does that help us?
I need specifics.
I don't have specifics.
-Well, what do you have? -Doubt.
I now doubt the official police accounts,
so you can either get your ass off the couch, help me figure this out,
or I can get back to my fucking life.
Which one is it?
I am humoring you,
reluctantly.
The Perez house would be there.
Yeah, yeah, that's the estuary I saw.
Can you bring up the weather system
for the day Vida was killed?
Yes, although to what end escapes me.
I need to look at water levels.
What? It's a thing. I looked it up, okay?
[typing]
Okay, now, can you shift through the time
between when you last saw Vida and when her body was found?
[chimes]
Yeah. Yes, a storm surge.
See, that's the thing that I looked up.
See that? So usually,
water from the estuary flows from the swamp,
but tidal surges cause the estuaries to flow backwards.
So that night,
water flowed from the gulf to the swamp.
The cops assumed that Vida was killed at the swamp,
but really, she could have been killed at the beach
and then washed into the swamp.
[sighs]
The investigation was predicated
on a false assumption.
This is the most important breakthrough in five years.
-Mm-hmm. -How did you even think of this ecological minutia?
Because I'm smart. [chuckles]
What, you think I cheated or something?
No, of course not. Apologies.
Look, the point is, no more wallowing or drugging yourself
or feeding yourself to the alligator, okay?
If we don't figure this out, no one will.
There's no way around it.
We have to get her body.
Wait, what?
We need to dig up Vida.
No. No, no, no, no.
That was not what I was saying here.
We need her body to see if there's evidence of seawater.
You can't just dig somebody up.
There are rules against that.
Oh, please, it's Florida.
Nobody's protecting dead bodies.
Dead bodies don't vote. [chuckles]
Sometimes they do vote.
Okay, with the understanding that no one can predict the future,
what do you think?
Is there any chance, if we solve this thing,
that you might, um, move on and become a semi-functioning guy?
You are a fascinating woman.
[quirky music playing]
Yes, I am.
Just so you know, I like Bell,
but when you start digging up decomposed bodies for someone,
you gotta ask yourself,
"What's my line for saying no to this guy?"
Well, maybe I'm enjoying myself too.
Do you have a crush on him?
Seriously, Mr. Doctor Fancy Shoes?
You think I'm a teenager or something?
No, I'm a single mom. Single moms don't get crushes.
-That wasn't a no. -[scoffs]
Officer Lorde.
What an unpleasant surprise.
[Cammie] Yeah, yeah.
Who knew a hearse could do 80?
Surprised me too.
I was late to a funeral.
I didn't know it was possible for a body to be late to a funeral.
Yeah, well, we're not here about tickets.
We need to, uh, relocate a decedent.
Her husband wants his beloved wife's remains
to be transferred to their family burial plot.
I'm sorry,
but for a disinterment and relocation,
the next of kin needs to appear in person.
I understand that.
This is Mr. Prescott's personal physician,
Dr. Otis Wright.
Mr. Prescott's designated me as his proxy.
He suffers from acute agoraphobia.
If I can rely on your discretion,
I'll confide in you the truth about his condition.
He has a rare strain of antibiotic-resistant syphilis.
If he appeared in person,
he could create a disturbance.
He spits, occasionally bites,
soils himself,
and sometimes even,
I'm sad to say,
eats the contents.
Yeah, we think arm's length is better.
[Otis] Mm.
[whimsical music playing]
You know, there's a version of this where you don't have to be here.
I'll survive.
I took a smidge of ketamine.
Just a taste.
I am coping wonderfully.
[sighs] Okay.
[sinister music playing]
[Cammie] Whoa.
Hi, honey. I'm home.
All those hours of Pilates for this.
Oh, but my hair held up.
[Darby] Poor Vida.
-She didn't deserve this. -No, I did not.
I mean, she could be a grade-A bitch.
[both] Darby.
So what are we looking for?
Anything that puts her at the beach the night of the murder.
We can look,
but I'm guessing not much survived the embalming process.
You know, I considered extreme embalming.
In Puerto Rico, they call it "el muerto parao."
That's "dead man standing."
It's a combination of pipes and formaldehyde.
I was gonna have her posed with a credit card in one hand and a daiquiri in the other.
[giggling]
You sure you're okay?
No, but I can do this.
Vida never wore nail polish.
Girlfriends notice everything.
Husbands... do not.
Otis, take the polish off, and don't let the acetone leach under.
I'm a doctor.
I'm less arrogant than most of them,
but to be in a barn with a corpse
getting manicure instructions from an exterminator...
Mm, see, one of my former girls,
she got into the funeral business
on account of it's easier dealing with dead men than live ones.
[chuckles]
Morticians don't do anything unless they have to.
If the nails look good, they leave them.
If there's dirt, they paint them.
Otis... please.
[inquisitive music playing]
Huh. Can I borrow your microscope?
Do you have any idea how hard this is for me?
It's a distraction to avoid the truth.
It is not.
I need closure.
You need absolution.
Hey.
Look, I'm sorry. It was too much, seeing her in there.
It's not that. It's--
This is all my fault.
I did all this. I'm a terrible husband.
Even if I do find the person who killed her,
it doesn't solve the fundamental issue.
Which is?
I pushed her away.
She died because of me.
She didn't, Bell.
She died because she died, okay?
You're just-- you're just trying to stay alive.
I don't know if that's fair.
No, I saw her body in there.
She had two legs and a brain.
Wherever she was killed, she got there using them.
Guys, get in here.
-That's an insect wing. -Oh.
What's that get us?
See those fine hairs along the edge?
That's a sandfly.
They don't burrow under fingernails.
I don't know how you get a sandfly wing
lodged deep in a nail unless you're building sandcastles.
Or trying to escape from your attacker at the beach.
You were right.
She wasn't killed at the swamp.
She was killed at Rosemary Beach.
Yeah.
So she fought with you and ran off to meet her lover at the beach.
Consistent with what Alejandro said.
Consistent with what we know.
Look, again, if this is too much,
I can pass this off to Sheriff Grant.
I am perfectly okay.
[staple thudding]
Okay.
Hey, did Vida have any neck surgery?
Maybe sleep issues?
No, she slept like a baby.
[Otis] Metal fragment.
In her hyoid bone.
From the murder weapon?
If they had such a thing as a postmortem MRI around here,
they'd have found it.
Panhandle.
If it wasn't a hatchet lodged in a skull, they would never find it.
-Thank you, Otis. -Mm.
Thank you, all of you.
I will rebury Vida's remains in the morning.
I hope you can join me.
Nothing fancy.
Perhaps some Hemingway daiquiris for old times' sake.
[wistful music playing]
[line ringing]
[Cammie] Hello?
What are you doing awake at this hour?
Fans of the obvious would say it's 'cause I used my badge under fraudulent pretense
to dig up a murder victim.
I analyzed the metal fragment that Otis found in Vida's neck.
It's steel,
but it predates the Bessemer process.
The Bessemer what?
It's 4:30.
Means the murder weapon was antique.
-From the 18th century. -18th?
Like George Washington? Mozart?
This person a time traveler?
Just, just kidding.
Um, that was a joke.
Who the hell has an 18th-century machete?
I have no idea,
but if you'll forgive the class-based presumptuousness,
I'm guessing not a swamp-dwelling meth addict.
[suspenseful music playing]
In the frenzy that accompanies a sudden and tragic loss,
to recognize the deceased in an eloquent and measured way is nearly impossible.
A funeral is...
less about the deceased
than the raw grief of the survivors.
It's been five years since Vida died.
And I have struggled,
as you all know.
[sad music playing]
But today is a new day.
This is her moment.
Vida was a powerful presence.
She still is a powerful presence.
To speak plainly, she is a mystery,
and I'm...
still getting to know the woman I love.
You done now?
Yes, I am done.
♪♪ Been traveling These wide roads ♪♪
♪♪ For so long ♪♪
♪♪ My heart's been far ♪♪
♪♪ From you ♪♪
♪♪ Ten thousand miles gone ♪♪
♪♪ Take me to your river ♪♪
♪♪ I-- ♪♪
[thudding]
All right, um...
she's in there.
[serene banjo music playing]
[Otis] Bell's gonna live.
At least another day.
That's you.
You did it.
No, we all did it.
Say he's only staying on the top of dirt for one person.
Who is it?
His mom?
It's you.
Dr. Wright, is this--
is this you letting me off the hook for those tickets?
-I'm considering letting you off the hook, Officer Lorde. -Uh-huh.
Well, can we seal the deal
if you let me buy you a drink sometime?
Realm of possibility.
Well, in the meantime, I'm gonna go freshen up
and practice on one of their Hemingway daiquiris.
[contemplative music playing]
[Vida sighs] This is where I belong.
Well, a lot of people say
I need to face the truth.
[clears throat] Maybe for the sake of my own...
maturation,
we should take a break.
Just a small one.
[suspenseful music playing]
[Bell] Looking for something?
Yes, I am. [clears throat]
Daiquiris?
I just got back from Miami.
How did things go in Boggsville last night?
It's controlled. Bell's no threat.
A patrol officer from Boggsville was nosing around,
but I straightened that out.
We're good.
Are we?
Si, mi amor.
You're not as cute as you think.
I disagree.
I'm even cuter.
[tense banjo music playing]
["Florida Sand" playing]
♪♪ Wherever I wander ♪♪
♪♪ In summer or winter ♪♪
♪♪ The ocean Is calling me back ♪♪
♪♪ To Florida sand, sand, sand ♪♪
♪♪ The wind and the ocean ♪♪
♪♪ Are calling me back ♪♪
♪♪ To the sand, sand, sand ♪♪
♪♪ The waves softly sparkle ♪♪
♪♪ Beneath a bright moon ♪♪
♪♪ Night birds are crying ♪♪
♪♪ Return to me soon ♪♪
♪♪ Oh, Florida, Florida ♪♪
♪♪ My heart, you ever ♪♪
♪♪ For always The love of this man ♪♪
♪♪ Is Florida sand, sand, sand ♪♪