Fallen Honor: A Jesse McDermitt Novel (Caribbean Adventure Series Book 7) by Wayne Stinnett

the statement, but not really saying which. Changing the subject, he asked, “What’s your last name?”
    Coral sat up straight and smiled. “La Roc, capital L , a , capital R , o , c . Coral La Roc.” She extended her hand across the small table.
    “Michal Grabowski,” he said, taking her hand in his and feeling a rush of warmth from the contact. “Wait! That’s a palindrome.”
    Coral beamed. “You have a quick mind. I like that in a man.”
    “And it seems your folks must have had a really great sense of humor.”
    “They didn’t come up with it. I did.”
    “It’s not your real name?” Michal asked.
    “The first name, I was born with. I had my last name changed legally when I moved here.”
    Michal lifted his beer mug in a toast. “Well here’s to your sense of humor, then.”
    Coral raised her own mug to his. “And to your quick mind.”
    Over Coral’s shoulder, a passing figure caught Michal’s eye. It was the pickpocket from the bus station, walking through the parking lot just outside the far window. The guy he’d sold an eight ball to up in Belle Glade.
    Keep the credit cards and just keep walking, asshole , Michal thought. He didn’t need the ugly, stinky little man ruining things. Coral turned in her chair and followed his gaze out the open front window, but the pickpocket was out of sight and she turned back to Michal.
    “What was it?” she asked, hesitantly.
    “Oh, nothing,” he lied. “Just someone who looked like a guy I used to know.”
    Coral looked out over the water and took a deep breath of the salty air, listening to the gentle sound of the rigging, clanking on the masts of the few sailboats tied off to the docks. “Know what would be really great right now?”
    Michal was admiring the side of her face. Her small chin and tiny mouth lifted to the breeze, elongating her slender neck. “I sure do. Probably not the same thing you’re thinking, though.”
    Coral giggled and reached up to touch her hair again. Michal suddenly realized he hadn’t seen her do this with any of the other guys at the bar. “All things in their time,” she whispered. “What I was thinking is, I’d love to smoke some weed right now.”
    “You get high?” he asked incredulously.
    “Sometimes. When I really want to relax and unwind.”
    “Wish I had some.”
    She stood quickly and came around beside him, tugging on his arm. “Let’s go to my place. I have some.”
    With no further urging needed, Michal rose from his seat and dropped two twenties on the table. They left the restaurant and walked south on Margaret Street, arm in arm. A block later, they were swallowed by the tall, stately trees of Key West’s charming and historical Old Town.
    Half a block further, Coral steered him into an alley between two white picket fences, and they emerged in a tiny but well-kept yard by a small cottage. It was no more than twenty feet wide and not much more than that deep. The little house sat on brick pilings and was painted pale blue with bright yellow trim. Two windows, one on either side of the front door, had long louvered shades that would block the sun, but you could still see through.
    Stepping up onto the little porch, Coral took a single key from her small purse and opened the screen door. She inserted the key in what looked like a centuries-old lock and turned it, with a heavy click. Turning the doorknob, the heavy-looking wood door opened on silent hinges. “I’m guessing Michal Grabowski is your real name, huh?”
    “Yeah,” he replied, a little confused and holding the screen door open for her.
    “If someone’s looking for you, you should change it. Wait here, while I light a lantern.”
    Coral disappeared into the dark house, leaving Michal wondering who it was that might be looking for her. A moment later he heard the scratch of a wooden match and stepped inside slightly, still holding the screen door open. Coral was standing on the far side of the small room, next to a wood-burning