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

fireplace. She held the glass globe from an antique oil lamp in one hand and a lit match in the other, lighting a lamp on the mantel.
    “You don’t have electricity?”
    The flickering light from the match strengthened as it touched the wick. The dim yellow light dancing across Coral’s face created a very stunning and erotic image in Michal’s mind.
    “No, they never ran wires to this cottage. It used to be an icehouse. At least the main room was. The rest was added on. I bought it as is, at a ridiculously low price, and have come to love not having power. No phone or cable either. But, I do have plumbing.”
    “But no hot water?”
    “There’s a gas water heater, but I turned it off since it’s rarely needed. Out back is a huge rain barrel up on stilts where the sun heats the water. In winter, it’s barely lukewarm and I have to heat a couple of gallons on the gas stove to take a hot bath. Cheaper than heating thirty gallons.”
    She replaced the globe, and the light spread across the tiny room, revealing the furnishings. The exterior walls were all covered with a dense, heavy-looking wood, having light and dark swirls of grain. It appeared the same as on the outside, Michal noted, but the inside was unpainted. Not paneling, but rough-sawn planks, probably original. On the walls hung a few brightly colored tropical paintings. There was a recliner next to the front window, turned at a slight angle so a person sitting in it could see the front porch. Another oil lamp sat on a small table next to it for reading.
    Opposite the door, the whole wall surrounding the fireplace was filled with bookshelves. They ran floor to ceiling, and there was even one of those ladders on wheels like in some old libraries. All of the shelves were nearly full.
    A small love seat was against the interior wall to the right, with a tiny wooden coffee table in front of it. Next to the love seat was the opening to what looked like a small alcove-type kitchen. Beyond that, a short hallway extended to the rear of the little house, a door on each side and another at the end, presumably the bedroom, bathroom, and linen closet.
    To his left, the other exterior wall was empty, just a window with the shade pulled completely down. Coral walked slowly toward Michal and closed the screen door behind him, leaving the heavy wooden door open to let the heat out of the room.
    “Welcome to my home.”
    “But you got in a cab after you got off work last night,” Michal said, somewhat confused. “We can’t be more than a few blocks from there.”
    Coral laughed. “A friend of my aunt. He’s an old Bahamian man, sort of a mother hen to a lot of us that he sees as vulnerable. He insists that he pick me up when my shift ends. Then we stop and pick up a few other girls at different places where they work and he circles the island before dropping us off. He’s really nice. You’ll probably meet him sooner or later.”
    “Smart idea in a party town like this.”
    She crossed over to the coffee table and, bending over it, she opened a small drawer, hidden from sight on the other side. Michal stood, staring. The back of her little dress rode up her thighs and he gasped slightly when he saw that she had nothing on under it.
    “Let’s relax,” she said as she took out a small plastic bag, a lighter and some rolling papers. “Can you roll?”
    “Sure,” Michal replied.
    Coral shoved him down onto the small couch and said, “Good. Get to work and roll us up a nice fatty and I’ll be right back.”
    When Coral disappeared down the hall, Michal opened the bag and held it to his nose, breathing deeply of the pungent aroma. Working quickly, he rolled two nice-sized joints, judging from the smell that her stash wasn’t the greatest weed in the world. He liked weed better than coke. It seemed to work directly with his natural tendency to take things as they came, where coke did the opposite.
    He heard a toilet flush and water running into a basin. A moment