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

water, and they were trying to mimic him.
    As Charlie hurried the kids toward shore, Pescador stopped for a quick ear scratch and Charlie said, “I’ll get dinner started while you two get cleaned up.” She smiled at her husband and added, “I brought home a big pot of Rufus’s janga soup.”
    Carl and I each grabbed a bar of soap from a box mounted at the end of the pier and dove into the warm, clear water. Minutes later, we were toweling off while walking toward the shoreward end of the pier.
    “What’d you make of that today?” I asked Carl. “I mean the two dope pushers arriving at the Anchor about the same time?”
    We sat down at the table nearest the big stone grill. Carl opened the cooler and took out two Red Stripes and a bottle of water, offering me either. I took the beer and opened it with a bottle opener laying on the table. The first pull on the beer was delicious and cold, with just a bit of the grainy texture I like.
    “Wish I’d been inside to see old Rufus in action,” Carl said. “There’s a lot of rumors about him, nothing substantiated. All kinds of mystical stuff he was supposed to be involved in here, a long time ago. The two pushers? I don’t know, man. It seems to just get worse and worse around here.”
    “Mysticism, huh? If I believed in any of that, it’d make sense of what I saw. You’re right about it getting worse, though. But I don’t think we have any kind of drug problem here on the island.”
    Carl laughed. “No, definitely not here. Charlie’d kick my ass if I even smoked pot.”
    “You ever tried it?”
    Carl looked at me, questioningly. “Yeah, I used to smoke quite a bit. That was before I met Charlie, though. You?”
    “Nope, never had the occasion or desire to try it. Wonder how that big guy was able to track the other guy all the way from Pittsburgh?”
    “I dunno, maybe he’s part bloodhound. What exactly did he say after Rufus cleaned their clocks?”
    I thought it over a minute. “Credit card! The big guy said that the guy’s name was something Grabowski and he paid with a credit card. He was specific about that, but how would he know?”
    “Wouldn’t be hard for a computer hacker to get that information,” Carl said. “Why’s it important?”
    I just shrugged. “I don’t know, just curious, I guess. I wouldn’t think an ex-jock-turned-dealer would be all that great at computer hacking.”
    “Maybe he has help. Like Chyrel does for you guys.”
    Chyrel Koshinski is a part of Deuce’s CCC team. A former CIA computer analyst, she’s able to hack just about any security system in the world, including the CIA’s.
    “I’m gonna go make a call before supper,” I said as I got up and headed toward my little stilt-house on the other side of the island. It wasn’t a long walk. The clearing in the middle of my little island is barely more than an acre, with the two houses and two bunkhouses nestled into the tree line along the shore. The whole island is hardly two acres at high tide.
    In the house, I checked the table in the corner of the small galley before looking around the tiny living room. Going back to the bedroom, I searched the nightstand and dresser.
    The boat! I thought. I’d called Linda the night before last, while anchored in Jewfish Basin about fifteen miles southwest of here. I made my way outside and down to the south pier, opening the door to the dockage area under the house. Vaulting over the gunwale, I found my phone in the drink-holder of the fighting chair. The battery was dead.
    I plopped down in the chair to think. I’ve lost quite a few chargers and more than one cell phone over the last seven years since moving to the Keys. I just never make a lot of phone calls.
    I jumped up from the chair, remembering that when I called Linda, the battery had been dead that time also, and I’d called her from the bridge, where I could plug it in.
    Finding the charger where I’d left it at the console, I connected it to my phone again.