“Did he at any time speak to you of cocaine or drug-trafficking?”

“No, of course not. I would have told you.”

“As you told me about the key?” When Jonas started to protest, Moralas waved him off. “I will need a list of your customers for the past six weeks, Miss Palmer. Names and, wherever possible, addresses.”

“My customers? Why?”

“It’s more than possible that Mr. Sharpe used your shop for his contacts.”

“My shop.” Outraged, she stood up. “My boats? Do you think he could have passed drugs under my nose without me being aware?”

Moralas took out a cigar and studied it. “I very much hope you were unaware, Miss Palmer. You will bring me the list of clients by the end of the week.” He glanced at Jonas. “Of course, you are within your rights to demand a warrant. It will simply slow down the process. And I, of course, am within my rights to hold Miss Palmer as a material witness.”

Jonas watched the pale blue smoke circle toward the ceiling. It was tempting to call Moralas’s bluff simply as an exercise in testing two ends of the law. And in doing so, he and the captain could play tug-of-war with Liz for hours. “There are times, Captain, when it’s wiser not to employ certain rights. I think I’m safe in saying that the three of us in this room want basically the same thing.” He rose and flicked his lighter at the end of Moralas’s cigar. “You’ll have your list, Captain. And more.”

Moralas lifted his gaze and waited.

“Pablo Manchez,” Jonas said, and was gratified to see Moralas’s eyes narrow.

“What of Manchez?”

“He’s on Cozumel. Or was,” Jonas stated. “My brother met with him several times in local bars and clubs. You may also be interested in David Merriworth, an American working out of Acapulco. Apparently he’s the one who put my brother onto his contacts in Cozumel. If you contact the authorities in the States, you’ll find that Merriworth has an impressive rap sheet.”

In his precise handwriting, Moralas noted down the names, though he wasn’t likely to forget them. “I appreciate the information. However, in the future, Mr. Sharpe, I would appreciate it more if you stayed out of my way. Buenas tardes, Miss Palmer.”

Moments later, Liz strode out to the street. “I don’t like being threatened. That’s what he was doing, wasn’t it?” she demanded. “He was threatening to put me in jail.”

Very calm, even a bit amused, Jonas lit a cigarette. “He was pointing out his options, and ours.”

“He didn’t threaten to put you in jail,” Liz muttered.

“He doesn’t worry as much about me as he does about you.”

“Worry?” She stopped with her hand gripping the handle of Jonas’s rented car.

“He’s a good cop. You’re one of his people.”