“Then you have a Swedish attitude,” she said. Then there was some sort of scuffle at the bar, and Stone turned to see a man take a swing at another. The swinger was a compact, muscular man with blood in his eye; the one scrambling to his feet was Charley Boggs.

Two men came running down the stairs from the main restaurant and pulled the fighters apart. There was some discussion, which Stone couldn’t hear, then Charley Boggs stalked away from the deck and out of the restaurant, while the shorter man returned to his table and his drink.

“Why are you so interested in this argument?” Annika asked.

“I’m sorry, I’m a great deal more interested in you, but I know one of the men.”

“Which one?”

“The one who got thrown out. His name is Charley Boggs, and the local police suspect him of being a drug dealer.”

“And why are you acquainted with a drug dealer?” she asked, not unreasonably.

“I’ve met him only once; he’s apparently an associate of a man I’m trying to find.”

“Do you want to follow him?”

“No, I want to have dinner with you, then take you back to your house and make love to you.”

She smiled. “Thank you, I would prefer that, too. Who is the man you’re looking for, and why?”

“His name is Evan Keating, and I need to get his signature on some legal documents.”

“Are you a lawyer?”

“Yes, in New York.”

“Does your work often bring you into contact with drug dealers?”

“No. Keating’s father wants to sell the family business, and they need the agreement of the young man. The company is a client of a law firm I’m associated with.”

“Well, if you are sent to Key West on business, then you lead an interesting life,” she said.

“Sometimes it’s interesting; sometimes it’s too interesting.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean it’s interesting if I meet someone like you during the course of my business, and it’s too interesting if I’m knocked unconscious outside a restaurant.”

She smiled. “Well, you are the first man I’ve ever met when he was lying face down on a sidewalk.”

“Did you see whoever hit me?”

“No. I turned a corner, and there you were. A car was driving away.”

“What kind of car?”

“A white convertible with a man and a woman inside.”

“That would have been Evan Keating and his girlfriend, Gigi Jones.”

“The man you’re looking for?”

“Yes. I had approached him at the bar in the Marquesa and asked to speak with him. He suggested we go outside.”

“Isn’t that what American men do when they wish to fi ght? Go outside?”

Stone laughed. “Sometimes. I wasn’t expecting a fight on that occasion, though.”

“She must have hit you with something heavy,” Annika said.

“Why do you think the girl hit me?”