Clint Faraday Collection C: Murder in Motion Collector's Edition (25 page)

Judi and Dave came in the front door, yelling
that they were there and hungry. They came onto the deck where
Clint and Nikolo were lounging and apologized for the rude
entrance. Nikolo waved and said he was also hungry so would treat
them all to a good meal in the restaurant of their choice.

“
I was
making some gunk, there’s plenty, so we’ll take you up on that
another time,” Clint said. “You guys, this is Nikolo, who you’ve
heard me mention. Dave and Judi. You can entertain each other while
I do the finishing touches thing to our meal.”

He went to the kitchen and took the Yankee
pot roast he was fixing out of the slow cooker and put it in a
large pot to finish cooking. He made a salad of various fruits, set
the table and yelled to come and get it or he’d throw it to the
fish. They came in laughing and joking. It was a great time.

That night Nikolo took them and Ben and Earl,
the gay couple in a nearby house, to dinner at the Nine Degrees.
Nikolo was staying at the Tropical Suites where Clint told the
employees that King Fatuous was going to do twenty years.

Nikolo went back to Costa Rica the next day.
Clint went back home to lay around a bit.

What now? Fishing? Maybe visit his friends on
the comarca?

He’d think of something.

Clint Faraday Mysteries #14

Dead End

(c)2011 by C. D. Moulton

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblances
to persons, living or dead, or events is purely coincidental unless
otherwise stated.

Obnoxious people are building a marina on
Isla Popa in a part that such a venture can’t but fail. The
Indigenos are trying to tell them it won’t work and they take it as
the Indigenos trying to run them off their property.

Then there is a murder attempt.

Contents

Poor Attitude

Wrong Place

Murder Attempt

Greedbags

He Finally Saw the
Light

Find the Hit Man

Closer

Hit Man Found

Find Grossman

(Un)poetic
Justice

Clint Faraday Mysteries #14

Dead End

Poor
Attitude

Clint Faraday, retired PI from Florida, was
lounging in the hammock on his deck at his new permanent home on
Saigon Bay, Isla Colón, Bocas del Toro, Panamá. He wasn’t thinking
of much, just allowing his mind to wander at will. Silvio Flores
and family went by in their large cayuca (dugout boat) and greeted
him with the common Indio greeting, “Coin dere!” (Good afternoon!).
He waved and called the greeting back.

Judi Lum, his very attractive nextdoor
neighbor from Taiwan, came onto her deck with Dave, their nutty
musician/ botanist/author friend. They greeted everyone. Judi
called the Flores family over to her dock to give them pineapple
upside-down cake she made for the kids, though everyone got a big
piece.

Dave held up a plant to Clint. An orchid he’d
brought back from the comarca. It was finally in bloom again and
Dave called that it probably was a new species. It definitely
wasn’t listed as being found in Panamá.

Clint
went to his piece of the plant (Dave had finally gotten him
interested in the things and had his deck and yard covered with
hundreds of species). It was a few days from blooming. An
Oncidium
alliance thing that Dave said
was either a natural hybrid with a local
Oncidium
and
Psychopsis papilio
or a new species. Clint was even learning a few of the
scientific names, though the Indios had local names for most of
them. This one the natives in the comarca where it was found called
it the Grande Mariposa Amarillo, or great big yellow
butterfly.

He saw
another one, a large spidery green and brown flower called
Brassia
verucosa,
was blooming.
He called to Dave that it was open. Dave said he’d come right over.
It was out of season, but that may be because he’d moved it. Maybe
he’d cross it on his new species.

There was a loud call from Clint’s front
door, “Buenos!” that was the popular way to “knock” on a door here.
He went out to find Ernesto and Pancho Smith standing there. He
said, “Passe! Yantoro!” (all around greeting. It meant “good” – as
did “Coin”) and waved them in. Smith was a semi-common Indio name.
Somebody’s father or great grandfather was a gringo. They came in
for Clint to offer them coffee or soda or whatever they liked. They
accepted Cokes.

Dave came in with a plate of upside-down cake
for everyone. Judi was with him so they sat around the table on the
deck to talk. Nesto and Pancho were beating around the bush so
Clint knew they needed a favor, but were uncertain about how to
ask.

“
What?”
he asked. “You’re friends. What’s the problem and how can I
help?”

“
We are
not certain,” Nesto replied. “There is something very wrong on Isla
Popa. We are not ... we cannot find what is happening. People are
afraid, I think because those people want to buy the back end where
there is deep water to build a marina and they think we don’t want
a marina there. We are only trying to say it would not be a good
place for a marina because no one would come. There is no
connection to anywhere else and there is no tourism on Popa because
of that. It would mean jobs for us, but that is no good if it will
fail.”

“
Why are
you afraid? Of what or whom?”

“
We are
not afraid. Some others are, those who live very close to where
they want to construct the marina,” Pancho answered. “Their cows
have died for no reason and the chickens are not laying and are
very nervous, even for birds. The parrots don’t come there and they
used to come, many hundreds of them, to roost in the big
trees.

“
We do
not say those people are doing it. It is that there was no such
thing before they came here. There was no problem until they
started making the stupid marina, now there are many problems. We
do not have much money. We wanted to ask that you find what is
wrong and who is doing things as a friend. We have waited too long
already.”

“
Violeta’s from there. She told me they had two cows that
died and a pig and they didn’t know why,” Judi said. “They live on
the northwest end of the island. Is that where they want to build
the marina?”

“
Yes.
Violeta is the daughter of Samos and Irena. They are close to the
place,” Nesto replied.

“
You
should have come to Clint before. She told me that a month or more
ago.”

“
I’ll see
what’s happening out there. If there’s some bunch of crummy
greedbags doing anything to your stock I’ll put a fast end to it,”
Clint promised. “Those tactics are from the past. Try them now and
we’ll teach them a lesson in respect!” Clint always got furious
when asshole gringos – or anyone else, for that matter – tried to
intimidate the Panamanians, particularly the Indios. He was such a
close friend to them that Obilio, a chief on the comarca, had
declared he was Ngobe (the Indigenos in Bocas del Toro Province).
He was, therefore, by law, an Indio. Ngobe. (NhOBEh. The language
is Ngoberé (knob-ur-AY).

Clint got all the information he could from
them and promised to go down to Popa the following morning to talk
with other natives, then he’d go calling on the gringos.

Wrong Place

Clint pulled up to the dock near the Smith’s
cluster of houses and six small kids ran down to hug him and call
him Tio Clint. He went toward the houses and four more from the
neighboring houses came running to hug him. They were the Taylor
family, also a common Indio name.

Pancho came out to greet him with his wife,
Marta. They talked a bit over fresh ground coffee from the finca.
Clint was filled in as much as they knew, but he would walk across
to the Serrano place to talk with the people who were actually
involved, then he’d go to where he could see a dock being built.
That would be the marina. He knew a thing or two about the area
that whoever was building that place didn’t, apparently. It was no
place for a marina even if there were access to the mainland or
major islands.

“
They
don’t speak much Spanish and don’t care to learn. That kind,”
Samuel said a little later when Clint strolled over to his little
finca with a gaggle of kids skipping along with him. “We try to
tell them they can’t build a successful marina there because it is
the wrong place. They are very nasty and bravo and say we can’t
tell them where to build or not build anything because they have a
permit.

“
What
good is a permit if the place is wrong?

“
They are
not very nice people. The son is maybe worse than them. He doesn’t
want to be here. He wants to go back to Oklahoma where he was
raised.. The boys here tried to be his friend, but he is not
interested. He doesn’t want friends, then I have heard him saying
to his parents that there is nothing to do here and no one will
even talk to him. I think the woman also does not want to be in
Panamá. She says no one will be her friend. She is not a friend to
us, so why would we be a friend to her? How can we? They won’t talk
to
us!”

“
I know
the type,” Clint said. “All us gringos have to live with what they
make people think all gringos are.”

“
We don’t
think of people in that kind of way. Some gringos are too like them
and some are not – the same as there are Indio thieves, but most
are not. Besides which, you are no longer a gringo. You are now
declared Ngobe!”

“
And
proud to be!” Clint returned. “I’ll see what I can do about it.
Maybe I can make them realize you aren’t telling them they can’t
build there because of what you want, but because the natural
conditions make it stupid to try.”

They chatted a bit more, then Clint and the
kids went back to his boat. He hugged them all goodbye and motored
around to the large dock under construction. It had signs that said
it was a private dock. Keep out. Clint ignored the signs and tied
his boat next to a large material hauler barge. He went onto the
dock and up to the house where a man, woman and teenage boy were
standing, watching him. He greeted them and introduced himself.

“
Hello.
I’m Robert, this is Sarah and my son is William. Morris. From
Oklahoma in the states. I’ve heard of you. You’re Clint Faraday,
the bigshot retired detective.”

“
I’m a
retired detective. I’m no bigshot. I just keep my hand in the
business because the police here asked me to.

“
You’re
building a marina, I understand. I think there are some things you
don’t know about the area you’ve chosen.”

“
Here we
go! More threats about what will happen if we try to open anything
here among the Panamanian tree apes!” William said sourly. “Go fuck
yourself!”

“
You’re a
real wise-ass little shithead bastard, aren’t you?” Clint said
pleasantly. “I get so damned tired of your type of punk. You think
you know everything and that the world revolves around your
amazingly stupid ass. You’ll learn.

“
I think
you totally misunderstand what the Indios are trying to tell you,
but that’s mostly because you don’t have the simple self-respect to
understand them. You react to them the way you react to anyone you
don’t understand.”

“
But you
do understand them!” William spat. “You’re no Indian!”

“
Actually
I am. I’m a Ngobe. I understand a lot more than you might
think.

“
Why do
you people stand there and allow this spoiled little punk to talk
to your guests like this? Is it the way you were raised so you
don’t know that discipline has a lot to do with how your life turns
out?”

“
He’s
just going through that stage,” Sarah answered. “It doesn’t do any
good to talk to him. He’s just rebellious and doesn’t like it here.
He’ll outgrow it.”

“
If he
survives. Are you willing to listen to a few facts or do you prefer
to act like the victim of something undefined you don’t want
defined? It’s you who stand to lose your asses here. The Indios
have been here since before the Americas were discovered and will
be here when we finally are able to destroy what we call
civilization with our greed.”

“
You
know, I don’t like your attitude at all!” Robert said haughtily.
“You aren’t going to scare us off this place! Don’t bother
trying!”

“
Okay.
I’ll go away and let the natural facts of this area break you. I
don’t much care for your attitude, either, in case you’re stupid
enough to think I’m impressed with it. If you’ll stop to think for
ten seconds you’ll see that I have nothing to gain or lose by
coming here. I’m impressed by your actions and words, but not the
way you probably intended. It tells me a lot about you.

“‘
Bye!

“
Oh! One
other thing. If anymore animals are poisoned or such, you’ll find
that I’m a police officer when called. I’ll have the two of you
locked up for ninety days or so. You can refuse to allow a minor
like this little halfassed punk to be prosecuted. He can see how he
likes living for ninety days in a place he’s alienated everyone
without you to pamper him.”