Clint Faraday Mysteries collection A Muddled Murders Collector's Edition (29 page)

His phone buzzed and he answered. It was
Marko.

“
Clint, I
don’t know what’s going on there,” Marko warned. “There are several
more people who I’m having checked out, not because of who they
are, but because they’re some part of that particular group. This
is either some silly scheme among a bunch of strange people or
something very sinister.

“
So! You
dumped the Smith brothers on the wharf?”

“
They’re
like a lot of those Colón types. Big bad-asses to hear, but wimps,
in fact. They try to scare people into thinking they’re more than
second-rate punks.

“
I’ll
throw some names at you. It’s like you noted, there isn’t anything
about any one or two, but what are they doing here
together?”

“
Shoot.”

“
Sam
Downy.”

“
I’ll
check on any I don’t know. Next?”

“
Frank
Abel.”

“
Israeli.
Greedy type, but not much known now.”

“
Monica
Standing.”

“
One I’m
already tracing. There are gaps. Dabbles in real estate a bit and
is into financing ventures with other people’s money. Sort of a nut
about alcohol. Red wine with meals on special occasions
only.”

“
Just
because it seems so overdone, Gerald and Sylvia
Cartworthy.”

“
I saw
them with that Colombian friend of yours in Panamá City at the
Hotel California a week or so ago. Seemed to be regular tourists,
if a bit stuffy.”

“
Carlos
Vermont? The Colombian?”

“
Yes.
Personable type, if just a tiny bit shady. Seemed friendly with the
girlfriend of Bathner.”

“
Oh? Now
I AM getting curious! Yvon Leonardo? Is she ... she would be in a
position ... and a few things don’t make sense now that did before
and a couple make a strange kind of sense that didn’t
before.

“
Anything
about the Syrian connection?”

“
That’s
something I can’t get anything other than a few hints about. Maybe
someone is trying to get them involved somehow so they’ll have a
place to go when it finally hits the fan.”

“
I don’t
think Syria would be a personal choice. I’m REALLY interested in a
couple of them. They seem to be doing everything in their power to
be noticed in a very negative way here, but were normal tourists in
Panamá City?”

There was a pause, then Marko said, “The
Cartworthys are the only ones who fit that. What are they doing
there? They didn’t impress me as being anything more than your
typical European tourists. A bit uppity, but quiet.”

“
Finding
fault with everything and everyone. Loudly and publicly. Making
total assholes of themselves. Overdoing expressions like people on
those silly soap operas. She’s like a comic Theda Bara, at
times.”

“
What’s
it for? Any guesses?”

“
They
want to be noticed to take notice away from someone else – or so
they WON’T be noticed if they do anything in a normal way?
Everywhere you go, you make a spectacle of yourself. If you don’t,
no one will remember you were even there.”

“
That
would be ... I think I’ll check on them very much more than I
would, otherwise. Maybe they want to be so obnoxious and obvious
that no one would bother, hunh?”

“
I think
they’re probably very smart people, but they won’t make it as
actors.”

“
You do
get the weird ones! Later.”

Clint hung up and stared at the wall a
moment, then got a truly evil little smirk on his face. Everybody
was pulling off some kind of act. He didn’t know what it was about,
but he was going to spend a little time throwing their timing off.
The trouble with working from a script is that only the better
actors could ad-lib or do spontie with any hope of pulling it off.
An amateur with talent could possibly do something to stay in the
general script, but none of these had that kind of talent. Sally
Wallace was stupid and shallow. She might be the only innocent one
in the whole mess.

Clint hoped not. He liked Vern – and that one
was the only one around who could handle the spontaneous act under
unexpected situations. He would be able to look surprised or
confused or whatever else with a sort of innocence. There would be
no throwing off his timing because he was a method actor who let
outside influences determine the script. He wouldn’t have done that
confession part if he was that good, so Clint could hope he was
what he seemed to be. It would be refreshing if one of them
was.

Something
Strange

“
Oye,
Clint. Co coin dega,” Obilio greeted. (It’s a beautiful
day.)

“
It is
truly that! Let’s get some breakfast over in the restaurant by the
bus station. I like looking out over the Pacific in the
morning.”

They strolled slowly over to the little
restaurant, ordered hojaldres, carne aguisada, fried yuca and
coffee and went out to the back to look at the calm sea. “Anything
new?” Clint asked.

“
Those
asshole English people are likely to get robbed and mugged just
because they keep insulting everyone. The secretary, Yvon, spent
the night with the Standing woman. Maybe a girlfriend, but who
knows?”

“
Or
cares, except it could put them into some kind of scheme to screw
Batty. Something very strange is going on here, Obi. Something very
very strange.”

Obilio nodded. “It’s something not good, I
think, no matter how you look at it.”

Clint’s turn to nod.

They finished their breakfast and walked
along the seawall, then Obilio went on to work. Clint went back to
the hotel to change into clothes more suitable for looking around
Orlando’s finca. He always got a kick out of wearing finca boots in
town. A gringo in finca boots?

When it was raining a lot in places like
Bocas and the streets were a mess of puddles. He would wear them
wherever he went. The Indios would greet (pointing at the boots),
“Feo – pero practico!” (“Ugly, but practical!”)

He got a local taxi and told the driver where
to take him. It was about two miles out of town and cost $1.25.
Clint often shook his head when the gringos drove by in their big
fancy SUV’s. The bus from David was $3.80 and one of those gas hogs
cost more than $15.00 to drive the distance. A taxi was fifty cents
in town and you couldn’t start one of them for that, much less
drive anywhere. Buses and taxis took you anywhere you wanted to
go.

He saw Orlando working on a fence line and
chatted a few minutes, told him about the deal Lariez would go for
and said he’d watch out, but Lariez would be legitimate on this
one.

“
But ...
that is three million dollars and I keep my land?”

“
Uh-huh,”

“
What in
hell will I do with three damned million dollars?! Madre de dios!
Who needs it?”

Clint suggested he simply put it in the bank
in certificates and take good care of his family and friends for
the rest of his life on the interest.

“
Maybe
let them all know I will help them if they will keep the gringo
developers out?” Clint gave him the high five. He pointed to the
mountain where Lariez wanted to mine the zinc. He waved and went on
to it.

There were sonic receptors in two places that
Lariez hadn’t taken back out. He knew they were on computer
recording and would have accurate records of what was found so he
slipped a flash drive in the USB port and downloaded the
information. He couldn’t read it until he was back on his laptop.
What he saw was that Lariez had, for a change, probably been
totally honest with him about it.

Well, not totally. It would be against his
nature. He would be hiding something or other if just because
that’s what he’d always done.

Not intentionally dishonest, in other
words.

Clint climbed to the top of the escarpment to
look down at the Pacific. Magnificent! The mining area wouldn’t
even leave a scar. Where the rocks would be removed could be filled
from back more into the mountains and would leave a picturesque
little 3 or 4 acre flat spot to build a nice house.

Not some overdone monstrosity. A little
ranch-style place for Orlando and his family. It was just up enough
that the view would be very pleasant and the escarpment behind
would offer another view and protection against storms and
such.

How strange. There were hundreds of these
kinds of things that could be done to everyone’s mutual benefit
here – but the greedy gringos and Panamanian hoods would take less,
just to be crooked. That’s what had to change in Panamá. The money
and greed psychology of too many non-Panamanians coming in had to
be thwarted.

How fucking noble! Time to get back to the
real world.

Clint read the sonic readout chart and sat
back. There was something else there that could be taken without
anyone knowing about it. Two small lodes of something NOT zinc. He
went on-line and looked up the company who made the sonic recorder.
SonikStar Technical Devices. He spent half an hour accessing
advanced readout data processing and sat back again.

One small lode was lead. Not nearly enough to
make mining profitable in itself, but moderately profitable if
taken with the zinc. Was that enough for Lariez?

Probably. It was just the little
side-insurance his type would look for. He could always say it was
there when they dug so he took it, too. The other only took three
minutes to identify. Silver. Not much, but silver was well worth
mining in small lodes.

Clint grinned and shut down, took a shower
and went to Jola’s for some chicken soup. Lariez and one thug were
there. He was invited to join them, so did.

“
Well,
Clint! It seems the word is out that you think what I’m doing is
Okay and that I will help these people. I don’t need a lot of
protection to walk around town anymore! It is a very liberating
feeling!” Paulo greeted. “Did you find I was being truthful when
you went out to our friend Orlando’s place this
morning?”

“
Basically. He isn’t interested in the little side-lodes.
Just pay him the dollar for the silver – probably not more than a
couple of tons of ore there. The lead isn’t really worth the
trouble, but you might as well get it while you’re digging there,
anyhow.

“
So! Can
you tell me anything about that little bunch of gringos? What are
they up to?”

Lariez laughed until tears were running down
his cheeks. “You are the most amazing person! How in all the world
did you find the silver so fast?

“
For
this, I will split the silver money fifty-fifty with Orlando. He
seems a person I would like to be.”

“
No. He
doesn’t want anymore money. He’ll use what he gets to help all his
friends – and to try to keep the kinds of gringos I’m talking about
out.

“
I didn’t
find the silver. You did. I read the recorders.”

“
I didn’t
know you could do that! Anyone could?”

Clint shrugged. “If Orlando let them in to
find them. Take them out.”

“
Yes.
There is nothing more to be found with them. We shouldn’t have left
them there.”

“
Then I
wouldn’t know about the silver!” Clint pointed out. Lariez really
laughed at that.

“
I think
I’ve once again shot myself in the ass!” he said through giggles.
“It is a habit I would like to break.

“
Clint, I
don’t know what those gringos are after. It doesn’t make any sense.
I think perhaps an insane asylum has let them escape.”

Clint sighed. “Either they’re all nuts or
living in some stupid fantasy or they’re onto something very
crooked. I have to find what it is. If it’s not going to hurt
anyone but other greedbag gringos they can go for it. If it’s going
to hurt my friends here I’m gonna stop it, whatever it takes. Maybe
you and Marko can work with me on something. I think you’d be
friends. I think you’ve finally asked yourself, ‘What’s it for?’
and found that you’ve lost one hell of a lot more than you’ve
gained. Marko can live on his little island in the Mediterranean,
now. He has the respect of the local people and has a family who
won’t have to live with what Pop did for their whole lives.”

“
Except
that I have no family and will not, you are right. It is all for
very little. As much as your friend, Batty, is obnoxious and a
greedy little nothing, he is right about respect. You are right
that it is ‘who’ and not ‘how many’ give you that true respect. I
respect you very much, my friend.”

“
I think
I’m beginning to have a true respect for you. I definitely respect
Marko. More than the normal kind of respect. What he changed from
earned that respect. It was NOT an easy thing. I don’t know if I’d
have the strength of character to change that way from that kind of
situation.”

“
He put
his life at risk to become a decent man. You don’t possibly
understand how important it has become to me to be a decent person
before I die.

“
I read
that interview with you and that newswoman when you stopped the mob
from killing your friend for his land. You said that everyone
should stop for a moment every morning to ask themselves if this
was what their life and heritage was about. You said that one must
answer to only one person in the universe. You had to meet the eyes
in the mirror when you shave very directly. If you can’t meet those
eyes with some pride you are a piece of shit.