Clint Faraday Mysteries collection A Muddled Murders Collector's Edition (34 page)

Clint sighed and told Downy and Abel he had
to go. A little problem in David. He went to the hotel, packed and
headed for the David bus.

Gringos

Clint met Travis, who said the bunch were
having their lunch at Hotel Bocas del Toro. He went to the popular
hotel on the water to stroll out onto the deck over the water. The
view was nice and there was a light breeze. He greeted the
attractive girls who waited tables and went to sit next to the
covered raised eating area tables where the six were seated. After
a few minutes and ordering a chicken sandwich – the Bocas had a
very good chicken sandwich and the rest of the menu was more than
just ordinary – a local lawyer came with a thick briefcase to join
the group. He immediately announced that he had an investigation
started into the business and had drawn up the papers for the S.A.
It would be registered as an investment group with all legal
matters to be handled by the third vice president, him. He said the
idea was great and he was very happy they had chosen to allow him
to buy in on the deal. They soon had him speaking quietly enough
that Clint couldn’t hear. He took the sandwich, paid and left. He
found Travis and asked about the lawyer. Short, a bit fat, longish
black hair, cheap suit that was supposed to look expensive,
expensive shoes, lots of flashy jewelry.

“
That’s
Nato Esperanza. He’s in on whatever they’re doing. He’s going to
ream them a new asshole, I guarantee. He’ll find a way to get into
the deal and’ll make so much in legal fees they won’t get anything
for themselves.”

Clint nodded. Too many like that here.

“
Travis,
manage to meet me just by the gate as they come out and ask me how
things are in Puerto Armuelles.”

Travis grinned.

Travis pushed his hat up and started walking
toward the hotel. Clint came from the direction of The Pirate to
meet him as they came abreast of the hotel just as the six were
coming out. Travis called, “Yo, amigo? How are things in Puerto
Armuelles? When did you get back?”

“
Just an
hour ago. Things are always calm in Armuelles. Some kind of major
scam in the works, but there always are there.

“
How has
Bocas been?”

“
Never
changes. Same old same old.”

They chatted about the Pacific this time of
year until the group passed, then Clint went on to wave at Carlos,
Alex and Martin at La Iguana. It wasn’t open this early, but they
were working inside. The group were standing there looking around
and pointing three directions so he asked if they were looking for
something specific.

“
A bar
called Bumfark’s or something like that?” one of them
answered.

“
Bohmfalk’s? I’m heading there right now. You can go
straight ahead and turn right at the first block or to the right
and turn left at the first block.”

“
Oh? May
we join you?” a woman asked. “I mean, if you’re going there
anyhow...?”

“
Most
certainly! Welcome! I’m Clint Faraday, retired detective and beach
bum.”

“
Detective? I’m Millie O’Reilly and that’s my old man, Walt.
George and Della Francis, Gene Burton, Hank Sommers.

“
I think
I heard the black man say you were from Puerto Armuelles? We might
go there. I’ve heard it’s a very nice quaint little
place.”

“
Yes.
It’s picturesque and serene. They’re ing to build a refinery in the
area so see it now before the developers get in to destroy
everything there is to go there for.”

“
Oh? Put
up a lot of cheap tract houses and that sort of thing?” Hank
asked.

“
McDonald’s, TGIF, KFC, Wendy’s, a bank on every corner, a
halfassed mall, traffic snarls, a lot of crime. Might as well stay
where you came from. They’ll have the view of the Pacific, but that
will be all. It’ll be another tourist trap, just like any other in
the world.

“
Here’s
Bohmfalk’s. Bill! How’re things?”

“
What a
question! The same as they always are in Bocas,” Bill answered
happily. “Gringos? Where are you from?”

Clint introduced everyone and went to say
hello to Sharon, then headed out. George called that they could at
least buy him a beer, so he said he had an appointment – in half an
hour, so he’d take him up on that. Balboa.

He went back inside and they sat at a table
to chat. Della managed to ask a few odd questions about Puerto
Armuelles. He gave noncommittal answers and they agreed to meet at
the Lemon Grass for dinner – their treat.

The Lemon Grass is a Thai-style restaurant
close to the Bocas del Toro hotel. He said that would be great.
Seven? Seven thirty?

Clint went home to clean up and change. He’d
have an hour and a half to get back to town. Judi said some people
had been to his house. Gringos. They saw her and asked where he
was. She told them she thought he was in David.

His house had been searched a little bit more
professionally than the hotel room in Puerto Armuelles.
Interesting. He took the flash drive from the comp – that recorded
everything there through three small video cameras activated by
sonic and motion detectors. He didn’t recognize anyone except Art
Smith, a black who was always a bit shady. He was more or less
showing the others around the house. So far as Clint knew he’d
never been there before. Maybe before the cameras were installed
two months ago. He seemed to know his way around the place.

The others were fairly clear except for one
man who managed to always be where there wasn’t a clear view. He
also wore a hat and dark glasses.

He went to meet his new friends at the Lemon
Grass. Seven twenty five. Paul, a local guitarist/ singer was
setting up. Mike, another popular local entertainer, was going to
join him. Some jazz, some US folk music. Both were excellent.

The group were at a long table on the deck
over the water. Clint went to greet them and to be introduced to
Dan Washington, another gringo they’d met in Bohmfalk’s after he
left earlier. Clint couldn’t be sure, but he could be the one who
was never seen clearly in the videos from his house.

“
Well!
And how are things doing today?” Gene Burton asked.

“
Same old
routine. I’ve been away for a few days and someone searched my
house. I have it on camera. Only one I recognized was a local. Not
good pictures. A bit fuzzy so I’ll have to get better
cameras.

“
Stupid
as hell! Any detective worth the name isn’t going to leave anything
around the house to be found!

“
Ah. The
seafood curry is really good here.”

Dan Washington looked very uncomfortable, but
the subject changed and he soon seemed normal. The look of
discomfort told Clint he was the one at the house.

It was a
pleasant evening. They discussed any number of random subjects, not
too much about money or investments. Millie O’Reilly did get on
about the high price of gasolene and how a new supply just HAD to
be found. Clint suggested there was plenty of modern hydroelectric
power generation in Panam
á
being
developed and mass transportation had the price of gasolene at a
usable level, if a bit high. The new refinery would probably help
there.

“
But the
crude source will still be the Arabs and Venezuela and those
places,” Walter pointed out. “THAT’S the point that has prices at
those ridiculous levels now! New sources are a must!”

“
Or new
technology that doesn’t depend on oil,” Clint replied off-handedly.
That got some hard and strange looks. This bunch was NOT interested
in other energy sources or the environment. Not a thought to
that!

The rest of the night was pleasant
enough.

“
Clint!
Turn your phone on!” Judi called when he went out onto the deck
with his coffee. He’d forgotten he’d turned it to
silent.

“
What’s
up?” he called back.

“
Somebody
was killed last night – or this morning. About an hour and a half
ago. I think Serg finds it a bit strange, seeing he was one of
those borderline wanabe thugs from Bastimentos. You expect that
bunch to get murdered, but this doesn’t seem to fit the pattern or
something.”

He waved and went in to call Sergio, the
local policia friend, who said it looked like Art Smith was there
to meet someone who stabbed him directly through the heart.

“
Art
Smith? I see. Made to look like an execution or
mugging?”

“
More
like a mugging, but his watch and forty three dollars were still
there. That bunch? They would have even taken those fancy sneakers
he wore. Definitely the gold chain.”

Clint told him about the trouble with the
Smith family in Puerto Armuelles. “Those are the Colón Smiths, not
the ones here.”

“
I know.
Smith is a very common name in Panamá,” Serg agreed. “On the other
hand, a lot of people on Bastimentos have family in Colón.” They
chatted a bit more about how tourism was bringing in far too many
of those thugs.

So. Tell Dan Washington about recognizing a
local thug in those videos and the local character ends up
dead.

He showered and shaved, dressed in his normal
clothes and went to the Hotel Bocas del Toro for breakfast. The
bunch were there, discussing a trip to some local places. He had
come up on them while Hank Sommers was saying they had to get to
Puerto Armuelles very soon or they wouldn’t get in on the deal.
When he came up behind him Millie gave Hank a look and smiled up at
Clint to wish him a good morning. She said they were planning a
little trip to maybe Boquete or Volcan and would they be better off
flying or taking a bus.

“
I like
the bus. It’s a beautiful trip. Go to Almirante and catch a bus to
David. You can go anywhere from David. The Boquete bus is only
three or four dollars. I’ll probably be going to David this
afternoon or tomorrow. I have a little job there. A scam – but
they’re everywhere, anymore.”

He said he had an appointment, so would have
to excuse himself. He was walking out when Dan Washington was
coming in, looking a bit worse for wear. He stopped to chat a
moment. Dan said he’d been up most of the night. His girlfriend was
accusing him of seeing someone else.

“
She from
the states or here?”

“
Oh,
here. I don’t have anyone serious enough in the states to bring
along.”

“
Fast
worker! How do you get them that possessive in just two days? You
did say you just got here day before yesterday last night, I
believe?”

“
Er. She
was here ... I mean, I met her two weeks ago in Panamá City. She’s
the sister of a friend in the, er, real estate business, you
see.”

“
Oh.
Still pretty fast work! Don’t let them get serious like that or
they make life hell. They get their claws in a gringo and only
think about a car and fancy house.

“
Well, I
have to meet a friend I’m doing a little job for. Have a nice
day!”

He walked away.

So. Dan killed Art himself. He should get a
medal for that and should get offed for whatever scheme they were
working.

How much were these people going to be
screwed out of? Were there really that many gullible people
around?

He got the flight to David. He had half an
hour to get to the airport so rushed home to throw some things into
a backpack. He got to the flight about five minutes before it took
off. They held the plane a couple of minutes for security to check
his bag, then he got on. Two hours later he was on the bus to
Puerto Armuelles. He checked into the hotel as Denton Hanrady, his
favorite disguise. This time he had it on completely and right. No
one in Puerto Armuelles would be able to recognize more than some
resemblance.

Yeah right! Obilio saw him coming in and
asked why the disguise. He explained that the gringos weren’t to
know he was there. Obi said only a few of his closer Indio friends
would know.

“
How did
YOU know? I thought this was a pretty good act.”

“
I think
only Indios will notice. We don’t look for the same things. Your
ears with the little notch on top of the right. The way you step
down from the bus. You sort of favor your right leg. The scar on
your right eyelid.

“
Did you
have an accident? Everything’s on the right side.”

“
A
motorcycle accident twenty some-odd years ago. It did some damage.
I didn’t even know about the scar on my eyelid! Thanks, Obi. My
next disguise, even you won’t see through.”

He laughed. “We’ll see!”

They were talking when Sam Downy and Frank
Abel came by so he made it a point to be asking Obilio where a good
hotel was. Obi said he was in a good hotel now. He said he thought
there were more modern hotels there with casinos and that kind of
thing. He slipped some papers out of his thick briefcase that
looked very much like stock certificates and prospectus documents,
almost dropped them, sighed, centered them and slipped them back
into the briefcase.

“
In
David. Not here. You can go to El Critico at night. They have a
casino, bar and restaurant. It’s an expensive
whorehouse.”

“
Any good
deals for investment here?” Clint asked when Downy and Abel were
close.

“
Depends
on what you want,” Obilio answered. “I suppose there are things
that would interest gringos. Land deals and that kind of
thing.”