Clint Faraday Mysteries collection A Muddled Murders Collector's Edition (84 page)

Clint went to find the two in a small room
playing with dolls. He asked them if they were the Ochoa children
Jillie was taking care of. The older one said “Tio Ochoa!
Aqui?”

“
No, pero
tus returno pronto,” Clint answered. He ordered that the children
were to stay there and were not to be allowed to be taken out
unless the police were with them. Then he went to the station, told
the police what he knew and said he would arrange for them to be
taken home. The captain said they wouldn’t be allowed to be taken
anywhere. Clint said he’d better understand which Ochoa was the
uncle they had called for. Ochoa? Colombia?

The captain looked like his eyes would bug
completely out of their sockets. He broke out in a sweat and said,
in a tiny voice, “Ochoa de Colombia? Ayie!” Clint nodded and said
it would be better if the children went home with no questions
asked, no answers given. The captain agreed. Five hundred
percent!

Clint called Manolo and asked him to contact
Ochoa and to have the children returned home. No one there was in
any way involved. He would try to find the ones who were. He would
handle it. Three minutes later he got a call, made an agreement
with the caller where nothing would happen to anyone in Panamá. A
man would be there for the children in about four hours. Clint
agreed to stay there until the person came, but would demand
confirmation he was the one sent. The children had been through
enough.

“
Los
niños se dice quien is correcto, Okay?”

“
Muy
bien.”

“
Then I’m
gonna find Jillie, the doormat!” Clint mumbled.

“
Clint
Faraday, I’m called various things. Carlos is often used. I would
like to speak with you. I am here for the children.”

Clint nodded and said the children would tell
him if he was the proper person to take them home. That was
promised. Carlos nodded in turn and went to the room with
Clint.

“
Tio!”
George squealed and ran to the arms of the man. Clint grinned and
said that was proof enough for him. The girl was there too, being
crushed against Carlos.

“
You will
handle the people responsible for these children being here,”
Carlos said. “Jorge and Linda will be returned to their parents –
one of which is myself. Should you not be able to handle it, I
will. That is to be understood.”

“
You know
who took the kids?”

“
Not as a
sure certainty, but close. I will know within the hour because two
companions are asking questions of people.”

“
You
promised. I’ll expect you to keep that promise.”

“
And I
will. I merely wish to know so that...” His cel phone rang. He
answered it and listened for a minute, grunted, said, “Bien!
Gracias! Ya voy!” and rang off.

“
Alicia
Menendez, using the name of Jillie Baker, abducted the children and
was going to make me pay ten millions of dollars for their return.
Two gringos, a man and a woman, were tricked by her into helping by
treating her badly in public and saying she was a maid and nanny.
She told them she was running away from a man wanted for mass
murder. She took the name from the newspapers. The people are not
bad people and believed her.

“
They are
not bad people, but are very stupid people, but Alicia is very
persuasive. The man has already paid all the price he will be
charged and the woman will live with her stupidity. Alicia has gone
toward Costa Rica. My promise to you does not include but
Panam.”

“
Very
true. I wish you and the children bien viaje.”

“
Thank
you. I think I like and respect you, Clint Faraday. If you ever
need a favor, you need but ask.”

Clint got his boat and headed back to Bocas.
That one could have gotten damned hairy. If those children had been
hurt in any way ... but it turned out pretty good.

Maybe he’d stop by the Zapatillas on his way
back. He could use a lobster for dinner. He had the time.

Clint Faraday Mysteries

#5

Dangerous
Curves

all rights reserved: no part of this
publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any
means, either electronic or mechanical, including photocopy,
recording, or any other information retrieval system, without
permission in writing from the copyright holder/publisher, except
in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or
reviews.

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

Clint flies from Panamá City to Bocas del
Toro where a beautiful woman flirts with him. He makes a date with
her for that night. Strange things start to happen around him,
there is a murder – that she seems to be mixed up in, somehow

Contents

Trash and Treasures

Drizzly Day

Nice Day

Weird Day

Dark Day

Off Center Day

Busy Day

Deadly Day

Family Day

Dangerous Curves

What to Do

Night Driving

Famously Assholes

Trash and Treasures

Drizzly Day

It was a bit drippy when Clint Faraday,
retired detective from Florida, boarded the plane in Panamá City
for the flight to Bocas Town on Isla Colón. The rain had stopped
and it was going to soon turn into a nice enough day, now that he
was leaving.

Well, Judi (Lum, neighbor) said it was nice
in Bocas. He would get home early enough to enjoy a couple of hours
of the afternoon.

He was seated just in front of the wing,
window seat. Next to him was a rather attractive – well, a
knockout, really – woman of about twenty six or eight years.
Fantastic shape, about 5'8", reddish mahogany hair past her
shoulders, green eyes, perfect teeth, even medium tan.

She smiled and said her name was Gina. Gina
Halverson. She was Colombian, not a gringo, though both her parents
were from the states. She was a secretary to a semi-politician,
lawyer and stock dealer, among other things. She had a job in Bocas
Town that started in the morning. A stock and real estate dealer
she knew from Colombia. He had worked with her father, though she
didn’t know him well or much about him.

Clint introduced himself, said he was a
gringo – at the moment.

“
At the
moment?”

“
As soon
as I can, I’ll become Panameño. I love this place.”

“
I can
see why. It’s beautiful. I really like the people, though some of
them can be pains in the ass.”

Clint laughed. “Yeah. Some of any people can
be pains in the ass. I particularly like the Indios. They’re very
real people.”

“
I tend
to like the indigenos in Colombia. They are, as you say, people who
are very real. I know I’ll like you. We share a philosophy. The
ones who I can’t stand here and anywhere else are the arrogant
bigots. They too seldom have anything to be arrogant
about.”

“
Well,
seeing as we are destined to like each other, maybe I can show you
around Bocas this evening?”

“
THAT, I
think, would be very ... pleasant.”

They talked about a number of things. Clint
found she agreed with him in most things. It was going to be a
great evening. He could feel it.

Nice Day

It was as nice in Bocas as Judi had promised,
Clint noted as he disembarked. It would be a little hot – this was
the tropics – but there was a steady breeze off the Caribbean, so
it would be comfortable if he didn’t overdress. He helped Gina get
to the Bahia, then went home to be greeted by Judi. She said things
were as she liked them. Slow and calm. Even the tourists seemed to
be in a good mood.

Judi is an attractive oriental woman who had
been friends with Clint since he moved next door to her five years
ago. She had been a great help in some of his cases. She was one of
the four people in Panam who knew who Manny Mathews was. (Marko
Boccini, a major mafia don from the states who had moved there to
escape what he was and to raise a family who wouldn’t be ashamed of
how Pops made his.)

Clint told her about the strange things his
last case was still turning up. She told him all the gossip from
Bocas. Same old same old, except the Wild Bill had been caught and
was the reason some of their friends had disappeared over the last
few years. They both knew him slightly from seeing him around Bocas
and in David and Volcan. “They’ve dug up five bodies already. We
knew them all.”

Clint shook his head. You’d think a detective
would have noticed something about him other than his tendency to
overreact to some things. If Clint had checked on him he would have
found he was wanted in the states for years.

You live
and learn, then you die. Sometimes,
or
you die.

Clint told Judi about Gina. Judi said he
seemed awfully focused on her. Was she going to turn him into a
boring one-woman man? (Clint was known as a good time, but no
commitments type.)

“
She’s
half my age. I’d consider it, I think. We get along on a different
level than I’m used to.”

Judi laughed and shook her finger at him.
“Slow down, Don Juan! You aren’t in Kansas anymore, you know!”

“
Thank
whatever gods may be!” Clint said and gave her the one finger
salute.

Clint laid around, went through his e-mail,
then got ready and went to pick up Gina, who was overdressed. He
told her that would be too hot. People don’t dress up for much of
anything in Bocas. She sighed and said that was too much to hope
for. She’d be right back! She went back inside and came out a few
minutes later in a light skirt and top. She’d also undone her hair
and tied it up. Her heels were gone and she had on the same kind of
footwear that Clint was wearing. Sandals (Changcletas, here)

They went to El Ultima Refugio for a
fantastic meal, then walked around a bit. They stopped various
other places for Clint to introduce his friends. Everyone said Dave
(his nutty author/musician friend) was playing at the Lemon Grass,
so they went there. Dave was an ex-rock guitarist who now did all
kinds of music. All the local musicians came and went. It was a
great night. While Rob was doing a couple of Dead numbers Dave came
to be introduced. He introduced Selma, a woman he had dated in the
states who was visiting. She had never been to Panamá or Bocas and
was thinking of staying. It was a paradise! Dave had lived with her
in Florida a bit and she could stay at his place until she decided
whether she preferred Bocas, Puerto Armuelles, Chitre, David or
wherever.

“
Won’t
that interfere with your open sex life?” Clint asked
innocently.

“
Not
really. My sex life is almost nonexistent anymore,” Dave fired
back.

“
Oh. I
thought you and Bobby had a bit of a thing,” Clint replied, still
oh-so-innocently.

Dave wasn’t going to be outdone. “And?” He
was a close friend of Bobby, a known gay man, as was Clint. Even
though such things weren’t thought much about here, Clint doubted
Dave would be interested ... still?

Selma caught on. “Oh, we don’t put silly
limitations on each other. I have my thing, he has his. The only
thing that’s set in stone is that we don’t either one bring
something home like AIDS or a couple of others. You won’t live long
enough for THAT to kill you!”

They laughed about it and talked about Wild
Bill a bit. He knew Dave better than he knew Clint. Dave had always
said there was something a little scary about him, but what had
happened was beyond anything considered. They talked about the new
businesses in town (most of which would be gone in six months) and
Dave went back to do a few numbers. He would be playing at Lily’s
Saturday.

Clint went home. Gina went with him. She said
she really liked his friends, so far. They seemed as natural as the
Indios. She thought Dave was a lot better musician than you’d
expect to meet in such a place.

“
You
wouldn’t believe who comes here.” He told her about a few of the
people Dave played with and for back in the late sixties, such as
Janis Joplin.

It was a perfect night. Clint was up at five
thirty and was laying in the lounge on his deck with coffee to
watch the sunrise. Gina came out and said she would fix some
breakfast. What did he want?

“
Hojaldres and coffee and maybe some bolitas,” Clint
replied. “We can walk into town and get something at Don Chichos or
Chitres.”

“
I make
hojaldres and the coffee’s made. You have ground meat for the
bolitas?”

Clint told her where to find everything and
said she didn’t have to cook.

“
Why not?
I do every morning at home,” she replied. “I usually don’t care for
the hojaldres in the cafés. They make them with too much sugar and
get them too soft or too hard. Panameños use too much
salt.”

She even liked the same cooking as Clint!

They sat around after the truly delicious
breakfast for a few minutes, then Clint made chicha from a
guanabana he’d bought from an Indio who came to his dock with
anything special. Gina had never tasted it before and said it was
the most delicious fruit drink she’d ever tasted!