Clint Faraday Mysteries collection A Muddled Murders Collector's Edition

by Moulton, CD

  “Then I can handle it. I’ll need someone GOOD at protecting people in Panamá City. I’ll also need to know where to go to let some little things slip out. By accident or association.”

  “Association?”

  “If two and two are added and you get the answer as being six that’s because you don’t understand simple addition,” Clint replied with a smirk.

  Manny gave him the finger.

  “George Mortendahl?” Clint asked the slight man in a rumpled suit with a pink carnation in the shirt’s pattern.

  “I ain’t done nothin’!” he whined. “I ain’t never even said nothin’ to you!”

  Clint laughed. He could spot the condition of the person under those loose clothes. He was trained for that.

  “We have to go to a place called Karpy’s to get a little drunk on vodka – or I do. You have to be there because I bought you a beer and you can maybe con me out of another one – or preferably rum,” Clint instructed. “When I’m a little wasted you can happen to ask me what I’m doing in Panamá and I’ll say what has to be said, then we can go to Moppie’s Bar out in the burbs to get a bit drunker and run my alligator mouth a little more, then back to the Hotel California.”

  He nodded. They got a cab and headed for Karpy’s.

  “Wha...? Oh, I’m looking for this guy who has some information about someone else. I want to know who’s behind something else and why and he’s the only one who can give it ... it’s none of your business!”

  “Who?” he asked.

  “A guy who delivered something to me. He has to know who sent it, see? It’s none of your business! I just bought you a damned beer, for Christ’s sake. I didn’t hire you for a consultant in the detective business!”

  “Maybe I know where to find him. Got a name?”

  “Jim Blanchard.”

  “Never heard of him.”

  “I’m out of here! I have to get him here in Panamá. If he leaves I can’t ... It’s none of your business!”

  He went out to a cab. The bum got in with him and he was heard saying he wasn’t about to pay for some beggar to ride in anymore cabs.

  Moppies was much the same routine, but Clint kept saying he had to get him here in Panamá or he couldn’t use the pressure he had.

  They went back to the Hotel California where Clint yelled he was sure as hell not going to get any room for some beggar and no beggar was going to stay in his room! He stormed off with Mortendahl smirking at his back. Mortendahl flashed a twenty at the guy at the desk and went out front to ask another gringo for a cigarette.

  “What did you do?” Jim asked on the phone the next morning. “I’ve been instructed to not be seen anywhere for awhile. There’s a hint I should get out of Panamá. How do I handle it?”

  “Whine about having too much business here,” Clint suggested. “If you can be found anywhere it won’t matter anyhow. I’ve left a seed that I have to get to you in Panamá or I won’t have any leverage. You can tell them Marko may have told me something that wouldn’t make a difference except here. Maybe proof that you paid off an official for someone else. Presidente Torrijos is really cracking down on bribes and corruption. That won’t be shit anywhere but Panamá. You won’t dare to come back here for at least seven years.” He told him a few more ideas, then went back out to be seen trying to find Jim. Jim was at the condominium, but Clint didn’t know which unit or even which floor. He’d be hanging around the lobby a lot. Jim could sneak out through the service elevator to the garage and be out of Panamá before Clint could stop him.

  That worked. Jim said he’d gotten them to help him get away to his plane and he was leaving Panamá. He wouldn’t be back.

  Clint headed back to Bocas. On the bus he spotted the one following him. He acted almost crazy because some damned crooked scumbag gave him the slip and had the nerve to call him and gloat. He would get his ass if it’s the last thing he ever did.

  Now to work on getting the Ruskie gangs after each other. He was slowly formulating a plan. Manny would be able to make part of it work and Judi would make the rest work.

  “Clint, do me a favor,” Manny asked. “Don’t get more involved in this. Drop it.”

  “I’m going to get them after each other,” Clint said. “I won’t do anything they’ll come after me for. It’s going to already be out before it would do them any good to come after me and there won’t be any revenge part because it was innocent remarks.”

  Manny studied him a minute, then shook his head. “I hope it’s like you figure it. Almost nothing here is. Be very damned careful.

  “Okay. What?”

  “I have to know who to have the remarks overheard by is all. You and Judi can be with me somewhere and we can handle it. Apparently, all Jim could do would be to finger two people and link them to a new bunch who want to take over in Panamá. Can I help it if no one ever told me about anything except that Jim had information that I could use? I innocently came across two names and followed them while I was in Panamá and they met with these other people I never heard of and I’m damned pissed that Jimmy boy got out before he could connect the dots, kind sir.”

  Manny thought for a minute and nodded. “It could start a war!” he warned.

  “In Panamá City. Among them,” Clint pointed out.

  “Oh! I’ve been here in Panamá City before, so I know where to shop and all that,” Judi said four days later in the lobby of the Hotel California. Clint had been there for three days and nights being seen around various places. Places where two people in particular were at the time.

  “You and Syl go shopping and Clint and I will take care of some business,” Manny suggested. “We can go to the bank and work out the trust fund he’s establishing for the Indios’ education. It was great that those people gave him the money. Not many would trust someone they’d met only a few times in a bar with five million dollars! He could keep it and give them the old finger.”

  “Oh, Clint wouldn’t do that. He isn’t after money,” Judi said. “Now ME ... could I do some shopping on five mil? You’d better believe it!

  “Let’s go up the Via Espania to the better shops to look around, then we can go down the other way and get the same things at half price or less.” She and Sylvia went out joking about the difference in prices in only six blocks.

  Clint and Manny took the bank check to HSBC and made a fund that would be administered by an Indio friend from Isla San Cristóbal, then went back to be seen in a couple of places, then to the hotel to get ready for dinner. Seeing the hotel restaurante is excellent and the four people who were getting in the way following them were hanging around downstairs that would work out perfectly. Manny had discovered there were two major Russian gangs in Panamá City who were getting more and more suspicious of each other. Clint suggested the new two would have hints to be used to make them even more suspicious of what the other was doing. If a new bunch was coming in to join with one of them it would throw the balance of power way off – so eliminate the new group and handle the other, who would be royally pissed. Seeing they wouldn’t know who was trying to throw in with this upstart group ... they would do the same thing with some other group sooner or later, so stop that foolishness now any way you can. My group isn’t in it so the other one has to be.

  Clint, Judi, Sylvia and Manny looked over the tables in the restaurante and chose the one with a table to either side that was unoccupied. Very soon two men and a woman sat at one table and two men at the other. They chatted awhile, then Judy suddenly said, “Oh, Clint! Did you find out anything about that man you were trying to find?”

  “Chekov and Kreniev?” Clint answered. “I followed them around a bit. They were always meeting with some bigtime Russian mafia types. I was never where I could hear much. One of them said something about taking over some business or other and those two would make the difference with their associates. They would end up with some kind of monopoly on something or other. They talked mostly in Russian, but I had a girl I know along who speaks
it fairly well. I had to trace back from when Blanchard was here to see who he met, but there’s not much to find. Seems he was the secretive sort.

  “Aren’t these about the best camarones al ajillo you ever tasted?”

  They chatted a bit about the food. Manny said he’d checked on the people Chekov and friend met with – with Marko’s help – and it was some big mafia don or something as bad. Russian mafia. Smirnoff and Karpov or somebody like that. It would be a good idea to drop it. Those people were crazy. Marko told him that a year ago. Later they mentioned that Chekov and friend had gone to see the bigshit mafioso several times and seemed to have some kind of deal because they looked so smug and self-satisfied when they left. All Clint heard that last time was something in Russian. Lisa, his girlfriend of the moment, spoke a little Russian and said they said it was done and was going to work out better than something or other. She didn’t catch that. They were talking about getting some people from Russia to come here to manage things or something – and wasn’t that flan different than anything they’d had anywhere else?

  The woman on one table got up and went out, then a man from the other did the same. Manny hid a grin.

  They soon decided to go stroll around a bit and hit the sack. It was back to Bocas in the morning.

  The woman came to them and asked if he was Clint Faraday from Bocas del Toro. He said he was.

  “My friend, Edouard Barkoff, would like a word with you, if you would be so kind. It will only take a moment. He will come here and see you in the bar?”

  “Okay. Fifteen minutes. I think I’ve heard the name. Russian mafia?”

  “That’s only a stupid rumor. He is simply an astute businessman and some are jealous, so start stories.”

  Clint said he would be there.

  A few minutes later a man called the room and said Gregor Smindrev would like a word. Clint pulled the same routine and said he’d be in the hotel bar in an hour. He had another meeting first.

  Manny said to be careful. These people didn’t play games.

  “Mr. Faraday? I’m Ed Barkoff,” the bullish man greeted. There were some other Russians sitting at tables and at the bar. Mortendahl was flirting with a barmaid at the end of the bar.

  “Clint,” he returned. “What can I do for you?”

  “You were overheard saying that a Mr. Chekov met with some other people who are reputed to be in the mafia?”

  “Well, I was following him for another reason and he met with several people who are reputed to be in the mafia. I don’t care. I was looking for something else and that just happened. There’s a person who has some information I want who has supposedly left Panamá and I thought that might be a cover story. I suspect he’s still here in Panamá somewhere. I hoped they’d lead me to him.”

  “Would one of those people be known by the name of Smirndrev?”

  Clint stiffened, looked suspicious and said he would never give that kind of information to anyone who didn’t hire him to find it. That would be unethical. Barkov said he understood and wouldn’t further pry into his business. He soon left. Coincidentally, so did six other Russian-looking men and two women. Mortendahl grinned at him.

  “Ah! Mr. Faraday, I presume? I’m Gregor.”

  “Clint. What can I do for you?”

  “I was informed you were overheard speaking of a Mr. Chekov and a Mr. Kreniev earlier in the evening. They met with reputed mafia figures. I am sometimes accused of being in cahoots with those people – falsely, I assure you – and wondered if perhaps one was Edouard Barkov?”

  Clint stiffened, looked suspicious and said he would never give that kind of information to anyone who didn’t hire him to find it. That would be unethical.

  “I see,” he said with a grim look. “I apologize for the presumption, but merely wished to be sure it wasn’t with the person who people sometimes claim is my business associate. He is NOT!

  “Again, I apologize for my lack of sense in asking. I know it was out of line. I merely wish to protect my own reputation. I wish you a pleasant good evening.”

  “What’s going on?” Clint asked as Smirndrev stood. “I wasn’t interested in any of that. All I was doing was looking for a person who has some information – perhaps about the Russian mafia, but I don’t know that. I was only following them because I hoped they’d lead me to him. He’s supposed to be gone, but I suspect he’s still in Panamá.”

  “Would that be James Blanchard? I can assure you he is no longer in Panamá. He’s made some very powerful enemies and will never return here or he might never leave alive. I assure you this is true. He is one who once said I was with the mafia so I had him watched. I am not the one who he fears. I would merely bring a suit against him for slander. That is very important and very criminal in Panamá today.”

  Clint laughed. “Too true! You can get three years for slander and only two for armed robbery!

  “I suppose I’ll have to accept that he’s beyond my reach – but he’d BETTER never come back!

  “Good night.”

  “Okay, we can go back to Bocas this morning,” Clint said. “I think this is taken care of.”

  “Better than you may think. Did you watch the news this morning?”

  “I did,” Judi said. “Big gang shoot-out in the barrio. Seven or eight dead, minimum. Police are expecting retaliations.”

  The next ten days had regular gang wars in Panamá City. Two Russian gangs were decimated. Among the dead were Chekov and Kreniev. And a Smirndrev.

  The police hoped this would end the crime spree that was giving Panamá city a bad reputation.

  “Well, you never cease to amaze me!” Manny greeted when Clint came into Bohmfalk’s on the last night of the gang wars. “If I were still in the business I’d be packing up and heading as far from Panamá as I could get!”

  “Well, I had to do SOMEthing!” Clint aped. “It seems they only have one gang to watch anymore – and that one is a lot smaller and weaker than the old ones.”

  “It won’t take long for another bunch to move in,” Judi warned. “Maybe you can keep all the new ones out if they think they’ll end up dead.”

  “Not that bunch! Sharon! A Balboa, por favor!”

  Dave came in with Paul. They had their guitars, so it might turn into a fun night!

  But then, most of them were here in paradise.

  Clint Faraday Mysteries #2

  Daybreak

  © 2008 & 2014 by C. D. Moulton

  all rights reserved: no part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, 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. Any resemblances to persons or events is purely incidental unless otherwise stated

  Clint wakes up to another day in paradise. Everything is as perfect as it gets – except for that red sky.

  “Red sky in morning, sailors take warning.”

  Well, that doesn’t mean much here in Panamá. There are a lot of colorful sunrises.

  Then, again....

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblances to actual persons are totally coincidental.

  Then again....

  contents

  Red Sky in Morning

  Puerto Armuelles

  Batty Steps In

  Something Strange

  What’s Going On?

  Gringos

  Accident My Ass!

  Can’t Trust Nobody

  Life on a Bus

  Who Needs It?

  Daybreak

  Red Sky in Morning

  Clint Faraday awoke to a light breeze blowing in from the east through the window to the deck. He glanced out to see Julio Guerra going by toward the research institute on the point, but the Caribbean was calm this time of year and the little breeze made only small ripples in patches on the s
urface of Saigon Bay. It was a perfect day, but the red sky to the east meant probably a bit of rain later. It would be light and warm, so most would ignore it.

  William Raspette went by with a boatload of surfers. As dead calm as the Caribbean was at the moment meant they would lay around on the beach at Boca del Drago until the rain got close enough to make some waves. Probably an hour or so.

  Clint stretched and went to the bathroom to rinse and such, then went into the kitchen to put on coffee. He decided to whip up a quick batch of cinnamon pancakes.

  He quickly sliced into the large guanabana fruit, dropped a couple of cups of the delicious white fruit into the blender, added a bit of sugar and a cup of milk, a cup of ice, and made a delicious chicha. Perfect.

  From here, he could see Judi Lum on her deck, working with the vast array of local orchids the people brought her. There were hundreds of natural varieties growing in the area. She planted them on driftwood and always had a few dozen in bloom. The “Lady of the Night” orchid that was all along the coast was as much as ever-blooming here in its natural habitat. It had a sweet fragrance at night – which was why the name.

  Judi saw him and waved, wagging a finger at him. He didn’t bother to wear anything at home until he’d had his breakfast or if he had company. She always did the “naughty-naughty” wag at him. He grinned, waved back and went in to see what e-mail had come during the night. Nothing, for a change.

  Dave, the local eccentric author/musician, went to Judi’s deck in a cayuca (local Indio dugout boat) to hand her several orchids and a bromeliad or two. He was doing a study of them to be able to teach some students from the University of Panamá classification. He saw Clint and waved, then held up an anthurium with a big white and purple flower. He’d found one in the mountains and had gone back to see if there were more. He never took a plant unless it was in danger of dying, anyhow, or if there were a lot of them.