Clint Faraday Mysteries collection A Muddled Murders Collector's Edition

by Moulton, CD

  He started to shrug, then grinned. “You’re pretty damned cool and damned smart! If they have Gordo hit they’ll have to also hit Niko.”

  “All I’m after is to get that kind of slime out of Panamá as fast as I can. If it means using their methods on them I have no hesitation in doing so. Maybe we can make them eliminate most of it themselves, then I can go after the real big man. It still doesn’t make sense if you look at the whole picture. It makes perfect sense one item at the time.”

  “What does that mean?”

  Clint grinned. “You’d better get out of here fast. They’ll be watching that car so it would be damned stupid for you to go anywhere near it.

  “Do you have enough clothes and such to go? You damned well can’t go back to your apartment or house or whatever.”

  “I have more than a thousand balboas in cash. I don’t need anything. Nothing there is worth dying for.”

  Clint nodded and noted a person he’d seen before out on the sidewalk lounging against a newspaper rack. He couldn’t see in because of the tinted glass so Clint had Mano go through the kitchen and out the alleyway behind. A truck was there delivering chicken. Clint put him inside and gave the driver fifteen bucks to take his friend to the airport (where he was headed next, anyway). Mano would walk from the airport to the bus terminal and get the bus to Santiago, then from Santiago to David, then to Puerto Armuelles. He’d get a haircut in Santiago and shave part of his moustache. He’d lighten his coal black hair to a dark brown.

  Then Clint went back to have another coffee. He strolled out after ten minutes to see the one lounging around run to the door and inside – where people would say Mano had left before Clint even ordered coffee. He went back out with some friends who were there.

  Clint made it a point to note who came and went when he was in a place with any such situation. Three people had left just after he came in. The watcher would have to walk past and turn around to not make it obvious he was tailing. There was a fifty-fifty chance he wasn’t close enough to be quite sure Mano wasn’t one of the three.

  Clint thought for a moment, sighed and called the terminal to learn the bus to Chitre left in half an hour. He went to the hotel and then to the terminal three minutes after the bus left. He went to the David bus terminal and caught one to Santiago. He could get a bus at Santiago for Chitre. That might be tough on Mano if he was on that bus.

  He wasn’t.

  “Clint? Judi.” The phone buzzed just before he got to Chitre. He’d been on buses for seven straight hours with only two breaks at Santiago and David. “How are things? You haven’t called in days.”

  “I’m running around the country trying to find who’s behind this stupid mess. How are things in Bocas?”

  “Same as always. Manny says to tell you he thinks you may be looking for a man called Viktor Smednoff. That should clue you as to what you’re getting into and why Paulo seems so anxious to stay distanced from it.”

  “Smednoff? Never heard of him,” Clint said, thinking. This did have the earmarks of the Russian mafia, as they were called in Panamá.

  “That’s the object. He’s supposed to be a representative for a big vodka distributor here. Huge amounts of money move around, but we can’t find more than a few minor shipments. He seems to be in a lot of little businesses as a minor partner. Each of those twenty or more partners put in nine thousand or so dollars and immediately become independent distributors in various places. That’s not a lot, but they then send him very large sums from the businesses. He seems to be treasurer in all of them.”

  “Oh. What are they laundering from?”

  “Manny says they’re mostly into getting money out of Europe and Asia that was paid for arms after the cold war. Thousands of large weapons are unaccounted for. No nuclears, because that would get the attention of too many people. They’re nuts, not stupid.”

  “Thanks, Judi. I’ll have to be a bit more careful than I have been. As you said, they’re nuts.”

  They chatted for a few minutes, then Clint grabbed an hour and a half of sleep until they came into Chitre at ten after seven. He knew the crowd Chino would run with would be around the Tiburon section – so wouldn’t bother looking there. The section they would avoid would be the Zona Alta, the elite section. He would go there and try to blend.

  He found him an hour later in a restaurant where he was trying to act like another one of the crowd and failing miserably. He was edgy and jerky in his movements and looking around at everyone who came in. He was at a table in a corner. When a very fat man with a sexy bimbo came in he slid down in his seat, peered past the menu at them, then sat up.

  Clint watched him for a minute then went back out and to the pension where he was staying. This was a wasted trip. Chino’s type wouldn’t be trusted to know anything at all. He was expecting Gordo to show up in person, something a Gordo wouldn’t do. Period.

  In the morning he headed back to David. Just as they came into town he got another call from Judi who said that there was something very strange going on around his house. Manny had warned Vern that there may be something dangerous going down and he could be misidentified by a hood. He said to have Vern go to her place and he’d be there on the four o’clock flight from David. Judi said he was staying on San Cristóbal at Dave’s little place there to be out of sight.

  Clint walked into La Iguana just after it opened. Vern was to meet him there.

  La Iguana is a surfer bar. Vern liked surfing and water sports and hung around the place. He was quite popular. The water off the deck was clear and deep. Some of the patrons swam there when the mood struck them. Dave was there at happy hour when he was in Bocas, though he didn’t fit the crowd well. He played the guitar there sometimes when he had it with him.

  “Greetings!” Clint greeted. “Is Wanda with you?”

  Vern laughed and said he’d spent one afternoon with Wanda and, believe it or not, had one hell of a lot of fun. Dave said he didn’t mean Frederico? He said he did.

  They talked awhile and Dave pointed at a big black man when he came in. That was the one hanging around Clint’s place.

  Clint went up, introduced himself and asked if he’d found who he was looking for.

  “Daniel Arauz,” he replied. He studied Clint a minute and said, “He’s not here, is he.” It was a statement.

  “It depends on who you’re looking for. Let’s see. Ras is dead. Chino’s hiding. Mano skipped to Colombia. Niko and Gordo are in Panamá City. Vern’s here. He doesn’t have anything to do with that bunch.”

  “Chino’s in Chitre. He could only tie Mano to anything so we don’t bother with such as him. Mano can cause a lot of trouble.

  “Was that you who grabbed Donaldo?”

  “I heard about that. Hanrady. I think he doesn’t have a clue as to what he’s gotten into.

  “He doesn’t, you know.”

  “He drops out of sight at odd times. We wonder what he’s up to. It seems strange that he broke up the deal in Puerto Armuelles, then HAPPENS to be where Naldo gets his head split open and just HAPPENS to know Vito.

  “Vito is a very large pain in the ass to us.”

  “I can respect him for that!”

  Rauz studied him for a few more seconds, said, “Stay out of our way and we’ll stay out of yours.’

  “Far too many people are doing that already. That’s what keeps you in business.

  “Who are you looking for?”

  “Someone who does that. Someone with a big mouth and a small brain. Like you.”

  “You’re dangerously stupid or ... stupid as dirt!”

  “Well, at least my I.Q. is as high as my shoe size while yours is about your neck size.”

  Rauz tensed, looked around, sneered and said they could continue their little discussion later. In private.

  “If you threaten me again I’ll kill you. That’s not a threat. It’s a warning.” He turned his back and went back to the deck with Vern and Dave. They decided to go to Bongos for a seafood dinner,
then to come back to La Iguana. Clint said he was going to meet Judi at El Ultima Refugio for dinner and would see them later. He finished his beer and the three headed to the left. Dave and Vern stopped at Bongos, where Gisela waved at him. He continued on, Rauz coming from behind and staying close to the far side of the street. When he was around past the ferry dock where it wasn’t well-lighted and no one was about, Rauz came silently toward him from the rear. He apparently didn’t notice the light in back made a good shadow for Clint to be prepared when he brought a knife from his belt and reached for him.

  Clint stopped, stepped toward him and brought his elbow toward his face. Clint’s foot was behind him when he tried to step back and he went down. Hard. He started to get up when he got a shoe heel in the face. He groaned and Clint said next time he should bring a few of his friends. Maybe three or four of his type could take Clint, but there was no way one oversized toad was going to even slow him down. He picked up the knife and said he’d give it to the policia later. Rauz could claim it there.

  Clint went on the Refugio for his dinner with Judi and Manny while Rauz held his face and moaned that his nose was broken. After dinner they went back to La Iguana, which was packed. Clint went on down the street to the police station and told Serg that Rauz had dropped it when he fell on his face.

  Serg grinned. “His face a mess?”

  “Well, it always was. It’s a little messier now. He threatened me, Serg, then tried to stick me down by the notary’s office. I kicked his nose into his face and told him that was the last chance to get away easy.”

  Serg grinned again and made out a slip saying that Rauz lost his knife while trying to rob or mug a citizen. Clint went back to La Iguana. It was a fun night. Bastimentos Joe came in with a guitar and played some songs, then Dave played a couple. Clint got a little drunk. Judi said it’s a good thing he’s a happy drunk with all that was going on!

  Clint went out on his deck, dressed as usual in his house in the morning. Nude. He swam off the deck for a few minutes to loosen up, then made his coffee and a two-egg omelet. Waved to Judi Lum on her deck watering and caring for her native orchid collection, then dressed and turned on his comp. There was another e-mail from Batty, asking if he could please come to Puerto Armuelles to try to find out who was doing strange things to him now. He sighed and called Batty. Yvon answered and passed him to Batty, who said he was in his office all night because of the people hanging around his place. Something was happening and he didn’t have a clue as to what and why.

  “Maybe it’s just someone who figured out your scam and wants to cut your throat?”

  There was a silence for a minute, then Batty said, “Okay. So we were running a scam any idiot should be able to see through. Every one of them knew they were getting into something very shady and more than a little dishonest. You could figure that part.”

  “Not Vern, but I won’t argue the point. He came out ‘way ahead, you and Yvon came out ahead. Abel and Downy didn’t lose anything they couldn’t afford. Sally was stupid, but didn’t deserve dying. Arnold maybe did. Monica definitely did. Now there are a few thugs in Panamá City dead. I don’t waste sympathy on the type.

  “I only mention this because you said an idiot could see through your little scam – then you’re stupid enough to deal with that kind of people.

  “Who’s the head man? It’s not Gordo or Niko.”

  “I don’t know. I thought it was Gordo. Now he’s scared to death of someone. If I knew who I could protect myself. I don’t.”

  “I believe that! If you did you’d be as dead as Monica. I think she knew and thought she had protection because she knew. Gordo’s in that sinking boat. You’re in about twenty thousand leagues over your head.”

  “How can I get out of here and disappear? I have four million bucks and will split it with you if you can get me away somewhere I can expect to live for a few years to spend it.”

  “I’ll go to Fron ... Arriba Blanca. The second packing plant. I can get you to Baranquila from there. I have some friends on Sao Paulo where you can disappear. One million to build a clinic on San Cristóbal. Take it or leave it.”

  “Arriba Blanca? They’ll be waiting there! It’s where we were working the ... so I’d never go near there ... so they WON’T look for me there! I could get to San José from there. Why go to Baranquila?”

  “Because, when you disappear from here and they trace you to Arriba Blanca they’ll have every access to San José and Limón covered in ten seconds, maybe?”

  He waited through half a minute of silence until Batty said, “You have a deal! You want cash or transfer?”

  “Cash? There’s that much of that funny-money still around? Direct transfer to Manny.”

  “When do I meet you at the banana packing plant?”

  “Go now. Don’t use the bank there because a certain teller will report it two seconds after you walk in the door. Stop in ... go to Frontera, use the bank there, then walk a few hundred meters toward the station entrance, grab a cab in the ... wait until the next bus for Armuelles comes and get on as it’s leaving, get off past the road to Arriba and walk back and along the road until a banana truck comes by. Flag it down and give the driver fifty bucks to drop you off at plant one. Tell him you’re running from a woman whose brothers are trying to kill you to get your money. He’ll understand that, seeing you’re a gringo. He’ll ask why Arriba Blanca and you can say you can get into Costa Rica on the packers’ road and they can’t get to you there. You’re going back to the states and will never come any nearer than Panamá City again. By then I’ll be there. I can go to David and lose anyone they have following me. I’ll check with Manny before I go on to Arriba from David.”

  “Got you! It’ll be there!”

  Clint sighed again, went to talk with Judi for a few minutes, then called the airport. The plane to David would leave in an hour and a half. He packed and headed for the airport after calling Manny and explaining that he was going to have one million dollars direct-deposited into his account with BNP. The money was for a clinic on San Cristóbal.

  “I’m almost finished building a clinic myself,” Manny replied. “Next project is a school with good teachers for when my own kids are of age?”

  “Done! I’ll be in touch from David. It should be there by then.”

  He made the plane this time with a few minutes to spare. They were in David 45 minutes later. Clint called Manny, who said the money was there. Two million.

  “Two? Oh. Batty said half. That’s what he put in. He doesn’t expect to be able to spend his own two in the rest of his life. He can always run another scam if he needs more.”

  Clint went to the bus station and got the Puerto Armuelles bus. He got off at the Arriba Blanca road and got the local. They were about a half kilometer along the road when the police and an ambulance were blocking the road. It seems a truck had hit a man and woman walking along the road. A Bathner Somebody and an Yvon Somebody. Clint had seen the truck driver in Puerto Armuelles a few times. At El Critico.

  He took Yvon with him? That was a sure way to not make it! What a goddamned stupid asshole IDIOT!

  Well, the school was funded. Batty wouldn’t need his own two million ... probably five or six. He couldn’t get away from the scams now. It wasn’t in his nature.

  “I don’t know, Clint, I swear,” Paulo Lariez said to Clint that night at El Critico. “If I knew I’d tell you that I knew, but I would not tell you who for simple personal safety reasons. I might find a way to let you know without my saying the name or something, but I do not know. It is not Smednoff. That one, I’ve checked.”

  Clint nodded. Paulo was there without a bodyguard. They discussed a bit of philosophy. Paulo said it was the most liberating time of his life. He could actually walk along the streets alone and stop to talk with strangers with no fear. Now the people would protect him from the type of person he used to be. Even Obilio had become a friend. He actually had some people here he could honestly call friends. They were.
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  They talked for almost an hour more. Clint tried to pick out some information Paulo might have from his own ideas about various odd things. Smednoff was definitely not involved to any great extent in this mess. That didn’t mean he didn’t know who was involved. How to get the information from him?

  Smednoff was in Boquete at the moment. That was close enough to David. Most times he was on his private island in the Pacific Ocean between Panamá City and Chitre.

  Marko called and said that Smednoff was using the name Pollack in Boquete. In Boquete he was told that Pollack had left that morning for Cerro Punta. In Cerro Punta he learned that Pollack had gone to Panamá City. He called Vito, who said he had gone back to his private island.

  Well, the scenery was beautiful for all the bus rides! Now to find a way onto that island.

  Clint decided to try a little trick only a few detectives had ever tried to get onto the island. He called Smednoff’s secretary, said he was Clint Faraday and that he wanted to speak with Viktor Smednoff about a private matter.

  The shocked secretary couldn’t believe it! What detective in his right mind would want to speak with Mr. Smednoff on a personal matter?

  She called Viktor, who seemed to think it was hilarious, so said to send him out to the island. He then had to get directions from the secretary.

  After a good lunch, he took a boat out to the island. It was just past low tide, which meant there was a wide and somewhat dirty beach around the three hectare island with the mansion on the top of the low hill. He was escorted to the house by a very large blocky man who introduced himself as Ivan.

  Smednoff was a large blocky man himself, with tons of wavy brownish/grey hair and dark hard eyes. He smoked real Cuban cigars and drank imported real vodka made from potatoes, not grain. He wore loud Hawaiian shorts and loose hibiscus tee shirt. The glass-top table had reams of printed papers in stacks and the computer had hundreds of disks spread around on each stack.

  “Just to impress people,” Viktor explained. “I can do e-mail and like that. Not much else. You would not be impressed. I have girls to do all the actual work. What do you want of me? I find you refreshingly amusing, don’t you see. I am called Viktor. You are called Clint. No one has ever come here with no subterfuge before.”