Clint Faraday Mysteries Collection B :This Job is Murder Collector's Edition

by Moulton, CD

  “That seemed to anger the one in some way. I can’t imagine why.

  “Anyhow, I thought you should know.”

  “Are the two still there?”

  “Yes. They were right here ten minutes ago.”

  “Thanks, friend. I’ll manage to come there to shop or something in a little bit. Maybe I’ll accidentally meet them and be able to see what the hell they want – and why.”

  They chatted a few minutes about everyday things, then Clint hung up and put a few thing in his boat. Judi came out on her deck and waved. He called that he was going to Chiriqui Grande. Did she want to go?

  She said she’d be ready in five minutes,

  He chatted on the way about what was going on in Panamá. He wouldn’t mention why he was going to Chiriqui Grande so she wouldn’t let it slip that he was there for any specific purpose.

  Judi? What? He had slipped a cog? Judi Lum would let something slip?

  “What’s it about, Clint? You were in Chiriqui Grande yesterday, then suddenly want to go shopping there today?”

  He told her. He said the guy was weird enough, but a standard type of weird. He was damned curious as to why anyone would be after him. Particularly with a lame excuse like terrorism in Bocas del Toro, Panamá. She was the best he’d met at getting information by acting like she wasn’t the least interested in whatever.

  They came into the dock where Moises was working on his cayuca. He was adjusting the injectors on his motor.

  “Injectors? On a twenty five horsepower outboard?” Judi asked.

  “Maybe that’s why I can’t seem to get it adjusted just right! It doesn’t have injectors!” he replied.

  They joked a bit. Moises said the two were at the hotel, still asking about Emanuel. He had the word out that it would be a good idea if they had a lot of trouble finding him.

  “He took the bus to Changuinola. He wanted to visit some of the smaller pueblas to learn the real way of life of the people. I suppose he got off at Rio Uyama or Norteno.”

  “Point them out to me where they can’t see. I’ll manage to run into them somewhere,” Judi suggested.

  “They’re hard to miss,” Moises replied. “The two big morenos with lots of flashy jewelry. Suits – and you can tell they don’t wear suits in whatever they really do. At the hotel.”

  Judi grinned and said she’d give Clint a ring if she learned anything. She strolled toward the hotel. Clint thought a bit and said to have someone suggest Emanuel went to see Valle de Aguas. There was a tiny chance he got off there, but it was a very unlikely destination.

  He went into the town and chatted with a couple of people, then happened to be passing the little restaurant across the street from the hotel when Judi came out with two big blacks. One of them kept trying to paw at her, but she was expert in avoiding that! She saw Clint and waved. Clint waved back and went into the restaurant. She brought the two over and introduced Roberto Smith and his cousin, Willie Silva, from Panamá City, working in immigration for the government looking for a suspected drug smuggler.

  “Drug smuggler? I thought ... didn’t Jorge say ... terrorist?” Clint asked innocently.

  “Oh! Er, we just said that to get information. The truth is, seeing you’re a gringo, he was trying to assassinate President Martinelli. We’re trying to find him to deport him back to, uh, Canada.”

  “Isn’t it exciting!” Judi cried. “He’s the one you were telling me about that sat next to you on the bus and tried to convert you to that silly cult or whatever!”

  The two exchanged looks. Willie looked like he just got a fist in the gut.

  “That nut? He didn’t try to assassinate anybody. He wouldn’t have the spine to kill a mouse in the kitchen.”

  “Er, I guess we’ll have to level with you. He absconded with more than a million dollars of church money. It was for a fund for construction, now we have a church half built and no money to finish it.”

  “A million dollars for a church building in a country where there’s so much poverty and where so many need medical and can’t afford it?” Judi asked, looking shocked (she was good at that, too). “That’s downright sick! It’s disgusting!

  “So. You sit here wearing two hundred dollar suits and ten thousand dollars worth of jewelry looking for somebody who stole a million dollars for a church building. You cruds ever hear the words `scam’ or `corruption?’ You’re disgusting!”

  She got up and walked out.

  Moises was out front when she marched out, talking with a gringo tourist who looked a little familiar. Clint was sure he’d seen him somewhere, but couldn’t place him. Blond, blue-eyed Swiss or Dane, by the look. Judi grinned at Moises and pointed at Clint. He got the message and came in to say, “Clint? You asked where that preacher went if we could find out?

  “He went to Valle de Aguas, according to Sylvia. He wants to see the Caribbean from the mountains and to see how the people live.

  “I see these two mentirosas are with you. They were asking about him, but told three different stories why so we didn’t try to find anything for them. We don’t like mentirosas from the government here and will not cooperate with them in anything.”

  “Thanks, Moises. They’re just government agents. They’re alike everywhere in the world. They think they have to make up an exciting lie to get information when it would be faster and easier if they would only bother to tell the truth. Politician and liar are synonyms.”

  “They’re what?”

  “They’re the same word said with different pronunciation.”

  “Oh. I’m going home. Care to come?”

  “I’ll be out there next week. Tell everyone I said `oye!’ and send my love.”

  They hugged, then Moises left.

  “Maybe I’ll go to Valle de Aguas to ... no. Why bother? He’s not up to anything. I’ll just do my shopping and go back to Bocas.

  “Have a nice day or whatever.”

  They looked embarrassed and grunted. Clint walked out.

  Now Clint really was curious. He simply couldn’t connect Emanuel with anything to do with crime or terrorism or anything else – other than evangelism. Of course, that could be what made him the perfect agent for some kind of stupid political intrigue.

  Moises was waiting near the dock. He said he knew where Emanuel was. Rio Uyama.

  Rio Uyama

  Clint went to the dock where Judi was talking with several of the Indios and their wives and children. She had bought a big bag of cookies to pass out. He told her to take the boat back to Bocas and he’d come later or tomorrow on the bus. He wanted to find out what this was about.

  They chatted there for a few minutes with their friends. Judi noticed Willie and Roberto were off to the side watching them and told Clint. He got in the boat with her and her packages (while she was there anyhow she did some shopping) and they headed out toward the islands. When they were out from Punta Robalo she came to the dock and dropped Clint off. He would get a bus there for Rio Uyama.

  His cellular buzzed. It was Fredrico, with the policia in Chiriqui Grande. He said he heard Clint was in town. It may not mean anything, but Anita Clemento Serena L. died in a strange accident late last night. She was a very powerful and very corrupt woman who had caused several of the gringos in the area a lot of problems to force bribes from them.

  “What kind of accident?”

  “She had a dangerous electrical fence on her gate. She came home after midnight and got out of her Mercedes automobile to unlock the gate. The disconnect wire on the switch to the lock had rusted through and the wire was off. She touched the gate and it electrocuted her. Fitting, but rather strange.

  “You were here yesterday and again today. I wondered if she was the center of your attention or if it was a coincidence.”

  “I’ve heard of her. Nothing good. I didn’t have anything concerning her as a reason to be here. I was looking into something very different. From what little I know about her and her family, it was, as you said, fitting.


  “It was probably an accident – unless there’s something you haven’t told me?”

  “It is just a small suspicion that I don’t have time to investigate now. I can’t picture her not having everything, particularly a gate with an electrical connection to more than twenty times the legal limit, in perfect working condition at all times.”

  “I see. Sad accident. Case closed. If it’s some of her crooked friends starting a personal war maybe they’ll kill off a bunch of them.”

  “We can but hope avidly. If there are anymore incidents I will contact you. Caio!”

  “Caio.”

  Clint wondered. Roberto and Willie? He couldn’t picture Emanuel having anything to do with any such thing.

  Still?

  He walked out to the highway and waited for the bus. He was in the casita when he saw a big car that he’d seen in Chiriqui Grande coming so managed to be behind the casita when it passed. It was Willie and Roberto. Probably headed for Valle de Aguas.

  He got on the bus and off at Rio Uyama. He asked about the preacher at the almacen and was told that he had walked on in toward the village by the river a ways off the road. Clint saw several people he knew and stopped to chat. They had all noticed the strange man, but said he didn’t say anything about religion to them. He only asked where to find Carlos Rincón, a local landowner. They told him they didn’t know much about him because he was never around. What they didn’t tell him is that they wouldn’t know anything about the crooked ladron if he was around. He was not liked by decent people. Emanuel did say that he had a message for him from some people who mentioned that he had strayed from the true path. That was as close to religion as he came.

  Clint went on to the village and found that Emanuel had gone on toward the rancho about a kilometer toward the west. The very large and ostentatious red brick house in the valley. There was another stranger around.

  Clint remembered the man in Chiriqui Grande who was talking with Moises.

  No. This one was dark and had longish hair. Panamanian, probably. He was probably just looking around and hadn’t spoken with anyone. No one saw his eyes because he was wearing dark glasses.

  He met Emanuel about two-thirds of the way there, coming back. He said he talked to a man in Chiriqui Grande who said that Mr. Rincón was someone who could use some counseling about his evil ways and had come to see what it was about, though he suspected that a sharp businessman had gotten the best of his complainer in some deal.

  “He is, it seems, in some place near the Pacific. All I wished to do was speak with the man and try to determine the truth. Perhaps I may be of use in such an endeavor. I would not make the faith a part of it except to the extent of showing which passages were pertinent to the problem.

  “I find many people who are spoken of as evil are merely misguided and unable to communicate their true feelings so hide behind a facade of toughness or such. That is most true in Haiti and Jamaica and is spreading through many large cities in the states. Miami, Los Angeles, New York and so forth, where people who are usually very afraid of life pretend a toughness that is not there. It is what they all call a macho complex. It is, in greatest part, the direct result of the extreme glorification of violence through the moving pictures and television, with particular attention to this horrible rap music stuff, I fear. The culture is decadent and holds little hope for a good future anymore. The most negative traits are the ones glorified.

  “It always seems to happen. We do what we can to try to help our fellow man to survive with a little self-respect.

  “That is the whole thing, you see. No one has self-respect anymore, thus no one respects them. It is a circular trap that few can escape.

  “Clint, I fear it is mostly the result of terrible overpopulation. There is less and less to be spread among more and more people. I believe the people here have found a workable solution. They refuse to fall into the trap of things and greed. The Bible was correct when written, `Go ye forth and multiply.’ That certainly does not hold to the reality of what the world has become. It becomes a basis for one of my concerns as to what is true and what is not in the Bible.”

  They walked back toward the carretera. Clint listened to him. He still didn’t let the possibility Emanuel had killed someone hold any credence.

  That meant Roberto and Willie? Were they afraid Emanuel had carried some kind of message to the dead woman or had learned something from her? Were they looking for him to shut him up?

  They were waiting for the bus back to Chiriqui Grande. Clint decided to tell Emanuel about the two agents. Emanuel honestly seemed totally confused. He thought the idea he was a terrorist or thief was purely and plainly ludicrous. The Bible made it very plain that the fate of such was eternal damnation.

  He asked Clint if he ever heard of some place called The Tablets, near the Pacific.

  “Los Quadernos? No.”

  “It sounded like that to me. I’ll have to find out where they meant. I’m sure – Tables, maybe?”

  “Las Tablas?”

  “Yes, I think so.”

  “It’s near Chitre on the Pacific. That’s where Rincón is?”

  “Well, the girl said he often stayed at his place there. She never knew exactly where he would be at any given time. He tends to move around constantly. It’s probably a waste of time to go where he may or may not be. I’ll have to find another project I suppose.”

  The bus to David came and he boarded. Clint waited for the one to Changuinola and headed home.

  “Hi, Clint! Learn anything?” Judi called.

  “Nothing new. I think they think he knows something and want to shut him up.”

  She waved and went inside. Clint went inside his own place and called Fredrico to ask if anything new had come up while he was out. Nothing of any real importance.

  “Any word of anything strange in Rio Uyama or Valle de Aguas?”

  “Strange? Not for the area. A fight that two people cut each up a little, but not too serious. A girl died of snakebite in Rio Uyama. Back on a ranch away from the village. No medical close.”

  “The Rincón ranch?” Clint asked, perking up.

  “No. Castillo ranch.”

  Clint chatted a minute, then hung up. If it had been Rincón’s place he would have had a very bad feeling about things.

  He went into Bocas Town and met a girl from Copenhagen who wanted a little fun on her vacation, but couldn’t communicate with the locals very well. She spent the night with him, no promises or strings. It was a great night.

  When Clint was up and about in the morning he made a few calls to find out what he could about the girl who died of snakebite. For some reason it wouldn’t get off his mind.

  Not much. She was a local girl who had a bit of a reputation as a part-time prostitute and a petty thief. She worked at times for all the big landowners. They had ways to keep her in check, she knew it, so she didn’t take things from them.

  Clint couldn’t see any reason anyone would want her dead. It was probably just a snakebite.

  He thought a bit about it and called Frederico to ask what he knew about Rincón. Other than that he wasn’t popular, not much.

  “He has a place in Las Tablas?”

  “I can find out. I’ll have them call you and you can ask what you like.”

  Half an hour later a man called from Las Tablas and said that Rincón had a large place out near the ocean. He wasn’t popular there and stayed to himself. Clint thanked him and went into town where he ran into Willie and Roberto. They said they had traced Emanuel to Bocas Town, they thought, but he wasn’t there.

  “Oh, I saw him on his way back to Chiriqui Grande or on to David. He thinks this area is too primitive for his tastes or something.”

  “When?!”

  “Late yesterday. I was visiting some friends in Miramar and he came by to wait on the bus at the casita there.”

  They seemed anxious to leave so Clint waved and went on to chat with a few friends in various places. Willie and Roberto a
lmost ran to the water taxi to Almirante. It seemed they had a sudden need to go to David. Strange.

  About eleven Clint got a call. It was Roberto. He said he was in David and that Emanuel had caught a bus for Santiago. Did Clint have any idea where he was headed?

  “Probably going to stay in Santiago a day and head back to Panamá City. The country scene wasn’t much to his liking.”

  Roberto hung up suddenly. Clint smirked. He could picture the wild drive to Santiago this time of night. Would they be able to find if he went to Las Tablas? DID he go to Las Tablas?

  Clint forgot it and went home.

  Las Tablas

  “Mr. Faraday? I am Evelina Donatti, a friend of a friend. I was asked to call you by some strange preacher or something.

  “I’m in Las Tablas. He says you will know who he is and I am to tell you `They’re here. What is happening?’ He is afraid they are thugs. That is all.”

  Clint sighed. How did he get caught up in this kind of thing? What was he supposed to do about it?

  “Thanks,” he replied. She rung off.

  Screw it. Clint and Ben went fishing. When he got back home he had another voice mail. Julio Estevez, a friend in the national police serving a term in Chitre said to please call him.

  Clint called. It seemed they had a body, a man named Rincón. Clint had asked about him?

  “Just curious about some of the things I heard. It seems he wasn’t much liked anywhere around here. What happened?”

  “We aren’t sure. He seems to have been hit by a car and was found laying on the road. It is suspicious because he was not the kind ever to be walking along the road there. He drove his fancy car everywhere he went.”

  “Maybe he just had car trouble,” Clint said. “Where’s his car?”

  “We will, of course, determine that. Perhaps that is what happened.”

  Clint hung up. He was really curious now.

  What the hell? He hadn’t seen much of Las Tablas. It was supposed to be a great area. He’d go. He called Judi and said he was going to Chitre and Las Tablas. Want to come along?