by Moulton, CD
“Joe? Another one who’s hard to get close to. He’s just a regular type guy. Gets competitive at tournaments, but keeps it there. Quiet, but a more serious type.
“Any help?”
“It makes most of what I felt a little more clear. Thanks.”
They talked about the waves for a couple more minutes. Clint went on out the wharf to talk with Indio friends who were fishing there.
“Silvio, have you noticed anything about any of the people on the surfer boat?”
“Anything? No. Those two gringas are hot, but they stay with their group.”
“I just need some basic background. They seem normal enough.”
He grinned. “For surfers, I guess so.”
“I saw something a little strange about one of them,” Berto said. “One of the women. I was underneath and didn’t see which one. She threw some things in the water.”
“In the water ... things?”
“Bottles.”
“Where?”
“Just by the tie-down on the end. I was on the painting scaffold and she came out about ten last night and threw them in. I think it was one of them. It could have been someone else. She left back toward the town. She was too tall for a Panameña and walked too heavy. Many gringas walk heavy. I saw her hair was a little short for a Panameña. Sort of brown. I couldn’t see much else.”
“What kind of dress? What color?”
“Just those blue pants that fit so tight.”
“Wet suit?”
“Yes.”
“Are you certain it was a woman?”
“Women’s shoes. I couldn’t see much of her from underneath, but those shoes are stupid on a wooden dock. She almost fell when she stepped in a crack.”
“No one else was on the wharf? None of the local fishermen?”
“Tide was wrong. No fish. Nobody else I saw.”
Clint nodded and thanked them. He went to the beach house and got the scuba gear from the closet, checked the air and regulators, then went back to the wharf and down to the landing station under the control house. He put on the gear and slipped into the water to go underneath to the area where the bottles had been thrown in. It was in sixty two feet of water so he wasn’t seen by anyone.
He found various things there. Four were fancy cosmetics dispensers. He put everything there in a sack and went back to the landing and off of the wharf with his loot. He took everything to Dr. Geraldo and said he wanted to know everything they could find about what had been in those containers.
“Like, was it snake venom?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Two hours. It’s not a fast test to find that kind of specific in trace amounts.”
“Will do!”
Clint went back into town and wandered around while he waited. The group had gone out surfing again and wouldn’t be back before five or five thirty. The waves were still good. A little better than yesterday and the day before.
Not much else to do so he visited friends in the nearby countryside and returned to town at four thirty, Dr. Geraldo said most of the tests were inconclusive, but he got a probable confirmation from a cologne sprayer bottle. It was expensive.
“Which one?”
“The Arpage Musk. Real gold leaf logo and all that.”
“Sounds like we have one small physical clue! Good show!”
“If you can find who it belonged to.”
“There is that.”
“I have a partial. It’s not enough for positive unless we can match it in portion to a full print. It’s not a thumb or first so it’s not on passports or tourist papers.”
Clint nodded. He and Geraldo went to the hotel bar for a beer and waited until the group got back. The taxi let some off at the wharf before coming to the hotel. They greeted them all as they came in. Wade came over to have a beer with them. They chatted about whatever came up.
Clint liked all of them. He knew one was a killer, but that didn’t make them less likable in other ways. They were all going to a shindig some other local surfers they met were throwing. The others lived in the area and had been there on the beach for the good waves today. They all got along. One of them, San Diego Tom, had met three of the party in Sydney at a tournament in Australia send-off. Two years ago.
Clint had met San Diego Tom several times. People here were called by a specific name like San Diego Tom because there were a number of Toms in the area so that designated which one you were talking about. There was an El Paso Tom and an Old Tom in the area that Clint had met. There was a local, Tomas Carenas, they called by his family name. Carenas.
That might tell him something. He had something he wanted to know that a semi-dress-up shindig might tell him.
Wade invited him. “San Diego Tom told us he knew you from when you solved some kind of mining case. He said the Indios considered you one of them. He said to tell you to join us. You somehow fit with about any group.”
“I’m Ngobe. These are different, but we’re still Indos.”
“You’re shitting me! You, an Indio?!”
“So declared by two chiefs,” Geraldo agreed. “If they declare you’re Indio, you’re Indio. I suppose you might call him a naturalized Indio.”
They chatted, then Clint went to the beach house to get ready. He just might get a clue as to who to grab. He only had one serious candidate now. Somebody not being somewhere and somebody else doing the wrong thing in getting rid of those containers in that manner. That little deal told him someone knew.
Tom saw Clint come in with Wade and came over to greet him and ask him if there was any progress in the case. Clint said it was pretty well in the final moments, that he just had to get confirmation about something. Several of them heard that and looked expectant. One of them just hid a smirk, but Clint saw it. It confirmed what he thought. Another looked scared and a little relieved.
“Well, let’s have a drink or ten and forget about that kind of stuff for the night!” he said. “Everybody who doesn’t know, which is no one, this is Clint. Eat drink and be merry! Tomorrow we diet!”
That was his favorite saying. He was constantly fighting a middle-age bulge. He had just turned fifty five a couple of weeks ago, but was still a regular surfer. He had won a few trophies in the past and was determined to surf until he died, preferably crushed by the really ultimate wave.
Tying it Up
Clint had about all he needed now except who the woman was on the wharf. He had an idea. Some things were beginning to click now. Some people were in very bad situations because of what they didn’t know. Maybe someone found a way out.
A few other things were adding up. He went back through what he’d learned step-by-step and it was there. That perfume bottle made it fairly clear who it was. Things told him not so long ago fell into place when Berto was describing the woman on the wharf. Someone wanted out of what had become an intolerable situation. Someone who was the only one there with access to a perfume bottle. He had said when they were looking for a container for the venom that the person who brought it would be a fool to keep it or dispose of it where a killer could be connected. Someone else used that.
Clint decided to go calling. He needed a little information from one person to tie this up.
“Hi, Wade. How are things today?”
Clint was just going into the hotel as the group was loading their gear into the taxi to go to the surfing beach. San Diego Tom was with them. He said the waves were as good as they got this time of year today and he wanted to take advantage of them.
“Surfing is one of those few things you don’t do, right?” Wade asked.
“I’m lousy at it and am too old to learn,” Clint said. “I hang four when I need to hang ten. A board can give you a hell of a smack if you don’t know how to fall where it can’t. I don’t. Any real surfer has that as an automatic.”
“Something you don’t even think about,” Tom agreed. “Want to come along and watch?”
That wasn’t what he’d planned, but might make t
his easier. “Why not?”
He got in the back of the small truck taxi with Wade, Joe and the gear. Half of them were in the second taxi. They made the trip to the beach and unloaded the gear, scanned the waves and said they were almost perfect and would be perfect in about an hour and a half. The tide would change and start coming in in a few minutes. It was dead low tide at the moment.
Cathi came with Bob and the Dernes to chat a few minutes until the Vincents and Ell and Nan came to get their boards. The Mathenys stayed mostly off to themselves. Lonnie and Joe were talking with Wade and Marty.
Ann said she didn’t care to take to the water yet. Her back was giving her some trouble. She’d slipped and twisted her ankle on the sidewalk and it had now settled to her lower back. Nan said, “Sciatic nerve got pinched. I’ll give you a quick massage.”
They took a roll-out mat to halfway to the water and Ann laid down for the massage. It was a good opportunity so Clint called Chet to the side for a few questions.
“I need to know a few things before we arrest Ann for the murders,” he began. “I really only need answers for personal reasons. We have her cold for the venom. Thanks for that.”
He looked scared. He stared at Clint and waited.
“You don’t make a good drag, but it served pretty well for an Indio under the wharf to think it was a gringa. Did you wait until you knew he was under there and no one else was at the dock or was it just good luck?”
“I waited. It had to work or nothing ever would and she’d kill me off sooner or later.”
“She was purely stupid not to get rid of that bottle when she dumped them overboard.”
“She did throw it out. It floated enough that I got it in a hand net when she went back inside.”
“She killed her last husband?”
“I think so. I don’t know. I didn’t know anything about any of it until I saw her push Sandy over the side. I was supposed to be asleep. I think she put something in my beer before we went to bed. It was a powder that tasted bitter. I saw her do something and acted like I drank the beer and dumped it when she went to the head. I didn’t know what was going on and pretended to get sleepy so we went to bed. I acted like I was out and she left the room and was gone about an hour when I went to look for her.
“She was out on deck, pushing Sandy over the side at the gangplank break. I stayed in the doorway and she went to their room and came back with some things. The bottle was one of them. She dumped them and went back to their room and I fished the bottle up and went back to our room. She came in about five minutes later and I acted like I was out cold. I know what that stuff can do so I kept saying my head was a little painful the next morning and I couldn’t think straight.
“I was scared nearly out of my mind. I didn’t know what to do and she got to where I couldn’t be alone for ten seconds or with anyone else where she couldn’t hear. Everyone said you had a knack for digging things up. I know you’re watching all of us and that the Indios will tell you anything they know, no matter what.
“I also knew there was no one else with that expensive perfume on board. I didn’t know for sure, but that would be the perfect way to carry snake venom where it would be hard to find. I didn’t touch that bottle. I used latex gloves. Her prints would be on it and you’d tag her. All I had to do was make it look like she dumped it somewhere and you found it.
“I gave her some stuff for her back. She did slip and did strain it a little. She magnifies a little pain into a major operation so she took it and I knew she would be out for four hours. The pain and headache this morning would be a natural reaction and she wouldn’t be suspicious.
“I waited until I saw the Indio go under the wharf and went home to get the bottle and a wig and shoes that would make it look and sound like a woman from underneath and ... you know the rest.”
“There weren’t any fingerprints we could use, but the bottle tells the story. It had a little of the venom in it. It could only be her perfume on that boat.”
“She thinks there’s no way you’ll ever find anything about whoever did it. She says she thinks it was someone smart as all hell who didn’t leave any clues anywhere. She was glad there wasn’t any connection to us because that would make you suspicious.”
“What was it about? Do you know?”
“I can sort of guess it had something to do with something in a used magazine Sandy bought in Acapulco. She said she was sure it would cause someone a lot of trouble. They would have grounds for one hell of a lawsuit for libel.
“She got Ann aside and she and Ed were sort of intense when they were talking to her. Ann said they found something about someone in the magazine, but it was probably not the one she thought, but they would look into it. Sandy said something about something else that made the connection pretty sure. They went into Ed’s room for awhile, then Ann came back and said it was a big disappointment. The person’s age in the magazine said fifty four and nobody on this trip is that old except Les and it sure as hell couldn’t be about him.”
“I’ve seen Ann about ten times here,” Clint said. “She always has on a different wig. She has a wig on now and she’s going surfing. What’s that about?”
“She has a little patch of hair missing. She got a burn in one of those fires in Australia. It was just a few days before her husband died in one of them. She’s sensitive about it. She kept talking about having a graft when we were in Paris. She said nobody’d ever know and she wouldn’t be so embarrassed about it.”
“Funny. There’s no record of her being injured in a fire.”
“It was in the outback. She put some antibiotic salve on it and hoped it wouldn’t scar to where it would show.”
“I see. That’s what it would be about. I’ll have to find a copy of that magazine, but it will be something that shows she killed her husband. Maybe the missing hair is some kind of proof of identification.”
“I sort of thought something like that. I would have turned her in at Acapulco, but she could kill me without a thought, I think. If she finds out about this she will anyhow.”
“Exactly where were you when this happened? Do you know fairly close? I can make it look like something else.”
“We were sitting at five kilometers off the point light. We could see it and Les said we wouldn’t have to go through a lot of silly rigamarole with officials if we stayed a ways out of Costa Rican or Panamanian water for the night. A patrol boat did come close, but we were past the limit and they went on.”
“What time?”
“It was three twenty seven when I got back to my room. I made sure I remembered that.”
“That’s all I need!” Clint said. “She’ll look this way in a minute so don’t be talking to me.”
He nodded and went to stand just behind the taxi, polishing his surfboard. Ann came up the beach to Clint about three minutes later and said she thought he was going to talk to Chet. She seemed a little unduly suspicious. Clint said all he wanted to know was if he’d seen a girl called Surfer Sally in Ecuador, but Chet said they didn’t stay long enough to meet anyone. That seemed to satisfy her. She went to tell Chet that she was perfect now! All she needed was to make the muscle against her spine where the sciatic nerve went in relaxed. They could catch the waves now, but she mustn’t twist too much. They went down the beach with their boards.
The taxi was returning to Puerto Armuelles. Clint called a farewell to the group and went with it. In Puerto Armuelles Clint went directly to the police station where he had a chat with Dr. Geraldo and Romero. Romero said he’d get an evidence bag from the Costa Rican police and make out a report that made some very interesting facts known. Clint said it would wait until they were all back. They made a plan. Clint went to the boat and told Les what they needed so he said he’d manage to have them all on the wharf for a party and luau-type feast at nightfall. It was one of the things that were advertised as part of the tour. Surprise Hawaiian luaus when they found good waves. They wouldn’t think much about it not being on
the beach because that was a bit far. He had time to get things ready and had done that sort of thing before. If Clint would get some friends to bring a lot of beach sand onto the dock fast enough he’d get the cooking started. It would take eight hours, which meant it would be ready about six thirty.
Clint had several of the Indios start bringing sand and some rocks, plus a lot of old tree limbs the electric company had cut along the streets last week. Les said they would make the fire about right for the rock-bed.
Clint went back to the police station when the process was well underway and helped Romero compose the report that came into the station half an hour ago along with the bottle.
Then Clint went back to the beach house to relax and take care of his other business on the computer.
Judi and their weird musician/botanist/author friend were there to surprise him. Judi had an idea she would try and Dave would be there to supply music for the luau. Clint called Romero and told him what Judi planned. None of these people had ever seen her and she could pull it off. It would make it just a tad bit more legitimate sounding.
The fest was just starting. Everyone was relaxed and having fun. Wade and Joe had invited a couple of local girls and Ell had made friends with Silvio, Clint’s Indio friend. Dave was doing some older songs everyone knew and they were singing along to Leaving On a Jet Plane when Romero, Dr. Geraldo and Judi came out on the wharf. Nobody was paying them any attention until Dr. Geraldo announced, “This is Señorita Judi Lum, a liaison with the Costa Rican police. She has brought us some things that were picked up by the patrol boat at the point. We told them of the deaths, naturally, because we weren’t positive whether it was in Panamanian waters or Costa Rican waters or international. They saw and recorded that this boat was sitting off the point only meters outside the limit. They note all such things.
“When we informed them of the murder victims they immediately dispatched a vessel to that spot. The loran numbers were, of course, noted when the report about the presence of the boat was entered. The waters there are but six to fourteen meters deep at low tides, making a scuba team search quite easy.