Clint Faraday Mysteries collection A Muddled Murders Collector's Edition (12 page)

“
That’s
all I know. They are here in Bocas, staying at the Swan’s Cay, her,
and the Tropical Suites, him.”

Clint nodded again and said, “They aren’t
going to kill you. I’m pissed about the mess on my deck, but you
had no choice, as you said. You did the world a favor by knocking
Raymondo over, so we’ll forget that. The policia have no evidence
to point to you.

“
Can you
get out of Panamá with the papers you have?”

“
No! They
have all my papers!”

“
Vincente?”

“
Yes.”

“
Okay. Go
to Rio Sereno and walk into Costa Rica along the upper road.
Disguise yourself a little and do not tell ANYONE where you’re
going. Go back to the terminal there in three days. Your papers
will be there in the name of Lionel Williams. Go to San Jose’ or
somewhere such and disappear. You can go to wherever from San
Jose’.

“
Is there
anyone else you have to protect?”

“
Not in
this country, but they can’t get to my family in
Hungary.”

Clint nodded and turned back toward Refugio,
noted he was out front of the Big Bamboo and went in there instead.
Lasko walked on toward the parque. Clint ordered a tall Bloody
Maria from Enrique, the popular bartender, and went to sit at a
table on the ferry dock side to call Marko. He quickly explained
everything and Marko said he’d call Vincente. The papers of Lasko
would be delivered to him in three days at the terminal in Rio
Sereno in the name of Lionel Williams – stamped and legal – even if
they hadn’t come into Panamá legally.

“
It’s
that Mexican mafia trying to horn in on this country’s commercial
section,” Marko explained. “I’ll put a stop to most of it. I’ve met
this Fiona bitch so won’t come to Bocas until they’re gone. I’d
love to tag their asses! She’s about as crude as they come.
Vulgar.”

“
Maybe I
can work out something to do that. Panamá doesn’t need that type.
It’s just coming up in the world in a big way. That kind of crap
always ends up hurting anybody and everybody in the country. I wish
I had a suit. I’d go calling. I’m too conspicuous like this, but
it’s also the way I dress anymore.”

“
I’ll
have a picture of Fiona-bitch and this Don Juan character in your
e-mail in a half hour,” Marko replied. “They won’t hang around the
classy joints because they could never fit. They’ll dress down and
go to the regular tourist bars, I’d guess. You can happen to meet
them. Scare the piss out of her if she’s there to have the crud hit
at your place.

“
Could be
fun! I’d like to get a picture of her face when you tell her you’re
good ol’ Clinty-boy!”

They both laughed, chatted a few minutes,
then Clint finished his drink and headed for his place to get the
pictures and change clothes. It might be an interesting night. It
just might!

Clint recognized the pictures on his comp.
He’s seen them around town. She had raised a stink at the Golden
Grill because she didn’t know the Spanish word for mayonnaise – and
she didn’t pronounce it right in English. A man suggested she
pronounce it like it was spelled, but with Spanish vowel sounds.
She’d glared and started to say something when he looked at Cecilia
and said, “Mah-ohn-eye’-suh.” Cecilia said, “Oh! No problema!” and
got the jar for her. Later Clint saw Cecilia and the man joking
about it. Cecilia knew exactly what she wanted, but she’d been a
pain in the ass the day before and the people have a way to get
back at the crude tourist types.

Clint went to The Casbah, where they’d been,
then to The Plank, where the two were sitting at the bar. He got an
evil look on his face, called Marko and told him to watch the phone
pic and waved at the several who knew him, went to the two and
announced, “Bienvenidos a Bocas! Soy Clint Faraday, local
character! Momento.”

She looked like she’d been smacked in the
puss with a wet fish and he looked like he had a sudden severe
stomachache.

He said into the phone, “Got to go! It was a
great picture, huh?”

“
Got it!
I’m putting that one right into the comp for when I need a giggle!”
Marko said. “Ciao!”

Clint turned back to the two and innocently
asked, “Gringos o de Europa?”

“
Uh, we
speak English and the lady speaks Italian. Her Spanish isn’t good
yet. I’m Juan, from Medelin, and she’s Fiona, from Vespa,
Italia.”

“
Clint,”
Clint replied. “I’m from the US, Florida, but don’t care to ever go
back. This is my home now.

“
Here for
long or plan to stay?”

“
We’re
both residents staying in Panamá City,” she answered. “We’re
investors. A friend lives somewhere near here – I suppose you’ve
heard of him. Marko Boccini – and we hoped to see him. He’s very
hard to find because he came here to escape the business in
California.”

Juan was staring at her in shock almost. He
looked like he’d totally enjoy strangling her.

“
So you
would know who I am,” Clint said easily. “He’s somewhere in the
Med. His only interest here is a little investment over on the
Pacific side with some of the local people. He’s actually a decent
person who wants out of how his pop made his.”

“
He has
an investment in the Pacific coast?” she asked, eyes as hard as
steel. “Where?”

“
Uh, we
have a large tract on the Pacific just out of Barqueta,” Juan said,
still staring at her in disbelief. Clint knew of some of the large
tracts for sale or recently sold there, which was why he mentioned
the place. He’d heard a lot of mafia-types were trying to get a
foothold in that area.

“
Then
you’re probably neighbors! They bought something like two thousand
hectares close. I’ve never seen it. I like the Caribbean side. He
also bought a little finca just out of Alanje. Now THAT is a place
I could like! He says he wants to bring some of the family from
Sicily down here for retirement.

“
Well!
There goes Ben! Have a good stay here. Ciao!”

He waved at Ben, who was going by with a
boyfriend and went out. As soon as he was out of sight of The Plank
he called Marko to say, “They’re into the Barqueta bit. Probably
want to establish casinos and such. I told them you had invested
there. Two thousand hectares. Juan couldn’t believe how she kept on
running her mouth. I wish I could have sent you the pictures of HIS
face while she blabbed on about wanting to meet dear old friend,
you!

“
I told
her it would be easier on the Pacific side, seeing you were
neighbors there.

“
Oh! You
bought a little finca in Alanje to bring some cousins from Sicily
to retire in peace. Or something.”

“
Hmm.
Okay. I can handle that. Might want you to run over there for me in
a day or two. It IS a good place for investment – so long as you
don’t tell the whole story.”

“
Yeah,”
Clint replied drily. “Such as the undertow that kills a bunch of
people every year. Just show pictures of the FANTASTIC miles of
PRISTINE beaches! Black sand, yet. Sixteen foot tides.

“
What you
got planned?”

“
I might
actually invest. That part is already past saving to any extent so
I’ll get a patch and save it. Don’t do no good to have umpty
million dollars if you don’t do anything with it.”

They chatted a few minutes more, then Clint
went to Bohmfalk’s to chat with the people he knew before going
home.

“
Clint?
Do me a favor?” Marko greeted.

“
Sure!
Whatever you want – short of the things you’d know
better.”

Marko laughed. “Seems this Marko character
and a few friends have a little vacation spot where they want to
build a big hotel and casinos in maybe fifty, a hunnert years.
Little two thousand four hunnert hectares. Seeing as you’re the
first vice president of the sorta transparent S. A. and own thirty
percent you can sign the papers and all that crap because this
Marko hood is in the Med on his private little island and don’t
wanta come to no crud place like Panamá just for normal business,
see?”

“
I own
thirty percent?” Clint asked.

“
Hey! You
got me into this! You gotta take a little what you call
responsibility for THAT!”

“
Cripes!
How much did that cost you?”

“
Real
good deal. Twenny five hunnert a hectare. Paid cash. Six mil,”
Marko said, laughing. “I got geetus up the ass! Shit ain’t worth
shit you don’t do somethin’ with it, y’know? Use a mil to make ten
mil, which you use to make a hundred mil. Business. Just don’t
never ask what it’s for or you get what you call
migraines.

“
Ah, here
comes my bimbo! Sexy as hell! Don’t she know that stuff has to wait
for business? Huh?

“
Think
about it, I’m damned glad she don’t! Ciao!”

Clint shook his head and sighed. Great!

Clint walked along the wide beach. It was
more than a hundred meters wide at low tide, and maybe ten at high.
The rocky point ahead where the mountain met the sea was
picturesque, in a way. The land was flat on the eastern end and
mountainous on the western. There were some lazy cows munching the
place where the rice had been harvested. Marko would let that grow
back to the normal scrub of the area. He had walked along the beach
bordering the land the syndicate had bought. It was mostly rocky
and covered with the low scrub. Marko’s part had more clean rich
soil and was flatter. They would play holy hell building much on
this part.

He’d signed the legal papers and was doing an
inspection. He had his camera and would get everything he could,
though there wasn’t much to be seen before the start of the
mountains.

He climbed to the point to take some pictures
that were more like the brochures. The view over the sea was like a
painting. It was a great place for a seaview house, though the
winds would be pretty fierce a couple of weeks of the year.

He saw three people walking towards him from
the Juan-Fiona property, so went down to meet them and another man
they introduced as their local lawyer, Edwardo Listor Jimenez.

“
We
understand Marko bought this plot,” Fiona said a bit sarcastically.
“We had planned to buy it for the extension of the place. Seems he
beat us to it.”

“
C’est la
vie,” Clint replied.

“
We too,”
the lawyer said. “It is why we’re here.”

“
What the
hell is that...!” Clint exclaimed, then, “Oh. Spanish. ‘Se la vie’
means ‘I saw it.’ Never mind. Marko wants to preserve this stretch.
Maybe his grandkids will do something with it.”

“
We can’t
have that!” Fiona snapped. “We will buy it from him! We need this
part!”

“
It’s not
for sale,” Clint replied off-handedly. “It’s too pretty a spot up
there (pointing to the point) for some gaudy tourist trap hotel and
casino.”

“
We want
that property and we WILL have it!” she replied haughtily. “We get
what we want!”

“
You’re
going to have a bit of a surprise this time,” Clint replied
conversationally. “I really don’t think you’re going to intimidate
Marko with this crap.”

“
If you
fell off that cliff they would never find your body!” she snarled.
“Think about that! This isn’t the US, it’s Panamá! WE are in charge
here.”

“
Well,
you’re unbelievably stupid here, at least. What would you gain by
offing me? Can’t you think at all? That would tend to anger Marko,
wouldn’t you say?”

“
It would
send him a message! We don’t play silly games with your
types!”

“
Is she
always like this?” Clint asked Juan. “Your socalled lawyer stands
there and listens to it? Is that wise?”

“
What?”
the lawyer asked. “I’m here to look over the land and recommend a
reasonable price. No more.”

“
Well,
I’ve had Marko on the cel phone since you came. You can make your
threats directly to him. Here.”

He took the phone from his shirt pocket and
handed it to her. She threw back her head and took the phone,
listened for a minute, then shakily handed it back to Clint. He
said, “Yo, Marko?” into the receiver.

“
There
are four men standing on the hill and four more between that bunch
and their land. If they so much as give you a hard glance they will
end up falling off the cliff. Talk to you later.”

Clint smiled pleasantly at the three and
said, “You were leaving.”

They left.

Clint went back to David and caught the bus
for Bocas.

“
Well,
Clint! Como esta?” Judi greeted. “There were a couple of people I
never saw before at your place last night. They came in a boat. I
called Manny and he said they were there to clean the place
up.

“
Interesting on the other side?”

“
Sorta.
Seems I’m a thirty percent owner of six million dollars worth of
land on the Pacific. Two thousand four hundred hectares. I might
actually build a little place on a point over the water there. It
is beautiful – to look at.”

“
To look
at?” She grinned impishly at him.

“
Deadly
undertows. Looks like paradise, but there’s a bug in that beer.” He
returned the grin. “It seems they neglect to tell people that those
big waves coming in on top mean that the water goes back out
underneath. It’ll take you out with it. Underneath.”