Clint Faraday Mysteries collection A Muddled Murders Collector's Edition (14 page)

“
I’ve got
a few suspicions. I think maybe Juan is the boss. He’s got a lot of
hidden little deals that could lead to a very big deal. He’s using
Fiona-bitch the way we’re using Candi. Difference is Candi knows it
and she’s not an idiot like Fiona-bitch. She knows she’s not
running things and has better sense than to want to. I’ll find out
what there is to know about your ... just a minute. Jim’s on
another line.”

There was about a two minute wait,
then,”Okay. Name’s Bert Golander from Florida – to Jim. I can trace
that back. I’ll call in the morning.”

They talked a bit about the job, then went to
bed.

“
Bert
Golander is Bert Golander from Orlando, Florida,“ Marko reported.
“He’s a big developer of commercial real estate and tourist traps.
He’s out of his league here. He’s another one who thinks he has all
the answers and is untouchable because he can’t be connected to
anything short of his name on titles and such. He’s made a big goof
by contacting Candi because we used that to trace him. He’s
probably the actual boss. He got directly involved because he
happened to be there in the Hotel California when you checked in.
Stupid move to not act like he didn’t know what was going
on.

“
Juan and
Fiona-bitch had a terrible accident on the InterAmerican Carretera.
Car went off the road into the river and they drowned. He wasn’t
the boss. Golander is. I’ll get him out of there if I can find a
way. So far he hasn’t offed anybody who didn’t deserve it in
spades.”

“
I’ll get
rid of him,” Clint promised. “I can pull a bluff that will
guarantee he never comes back here. He can run his little tourist
trap deal on the Pacific on the land he has or can sell it or
something. There’s not much to ruin there anymore.

“
I think
I’ll really miss your friends here. They’re my friends now, too. I
think Candi should go to Hollywood and become a star! She’s GREAT
with the bimbo act.”

“
She’s
got better sense than that, too! You can all come to Bocas for a
vacation. No one can connect them to me so we’ll happen to
meet.”

They chatted awhile, then Clint went down to
sit in the lobby until Golander got off the elevator. He called him
over.

“
And you
are?” he asked.

“
You know
perfectly well who I am. You chatted with my girlfriend in the
elevator. She’s a great lay and a lot of fun, but has about half a
brain. Not everyone I associate with knows what I’m doing. I do
have a private life.”

Golander smirked. “She certainly has what it
takes physically!

“
So! What
can I do for you, Clint Faraday?”

“
You can
get the hell out of Panamá and never return and you can take your
bunch of amateur hoods with you. I can’t believe you were so stupid
you tried to use the Colombians and Mexicans! You can’t get back
out of that kind of thing. Be damned glad you didn’t get in with
the Ruskies or you’d be ... you’d be dead for about six months
now.”

“
Oh? You
think you can just order me to leave and I will?” he said with a
sneer. “This Marko character doesn’t scare me. I deal with the
mafia daily in the states.”

“
You deal
with a bunch of amateurs down in your own league. Consider how fast
I was able to find you and learn where you stand in the
deal.”

“
Marko
Boccini did that!”

“
Exactly.
Doesn’t that tell you something – or are you as stupid as deceased
Juan and Fiona-bitch were?”

“
Er,
deceased?” he asked. Looking a bit scared now.

“
Uh-huh.
Had a tragic accident this morning very early on their way back
here. It’s why they’re not here now.” It occurred to Clint that
Golander was too actually shocked at that news to be faking it.
They were probably partners in the deal, not agents being used.
“People who think they know people who they don’t know here seem to
have a very high incidence of accidents. That – and the fact there
are cameras in places I would expect and that you wouldn’t can put
you right smack in the middle of corruption and conspiracy charges
that will get you twenty years in the pen here in Panamá
City.

“
Ask
anyone. See how long people live on average in the pen here. With
this president you ain’t buying or bluffing out of it. Particularly
the corruption bit. They have a president who actually will
prosecute the hell out of corruption and corrupters. This one means
it.

“
Also,
not knowing who and what Vincente is means you don’t have anymore
chance of surviving than Juan and Fiona-bitch did. By now the only
place in the world you’re reasonably safe is the US – and probably
just in Florida there. I don’t want to have to waste a lot of time
on this anymore. Git! Stay and die. I don’t have to do anything, I
have to NOT do anything and you’ll probably have an accident before
the day is out. I can call off Vincente for long enough for you to
get out. I can’t call off the charges the government will bring if
you’re here when they get the tapes of your involvement in this
crap. Marko is royally pissed at you for causing his friends so
much shit. He has those tapes.

“
Do you
go, now, today, or do I decide not to call Vincente
off?”

“
You can
call him off?” he asked. He was sweating since the tapes
part.

“
I have
some things that could cause him all kinds of trouble with the
government here. He could end up in the pen for those twenty years.
It’s not true that you can buy anything you want if you have the
money here. It’s only mostly true. You have to stop it from ever
coming to the direct attention of the president. He won’t back
off.

“
Today.
Call the airlines and use your ticket. Now.”

“
I have
my own plane. I don’t have much choice. You know, two people told
me to use you here, but I wouldn’t listen. I couldn’t anyhow, could
I?”

“
Not a
chance! Check your plane out thoroughly before you go.”

“
I have
two guards on it at all times.”

“
Are they
flying with you?”

“
No. Why
... I see. I’ll make it plain they go with me to Florida. Thanks. I
think you’re the first one here I can trust to do exactly what he
says he’ll do.”

He took out his phone and called to say to
have the plane ready to leave in one hour – and Jose and Liam were
going with them. Clint went to their rooms to call Marko. Marko
would make it plain to Vincente that anything that happened to
Golander from this point onward would result in some catastrophic
things happening to him.

They spent that night in Panamá City, then
went back to Bocas Town where they spent another week just lazing
around and relaxing. Clint and Candi were getting a bit too serious
for his tastes (when viewed afterward) when they had to go back to
the states.

Yeah. Fishing today.

He went inside to get a few things together,
put the “Gone Fishin’” sign on the front door, got in his boat and
headed east, then south.

It was going to be another perfect day for
lazing around and doing some fishing. He would get back in time to
find something to do tonight, hopefully without finding anymore
bodies on his deck.

Rain
Forest
Tour

Clint Faraday looked over the sea from his
deck over Saigon Bay. The sunrise was going to be spectacular, but
it often was. There were clouds just above the horizon and another
level much higher.

He sipped the second cup of coffee and
reached for the phone. It was Ariel Guerra, an Indio friend from
the coast southeast of Bocas Town. He said he had to talk with him.
Clint said to come on over.

When the Indios had to talk with you about
something very important they almost always wanted to borrow money.
Lending money to a Panamanian is the same as giving them the money.
They don’t pay it back, but will lend you whatever they have if you
need it with no expectation of repayment.

Judi Lum from the next house came out on her
deck to wave and call, “Buenos dias!” He returned the greeting.

That’s another thing about Panamá. Anywhere
else Clint had ever been saying “Good morning!” or its equivalent
was rhetoric. Words. Nothing more. In Panamá you mean it. You hope
they have a great day. That’s the only way he knew to explain what
the difference in Panamá and almost anywhere else is. It’s a
feeling.

“
Doing
anything today?” Judi asked. He put his hand palm up. He hadn’t
decided.

“
We’re
going to Changuinola to shop. Come along if you like – like a man
wants to tag along when a gaggle of women are shopping.

“
Someone’s coming to your front door.”

He waved and went to let Ariel in and to
offer him coffee. He took a cup and asked if Clint had ever been to
Cusapin. He hadn’t. It was in the comarco (Indian land) past
Chiriqui Grande. He understood it was mile after mile of beautiful
beaches and lush rain forest.

“
Mr.
Clint, hay un problema seriosa,” he said.

(I have a very serious problem.)

“
Que
es?”

(What is it?)

*I’ll translate the rest – CD

“
There is
a problem with some gringos and my family land. I think it is
possible they will do what they did to Miguel to get his land.
There is only my mother and brother in the family and they are
doing the same thing.”

Miguel had been contacted, phony papers made,
then was almost killed. They would have the phony papers and no one
to contest it if the family was dead. It happened a lot in the
past.

“
Gringos
can’t own land in the comarco,” Clint replied.

“
It is
only part in the comarco and part beside it on the other side of
the river. I would sell it to people who wouldn’t ruin the area,
but these are just a bunch of exploiters and want to build another
tourist place.

“
Mr.
Clint, I can’t do anything to make them leave me alone!”

“
Have you
told anyone you would sell it? Anyone at all?”

“
No, only
my mother, but she might have said something about it to someone
else.”

“
Did you
quote a price?”

“
No, only
that I might sell it. Do I have to sell it?”

“
No, but
they can cause trouble if someone will testify that you said you
would sell it. You can say you said you MIGHT sell it, not that you
would, but they would tie it up in court and break you. The law is
weird here.

“
Tell you
what. Sign over exclusive selling rights to me. I’ll go to Cusapin
and get rid of them for you – one way or another.”

“
Okay!
I’ll do that. I can trust you, Mr. Clint.”

“
And
please stop calling me ‘Mr. Clint.’ It’s just‘Clint.’
Okay?”

“
Okay,
Mr. Clint.” He grinned his infectious grin. Clint gave him the
finger.

The place was a lush and beautiful as
described. There was a large if spread-out puebla where he could
rent a room, but Ariel insisted he stay at his house. The gringos
were staying in Chirqui Grande where Ariel pointed them out from a
distance when they went through to the boat, which is how one gets
to Cusapin. Clint said he’d seen them a couple of times at
Bohmfalk’s and The Plank in Bocas. He’d been unimpressed with the
type.

Clint settled in, then went to walk along the
beach back toward the river. Ariel pointed to the 65 hectare spot
he owned. It was very certainly a place where a tourist town would
make a bundle for unscrupulous developers.

“
Tomorrow
we will go there and you can walk around it. It is Friday tomorrow
so they will come in the afternoon with their engineer to draw a
plano,” Ariel said.

“
They
don’t make a plano, you do. It’s your land,” Clint replied. “I’ll
be there to tell them to get the hell out and stay the hell out.
They’re trespassing onto private land. Even if it was for sale they
couldn’t go on it without permission.

“
You
didn’t tell them they could go on it, did you?”

“
No, but
mother told them they could look around one time a month
ago.”

“
Okay.
It’s in your name only. Your mother can’t give valid permission for
anyone to be on it. I’ll handle them and their
engineer.”

“
They
have a lawyer with them,” Ariel warned.

“
A
lawyer?” Clint laughed. “I suppose he’s typical? All bluster and
promises, then delays and you need to pay this and that expense
because it’s taking so much time with these delays – that I’m the
cause of.”

“
He isn’t
very ... whatever you call it. Honesto. I think.”

Clint smirked and they went back to the
house. Clint spent a very pleasant night with the cool breeze off
the Caribbean and the smells of the flowers in the rain forest.

Clint, Ariel and a man named Justo Juarez
spent the morning strolling on the beach and walking around the
property. Clint had filled one card with digital pictures and was
about halfway through the second when a boat came into the river
from the Caribbean and beached where the river met the sea. Clint
told them not to come above the high tide line. It was private
property.

“
We have
permission from the owner!” a fat man in his late thirties – in a
suit – stated firmly, as though THAT settled THAT.