Clint Faraday Mysteries collection A Muddled Murders Collector's Edition (16 page)

“
Yes. Sad
accident. You won’t need anymore of my statement as to finding the
body when I came to see if there was a leak in those storage tanks
up there, will you?”

“
I don’t
see why. It seems as clear as the way he died, wouldn’t you say?
Sad accident.”

Clint saluted and headed back to Bocas.
Menendez was probably the lucky one to die so suddenly and
unexpectedly. Others would spend the rest of their lives looking
into shadows and wondering when it was coming.

And if maybe they should act first.

Whatever Works

Clint Faraday walked into the Hotel Alcalá
lobby in David, greeted the women at the counter and asked if Frank
O’Dell was there. He was in 202, so Clint called and said he would
meet him in the restaurant.

“
Quere un
quarto?” Carlyn asked. He said probably not, then said he would
stay at least tonight, seeing it was already one o’clock. He
wouldn’t be through here for at least another hour and he didn’t
want to ride back to Bocas that late. The bus took almost four
hours. The water taxis would have taken their last run at 6:30 and
he would have to stay in Almirante. He always stayed at the Hotel
Chadam and it was probably full of workers from the electric
project. Kevin would let him sack out in the house, but there were
already too many there.

He went into the restaurant for coffee and
chatted with a couple of gringas who were staying in the hotel. It
was their first trip to Panamá and they didn’t know where to go or
what to see. He suggested a few places, but David is a large
spread-out city that has the atmosphere of a small town, which was
why Clint liked it so much. His semi-nutcase author friend, Dave,
came in with the owner of a local night club (such as they have in
David) and greeted him. He had a couple of houses in nearby
Quiteno. Clint had stayed there several times as well as at his
place in Bocas. One of the gringas said she had seen him playing
guitar in Panamá City the night before. He was pretty good for the
older stuff. He tended to play a bit too heavy for Panamá
though.

“
He was
with some of the big bands in the sixties and seventies,” Clint
replied. “I mean big names, not the big bands. He did mostly heavy
metal. The man with him is Panamá Bill. He plays there
sometimes.”

“
There
where?”

“
Panamá
Bill’s. It’s a bar and restaurant to your right as you go out the
door, go to the street this side of the parque and turn right. It’s
about four blocks down across from the HSBC bank. A lot of gringos
meet there. It’s close to several casinos if you like that kind of
thing.”

“
We’re
just looking around. I’m Anne and she’s Karla. I’m a gringa, but
Karla’s from Germany. How about showing us around? I’ll
pay.”

“
I have
some business, but should be done with that by about five. We can
go to Steaks or Antojitos for dinner – and I’ll pay.”

Frank came in to look around. He saw Clint at
the table and came over. Clint introduced them and Karla showed
immediate interest. They invited him along for dinner. After a few
minutes the girls said they were going to walk around and through
the parque, then do some shopping. Clint and Frank suggested the
loud bazaar-type places three streets over. Take their time and
they could get some great bargains. Clint did most of his shopping
for clothes and such there.

“
Oh!
Dress up tonight?” Anne asked.

“
This is
as dressed up as I ever get in Panamá,” Clint replied. “You can
dress as you like. A lot of gringos from Boquete dress up for
Steaks, but they’re the exception.”

“
We’ll
semi,” Karla said. “Better than this, but not fancy. I want to be
comfortable and that’s easy here. I can be comfortable and stylish
at the same time!”

They said their “Later!”s and went out.

“
When did
you get in?” Frank asked. “You were in Bocas when I called you this
morning!”

“
Only
about fifteen minutes ago. Why?”

“
And you
already have a date for tonight?”

“
So do
you. They’re attractive and are here for a good time. A one night
summer fling sort of thing.”

Frank shook his head and said he wanted to
discuss a couple of things that had happened that didn’t seem to
make sense. It was just a bit sinister.

“
In what
way?”

“
Mostly a
feeling. Little things are just a little off-center and some people
are acting like they’re acting. Like it’s a bit rehearsed. A couple
of odd things – like a bum who’s a bit too well-dressed to be
panhandling, then he gets irate when I say I don’t carry money and
don’t give it out when I do. Nobody ever seemed to take offense
here with that. Little things. A feeling of being
watched.”

“
Who
would be behind it and why?”

“
I don’t
know who and can’t think of why anyone would be stalking me. It’s
getting scary. I get phone calls that hang up when I answer a
lot.”

“
One-ringers? Perdidos? That’s just people who don’t have
any money in his phone and want you to call them back. That way you
pay for it. Common with women you gave your number to.”

“
No. When
I call back they don’t answer. I’m used to one-ringers. Unless I
know the number I don’t return – and sometimes I don’t BECAUSE I
know the number. It’s a feeling. I’m being threatened or warned
about something and don’t have a clue as to what it could
be.”

His phone beeped. He looked at the caller ID
and answered. He shrugged and handed Clint the phone. He could hear
small background noises, but no voice.

Clint looked at the ID. Private, which meant
it couldn’t be called back by fast dial. Probably a pay phone.

“
This has
gone far enough. What the hell do you want?”

“
Que?”

(What?)

“
Que
quere?”

(What do you want?)

“
Quien
habla?”

(Who speaks?)

“
Clint
Faraday. Que quere?”

“
Digarse
su amigo hay cuidado. Propiedad de otras esta propiedad de
otras!”

(Tell your friend to take care. Property of
others is property of others.)

“
Que
propiedad?”

(What property?)

“
El
conoce!”

(He knows!)

“
No. El
no se. Es porque yo vene aqui.”

(No. He does not. That’s why I came
here.)

There was a silence for a minute, then, “En
La Fiesta! El llevado propiedad de mi hermano! La bolsa!”

(In The Fiesta (casino). He took property of
my brother. A sack.)

“
Momento.”

(A moment.)

“
Frank,
did you pick up a bolsa at The Fiesta?”

“
Fiesta?
I’ve never been in the place! I don’t care for casinos!”

“
Is un
equivicado. El nunca es en La Fiesta. El no quero por
casinos.”

(It’s a mistake. He’s never been in The
Fiesta. He doesn’t care for casinos.)

“
NO!
Viernes dos semanas pasada! ES!”

(NO! Friday two weeks ago. HE IS!)

“
Friday
two weeks ago?” Clint asked Frank.

“
Friday
two weeks ago I was in Mexico City, for Christ’s sake!”

“
El es en
Ciudad Mexico viernes dos semanas pasado.”

(He was in Mexico City Friday two weeks
ago.)

Frank dropped his passport on the table open
to the Mexican stamp.

“
Es
verdad. Tiene aqui la pasaport de el. Tiene la visa Mexicana y
timbres.”

(It’s true. I have his passport here with the
Mexican visa. It’s stamped.)

“
Ay! Es
un problema grande! Ay!”

(It’s a big problem!)

“
Possiblemente yo puede ayuda?”

(Perhaps I can help?)

“
Esta ...
A reunion in Panamá Bill’s a la ocho y media, por
favor?”

(It’s ... Please meet me at Panamá Bill’s at
eight thirty.)

“
Muy
bien. Su nombre?”

(Very well. Your name?)

“
Es Jorge
Villardes. Gracias.” He hung up.

(It’s Jorge Villardes. Thanks.)

Clint shrugged and said they’d stop by Panamá
Bill’s with their dates at 8:30 and see what it was all about.

“
Cripes!
You take on the ones who were after me?!” Frank cried. “Clint
you’re ... weird!”

“
I’m
curious. I want to know what’s going on. It’s something that has
this Jorge character scared out of his wits so it’s probably a drug
deal or something. I can maybe find out what it’s about and scare
whoever off. I just have to find the right method. This could do
it. I might just tell him to hide out and be more careful in the
future. If it costs some drug pushers everything they have to try
to hide from the cartels, tough shit!”

“
Whatever
works,” Frank replied.

They went
to La Tipica for dinner, then on to Panamá Bill’s. Dave was playing
folk stuff. He was there and some people asked him to play, so it
was informal. He sat at the bar and did things like
Leavin’ On a Jet
Plane
and
500 Miles
and so forth. Two local
mestizos came to look in the gate. Clint asked if one was
Jorge.

“
Si. El
es mi hermano, Samy.”

(Yes. This is my brother, Samy.)

* I’ll translate to English – CD

“
I’m
Clint. What’s going on. What have you gotten into that has you so
scared – and don’t equivocate. Tell me. I promise not to cause you
any trouble, I’ll just give you advice.”

“
Samy had
a sack with, I think, much money. He did not look into it. It was
sealed closed. It felt like money. He was to give it to Sr. Smith.
Samy placed the sack on the shelf to call Sr. Smith. Your friend –
someone who looks much like your friend, a gringo – took it and
went out. Samy didn’t see him until he was near the door and went
after him, but he was not there. Now Sr. Smith wants it and Samy
doesn’t have it. He will kill him!”

“
Who gave
him the money to deliver?”

“
Sra.
Smith. She said it was business papers that are secret. She said to
go to The Fiesta and to the phones in back to the left near the
money changer cajas.”

“
Do you
still have Smith’s phone number?” Clint asked. Samy gave it to him
as well as that of Mrs. Smith.

“
Well,
we’ll see what we can see,” Clint promised. “I’ll handle it
tomorrow morning. You two stay with friends or something and we’ll
meet at the Alcalá restaurant at noon, okay?”

They agreed and left. Clint figured he knew
pretty much what it was. It wasn’t going to work. Someone who was
trying to get a couple of people’s tails into a crack were going to
find their own in a vice.

The night was very pleasant. Anne stayed with
him and Karla and Frank went off to a place Frank knew about. In
the morning Anne and Karla caught the bus to Bocas del Toro. Maybe
Clint would see them in Bocas Town.

“
Johnson
residence,” greeted him when he called the home number of “Sra.
Smith” in the morning.

“
I’d like
to speak with Mr. Johnson, if I might?” Clint requested.

“
The Mr.
And Mrs. have gone into Boquete town for their
desayuno.”

“
Gracias.
I’ll call again later,” Clint said and hung up. He headed for the
terminal and bus to Boquete.

Johnson. In Boquete. Veddy inderesdink.

Clint asked a local policeman if he’d seen
the Johnsons this morning. He said they were at the restaurante by
the parque earlier, but had probably left. He pointed to a red four
wheel drive truck and said they were still in town. Clint thanked
him and went to sit in the parque to watch for them to come back to
the car. He sat next to a rather overdressed man who seemed to be
lazing around on that bench that was closest to the car. He didn’t
fit the local atmosphere at all.

“
Colombiano?” Clint asked.

“
Yes.
Gringo?”

“
Yes.
Clint Faraday.”

The man knew the name. “Alex Sandia.”

“
Your
stuff the Johnsons are trying to, shall we say, keep?”

He got the stare again. “What do you know of
it?”

“
The
people they’re accusing are friends. They didn’t lose anything and
they didn’t take anything.”

Alex studied him for a minute. “So it is a
trick to take my money?”

“
Well,
let’s see. Samy is hired by the Mrs. to deliver a package to a VERY
specific place at a VERY specific time. Someone grabs the bag as
soon as Samy puts it on the shelf and looks down to the phone
number of the Mr. Samy doesn’t see him behind the machines until he
is near the door. Samy runs to the door, but he is not there and
not on the street. I wonder if that car (pointing) was driving away
at just that moment?”

“
Yes. It
seemed suspicious to me. I will promise your friends will not be
harmed in any way. I cannot say the same about the lovely Mrs.
Johnson and her amiable husband. When one plays dangerous games and
gambles he must be prepared to lose now and again. I know from
experience. It is expected in business, but the sum should have
been less. One doesn’t shrug off being tricked out of three
quarters of a million dollars.