Clint Faraday Mysteries collection A Muddled Murders Collector's Edition (24 page)

Manny studied him a minute, then shook his
head. “I hope it’s like you figure it. Almost nothing here is. Be
very damned careful.

“
Okay.
What?”

“
I have
to know who to have the remarks overheard by is all. You and Judi
can be with me somewhere and we can handle it. Apparently, all Jim
could do would be to finger two people and link them to a new bunch
who want to take over in Panamá. Can I help it if no one ever told
me about anything except that Jim had information that I could use?
I innocently came across two names and followed them while I was in
Panamá and they met with these other people I never heard of and
I’m damned pissed that Jimmy boy got out before he could connect
the dots, kind sir.”

Manny thought for a minute and nodded. “It
could start a war!” he warned.

“
In
Panamá City. Among them,” Clint pointed out.

“
Oh! I’ve
been here in Panamá City before, so I know where to shop and all
that,” Judi said four days later in the lobby of the Hotel
California. Clint had been there for three days and nights being
seen around various places. Places where two people in particular
were at the time.

“
You and
Syl go shopping and Clint and I will take care of some business,”
Manny suggested. “We can go to the bank and work out the trust fund
he’s establishing for the Indios’ education. It was great that
those people gave him the money. Not many would trust someone
they’d met only a few times in a bar with five million dollars! He
could keep it and give them the old finger.”

“
Oh,
Clint wouldn’t do that. He isn’t after money,” Judi said. “Now ME
... could I do some shopping on five mil? You’d better believe
it!

“
Let’s go
up the Via Espania to the better shops to look around, then we can
go down the other way and get the same things at half price or
less.” She and Sylvia went out joking about the difference in
prices in only six blocks.

Clint and Manny took the bank check to HSBC
and made a fund that would be administered by an Indio friend from
Isla San Cristóbal, then went back to be seen in a couple of
places, then to the hotel to get ready for dinner. Seeing the hotel
restaurante is excellent and the four people who were getting in
the way following them were hanging around downstairs that would
work out perfectly. Manny had discovered there were two major
Russian gangs in Panamá City who were getting more and more
suspicious of each other. Clint suggested the new two would have
hints to be used to make them even more suspicious of what the
other was doing. If a new bunch was coming in to join with one of
them it would throw the balance of power way off – so eliminate the
new group and handle the other, who would be royally pissed. Seeing
they wouldn’t know who was trying to throw in with this upstart
group ... they would do the same thing with some other group sooner
or later, so stop that foolishness now any way you can. My group
isn’t in it so the other one has to be.

Clint, Judi, Sylvia and Manny looked over the
tables in the restaurante and chose the one with a table to either
side that was unoccupied. Very soon two men and a woman sat at one
table and two men at the other. They chatted awhile, then Judy
suddenly said, “Oh, Clint! Did you find out anything about that man
you were trying to find?”

“
Chekov
and Kreniev?” Clint answered. “I followed them around a bit. They
were always meeting with some bigtime Russian mafia types. I was
never where I could hear much. One of them said something about
taking over some business or other and those two would make the
difference with their associates. They would end up with some kind
of monopoly on something or other. They talked mostly in Russian,
but I had a girl I know along who speaks it fairly well. I had to
trace back from when Blanchard was here to see who he met, but
there’s not much to find. Seems he was the secretive
sort.

“
Aren’t
these about the best camarones al ajillo you ever
tasted?”

They chatted a bit about the food. Manny said
he’d checked on the people Chekov and friend met with – with
Marko’s help – and it was some big mafia don or something as bad.
Russian mafia. Smirnoff and Karpov or somebody like that. It would
be a good idea to drop it. Those people were crazy. Marko told him
that a year ago. Later they mentioned that Chekov and friend had
gone to see the bigshit mafioso several times and seemed to have
some kind of deal because they looked so smug and self-satisfied
when they left. All Clint heard that last time was something in
Russian. Lisa, his girlfriend of the moment, spoke a little Russian
and said they said it was done and was going to work out better
than something or other. She didn’t catch that. They were talking
about getting some people from Russia to come here to manage things
or something – and wasn’t that flan different than anything they’d
had anywhere else?

The woman on one table got up and went out,
then a man from the other did the same. Manny hid a grin.

They soon decided to go stroll around a bit
and hit the sack. It was back to Bocas in the morning.

The woman came to them and asked if he was
Clint Faraday from Bocas del Toro. He said he was.

“
My
friend, Edouard Barkoff, would like a word with you, if you would
be so kind. It will only take a moment. He will come here and see
you in the bar?”

“
Okay.
Fifteen minutes. I think I’ve heard the name. Russian
mafia?”

“
That’s
only a stupid rumor. He is simply an astute businessman and some
are jealous, so start stories.”

Clint said he would be there.

A few minutes later a man called the room and
said Gregor Smindrev would like a word. Clint pulled the same
routine and said he’d be in the hotel bar in an hour. He had
another meeting first.

Manny said to be careful. These people didn’t
play games.

“
Mr.
Faraday? I’m Ed Barkoff,” the bullish man greeted. There were some
other Russians sitting at tables and at the bar. Mortendahl was
flirting with a barmaid at the end of the bar.

“
Clint,”
he returned. “What can I do for you?”

“
You were
overheard saying that a Mr. Chekov met with some other people who
are reputed to be in the mafia?”

“
Well, I
was following him for another reason and he met with several people
who are reputed to be in the mafia. I don’t care. I was looking for
something else and that just happened. There’s a person who has
some information I want who has supposedly left Panamá and I
thought that might be a cover story. I suspect he’s still here in
Panamá somewhere. I hoped they’d lead me to him.”

“
Would
one of those people be known by the name of Smirndrev?”

Clint stiffened, looked suspicious and said
he would never give that kind of information to anyone who didn’t
hire him to find it. That would be unethical. Barkov said he
understood and wouldn’t further pry into his business. He soon
left. Coincidentally, so did six other Russian-looking men and two
women. Mortendahl grinned at him.

“
Ah! Mr.
Faraday, I presume? I’m Gregor.”

“
Clint.
What can I do for you?”

“
I was
informed you were overheard speaking of a Mr. Chekov and a Mr.
Kreniev earlier in the evening. They met with reputed mafia
figures. I am sometimes accused of being in cahoots with those
people – falsely, I assure you – and wondered if perhaps one was
Edouard Barkov?”

Clint stiffened, looked suspicious and said
he would never give that kind of information to anyone who didn’t
hire him to find it. That would be unethical.

“
I see,”
he said with a grim look. “I apologize for the presumption, but
merely wished to be sure it wasn’t with the person who people
sometimes claim is my business associate. He is NOT!

“
Again, I
apologize for my lack of sense in asking. I know it was out of
line. I merely wish to protect my own reputation. I wish you a
pleasant good evening.”

“
What’s
going on?” Clint asked as Smirndrev stood. “I wasn’t interested in
any of that. All I was doing was looking for a person who has some
information – perhaps about the Russian mafia, but I don’t know
that. I was only following them because I hoped they’d lead me to
him. He’s supposed to be gone, but I suspect he’s still in
Panamá.”

“
Would
that be James Blanchard? I can assure you he is no longer in
Panamá. He’s made some very powerful enemies and will never return
here or he might never leave alive. I assure you this is true. He
is one who once said I was with the mafia so I had him watched. I
am not the one who he fears. I would merely bring a suit against
him for slander. That is very important and very criminal in Panamá
today.”

Clint laughed. “Too true! You can get three
years for slander and only two for armed robbery!

“
I
suppose I’ll have to accept that he’s beyond my reach – but he’d
BETTER never come back!

“
Good
night.”

“
Okay, we
can go back to Bocas this morning,” Clint said. “I think this is
taken care of.”

“
Better
than you may think. Did you watch the news this
morning?”

“
I did,”
Judi said. “Big gang shoot-out in the barrio. Seven or eight dead,
minimum. Police are expecting retaliations.”

The next ten days had regular gang wars in
Panamá City. Two Russian gangs were decimated. Among the dead were
Chekov and Kreniev. And a Smirndrev.

The police hoped this would end the crime
spree that was giving Panamá city a bad reputation.

“
Well,
you never cease to amaze me!” Manny greeted when Clint came into
Bohmfalk’s on the last night of the gang wars. “If I were still in
the business I’d be packing up and heading as far from Panamá as I
could get!”

“
Well, I
had to do SOMEthing!” Clint aped. “It seems they only have one gang
to watch anymore – and that one is a lot smaller and weaker than
the old ones.”

“
It won’t
take long for another bunch to move in,” Judi warned. “Maybe you
can keep all the new ones out if they think they’ll end up
dead.”

“
Not that
bunch! Sharon! A Balboa, por favor!”

Dave came in with Paul. They had their
guitars, so it might turn into a fun night!

But then, most of them were here in
paradise.

Clint Faraday Mysteries #2

Daybreak

© 2008 & 2014 by C. D. Moulton

all rights reserved: no part of this
publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any
means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or
any other information retrieval system, without permission in
writing from the copyright holder/publisher, except in the case of
brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblances
to persons or events is purely incidental unless otherwise
stated

Clint wakes up to another day in paradise.
Everything is as perfect as it gets – except for that red sky.

“
Red sky
in morning, sailors take warning.”

Well, that doesn’t mean much here in Panamá.
There are a lot of colorful sunrises.

Then, again....

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblances
to actual persons are totally coincidental.

Then again....

contents

Red Sky in
Morning

Puerto
Armuelles

Batty Steps In

Something
Strange

What’s Going On?

Gringos

Accident My Ass!

Can’t Trust
Nobody

Life on a Bus

Who Needs It?

Daybreak

Red Sky in
Morning

Clint Faraday awoke to a light breeze blowing
in from the east through the window to the deck. He glanced out to
see Julio Guerra going by toward the research institute on the
point, but the Caribbean was calm this time of year and the little
breeze made only small ripples in patches on the surface of Saigon
Bay. It was a perfect day, but the red sky to the east meant
probably a bit of rain later. It would be light and warm, so most
would ignore it.

William Raspette went by with a boatload of
surfers. As dead calm as the Caribbean was at the moment meant they
would lay around on the beach at Boca del Drago until the rain got
close enough to make some waves. Probably an hour or so.

Clint stretched and went to the bathroom to
rinse and such, then went into the kitchen to put on coffee. He
decided to whip up a quick batch of cinnamon pancakes.

He quickly sliced into the large guanabana
fruit, dropped a couple of cups of the delicious white fruit into
the blender, added a bit of sugar and a cup of milk, a cup of ice,
and made a delicious chicha. Perfect.

From here, he could see Judi Lum on her deck,
working with the vast array of local orchids the people brought
her. There were hundreds of natural varieties growing in the area.
She planted them on driftwood and always had a few dozen in bloom.
The “Lady of the Night” orchid that was all along the coast was as
much as ever-blooming here in its natural habitat. It had a sweet
fragrance at night – which was why the name.