Clint Faraday Mysteries collection A Muddled Murders Collector's Edition (45 page)

Clint and Serg turned their backs on him and
walked off. He headed back toward his office. There was no reason
to go to Panamá City now!

“
Okay.
Where did the curare come from?” Serg asked.

“
They
brought it with them, or one of them did. They raise race horses in
both Switzerland and California. Curare is used in very small
amounts in certain medications for horses. Most veterinarians carry
it, even in the states.”

“
So. How
do we discover which one?”

“
Or ones.
The sixty four dollar – or seven million Euro –
question.

“
Somehow
I get the feeling this is going to be one of those things that lead
all over the map, figuratively as well as actually. There’s
something behind this that made it happen now. At this particular
time.

“
I have
to learn a lot about Lawrence. Donald doesn’t seem to
fit.”

Serg nodded. “It could be more a question of
why it was done here, not so much as why at this time. Or
both.”

“
Here,
because you wouldn’t have the facilities to ever even find an
injection point and couldn’t hope to make any progress in solving
such a clever case. Now, because of that stupid will.

“
Donald?
Nothing whatever fits about the time where he’s concerned here.
There weren’t any exceptions.

“
Serg,
get copies of his financial transactions over the past couple of
months. And Donald’s. And the rest of them. I think maybe the old
bastard had already taken care of the favorite son. If there was
any transfer of large amounts we have motive – unless it wasn’t to
Donald. If it was we have no motive for killing him.

“
Cripes!
I want to know more about Lawrence.

“
One
thing fits. It’s something I read in a Nick Storie
novel.”

“
What the
hell is a Nick Storie novel?” Serg asked.

“
It’s a
series of detective novels Dave wrote back in Florida. There’s one
story where ... well, it tends to fit this situation – except for
Donald, which throws sand in that oil pan.”

“
Does
what? You fail to make sense.”

“
Nick
Storie makes what they call ‘mangled metaphors’ in the books. That
was one of those. I’m thinking of the books at the
moment.”

“
Oh. ‘A
monkey wrench into the works’ kind of thing. It’s kind of
apt.”

“
Uh-huh.
There’s the strange part of this one. Donald doesn’t fit – but
where DID he fit in anything?”

“
I don’t
quite see where any of them fit in it.” Sergio made a wry
face.

“
You DO
have a point there.”

“
I have
to go to San Blas,” Clint announced to Sergio in the morning. “It
seems that Dr. Sven Orison and a Karl Rasmussen are there. Very
odd.”

“
Odd?”
Serg asked. “Why would that be odd?”

“
Lawrence
Lesley’s doctor and lawyer just happen to be in Panamá now? You
said it was important to know why THEY’re here and why
now?”

“
It’s not
so much odd as scary.”

“
Scary?
Now I’m confused!”

“
Scary
from the standpoint of solving a case that seems to be a crazy
conspiracy of some kind, but by different people for different
reasons. I think you will have to check most carefully into the
politics of all of them. I think they will vary greatly among that
select little group of misfits.

“
They all
also seem to be misfits in a strange way. Again, not because of
some glaring detail. It’s subtle. Like ... I can’t say what I mean.
I’m not at all certain there is a specific reason.”

“
It’s not
just because they’re here, it’s because they’re here NOW. It’s not
because they don’t much react to a given thing, it’s because of the
non-reactions to a specific set of things. It seemed to be a kind
of opportune murder at first, but the poison was brought here. It
wasn’t.

“
Donald
simply will not fit. They seem a little sad because he’s dead, but
they don’t react much to anything. For one person a lack of
reactions can be explained, but for a group?

“
Only one
of them has shown any emotion at all, but even that was sort of ...
dilute. Maybe they’re on tranquilizers?

“
I think
I know why the attorney’s here – if I’ve figured the old tyrant
correctly. Why is the doctor here? Why are they THERE, not
HERE?

“
I mean
San Blas. It’s a mess and hasn’t even gotten started yet. I worked
a number of murder cases back in the states. This has to be the
most confusing thing I ever came across.”

“
You
earlier mentioned your author friend, Dave. Why not see if maybe
they are working a crazy scenario from the story it has reminded
you of?

“
They are
not using drugs of any type we can find, not even sleeping pills or
aspirin. They drank very moderately if at all. They have no
detectable vices. I have checked on the internet. They are very –
neutral – people who have no enemies and few if any
friends.”

“
Yes. It
was altogether different except for Lawrence. Maybe this one is a
Miss Marple thing, dependent on personalities more than other
factors.”

“
Here we
go again! Who the unholy hell is Miss Marple and what does she have
to do with anything?”

“
Agatha
Christie.”

“
Agatha
Christie is using the Marple name here? Isn’t she the writer? Isn’t
she dead?” Sergio was totally lost now. Clint laughed and said Miss
Marple was an Agatha Christie heroine in a murder mystery series.
She solved crimes by studying the personalities who became involved
in a case.

Sergio sighed. Very deeply. “All cases are,
ultimately, based on personalities.”

“
I have
to talk with Dave,” Clint said. “Then on to San Blas.”

“
Ho,
Judi!” Clint called across the cove. “Dave there?”

Judi Lum was a close friend and neighbor he
knew from Florida before moving to Panamá. She had helped him with
his former cases here. Dave was an oddball author, botanist,
geneticist, musician.

“
Yes.
We’re planting orchid seeds. He’s in the kitchen. Come on
over.”

He waved and boated over to her place. Dave
was swearing at the electric stove, claiming he couldn’t get
anything right. He had to work on approximations. Judi poured
everybody coffee and sat at the table on the deck just outside the
door. Clint joined her and explained he had some questions as soon
as the sowing was done. Dave said to go ahead. He made a lot of
noise but this process didn’t require too much thought and
approximately was plenty good. He just liked to bitch.

“
You
don’t have a tiny clue as to liking to bitch!” Clint shot back.
“You’re up against professional bitcher in this one.”

“
Great!
Introduce us! Maybe I can use him or her as a
character!”

“
Nope!
He’s dead. You won’t be having any bitching bouts.”

“
Crap!
Everything’s going wrong today! What obscure fact do you need
explained?”

“
Abstract
stuff having to do with personalities and I want to bitch about
getting involved in a stupid case where nothing QUITE fits with
anything else, but you can’t put your finger on any specific
fact.

“
A bunch
of people who simply don’t react to much of anything, an old tyrant
who got offed – which was certainly NOT what you might call
‘unexpected.’ Another one who’s dead with no reason and his wife
and family are maybe a little sad. A doctor and a lawyer here at
this time, but not HERE.”

“
Drugs
for the non-reactions and you lost me about the here but not
HERE.”

“
No
drugs. Not even booze or aspirin. The doctor and lawyer are in
Panamá. San Blas. I’m going over to see them in a few
minutes.”

“
And?”

“
They’re
from Switzerland. There are seven million Euros in property and
assets. Lawrence was apparently going to die of cancer within two
months. He’d hired a local lawyer to make a will leaving everything
to the Smithsonian. The family apparently didn’t have a clue about
the cancer.”

“
So the
heirs knocked him over to stop it,” Judi put in.

“
With
curare brought from Switzerland?” Clint asked. “Also, one of the
crew was killed when Lawrence was killed. Donald.”

“
What
d’ya want from me?” Dave sang. “That’s too weird for my tastes. I
wrote a couple of things where each clue to one thing cancelled a
clue from the other. That happens when the murders aren’t really
connected except in a peripheral way and happens a lot more than
people guess.

“
You’re
yakking about that loudmouthed asshole at the Pirate? Made a scene
wherever he went to bait his worthless family?

“
One of
the non-blood did it. The husband or wife wanted out and wanted the
money that comes with it. I can figure these things to the least
detail. I’m only wrong ninety percent of the time.”

“
I have
to check on them, but it doesn’t seem to fit.”

“
The
doctor and lawyer are in Panamá but not here in Bocas? Concentrate
on WHY and what kind of influence they have back in Podunkville
Switzerland,” Judi suggested.

“
Influence?” Dave asked. “You may have something. What are
the credentials of those two and how close are they and were
they?”

“
Credentials?” Clint asked. Dave nodded.

“
That’s
scary!” Judi exclaimed.

“
Second
time someone’s said this one’s scary,” Clint said
sourly.

“
Second?”
Dave asked.

“
Yeah.
Sergio said the same thing.”

“
Serg?”
Dave replied. “If anything scares him it very damned well IS
scary!”

The plane landed in San Blas just at
nightfall. The sunset was spectacular over the mountains to the
west. Clint headed for the pension where he’d called Freddy Wagner,
a friend he’d met in Panamá City two years ago when he first moved
to Panamá. Fred ran the pension as something to do and a way to
meet people. He wrote magazine articles about his experiences.

After putting his bag in the room Clint went
to the big restaurant overlooking the Caribbean at the end of
Avenida “A”. Freddy had told him the only people who might be the
ones Clint was looking for were there every night. One was Karl and
the other was Sven. They were Norwegian, but were living and
working in Switzerland according to the bartender, Niko. Clint had
them pointed out to him. Sven was a thin overly-suave type with
pinc-nez glasses on a string that he put on and took off again
three times in only five minutes. There was no reason so far as he
could see to put them on unless they were more than reading glasses
– in which case there was no reason to take them off except
vanity.

Maybe he couldn’t wear contacts for some
reason and was vain about using them at all. He reminded Clint of a
French gigolo he once knew.

Karl Rasmussen reminded Clint very much of
Henry Kissinger.

After about fifteen minutes he went to the
table and introduced himself as an investigator into the death of
their client in Bocas del Toro. They seemed nervous that he knew
about them at all, but were trying to be amiable to learn what he
knew about them and the family. Did the family tell him they were
here?

He said no, that the family only knew their
names and addresses in Stockholm, Switzerland. He’d traced them
with the routine methods. They exchanged scared looks when he said,
“Routine methods.” Sven was as smooth-voiced as Clint figured he
might be. He worked hard at it. He was probably as vain as Clint
imagined, too. Rasmussen was very quiet and spoke in a chopped sort
of fashion. He wanted to get information without giving any. He was
a bit shrewd – but he was a lawyer, so that would be expected. He
was evasive when he answered anything at all. Clint remembered what
had been suggested about checking the credentials of the two, so
said he only wanted to introduce himself. He would speak with them
tomorrow.

He went directly to the internet to contact
Marko, an ex-mafia don who lived on Isla San Cristóbal. Clint had
done him some favors and he had reciprocated. They were now fairly
close friends. Clint was the only person besides Dave and Judi who
knew who he was.

“
Yo,
Manny! (Marko was using the name “Manny Mathews” here)” Clint
greeted. “Can you get information for me from
Switzerland?”

Accountants
and
Quacks

“
Dr. Sven
Orison, M.D., Phd in psychology, takes on a lot of rich
hypochondriacs and bleeds them on a steady basis for years,” Marko
reported. “Why he’s in Panamá is at the request of clients who need
his services and can pay. The Lesley bunch, no doubt.

“
He uses
some highly questionable methods and therapies. At one time he had
a minor improvement method for certain incurable types of cancer.
He could usually bring them to remission, but it was only
temporary. He prescribes a lot of heavy tranquilizers and
narcotics. He refers people to other doctors when his methods fail,
often too late. He has some good international credentials in the
psychiatric end. Did a lot of Pavlovian therapy with manic
depressives. He got caught using scopolamine and such from organic
sources at one time, but hadn’t quite crossed the line if just
because it was recorded as experimental therapy. Pictures himself
as a super stud of some kind and pays expensive prostitutes to
bolster his ego. That’s fairly common among psychology majors. They
take the courses to try to find what’s wrong with
themselves.