Clint Faraday Mysteries Collection B :This Job is Murder Collector's Edition (5 page)

He really did want to know what happened to
Rauz. Was he tied up in it? Carlos was. It was likely. What was the
connection with Rosendo Santamaria? Who was Rosendo Santamaria?

WHO was trying to run a scam on those kinds
of people? Were they crazy, stupid or both? If Paco was the one on
the boat with Robinson, what is David’s connection to this, if
any?

There was Geraldo. David figured in it
somewhere. He was seen talking with ... so that’s part of it. He
was checking to see what Geraldo knew and what he was doing.

Was whoever he was working for running the
scam?

Finding out would be a good way to pass the
time. He would have to go back to David in the morning. Rauz would
be there or in Panamá City. Clint could find him.

He got in to his dock, cleaned up the boat,
refueled it, called Judi and cleaned up. He would spend tonight
doing little or nothing. He and Judi would try the 9 Degrees. Rick
was a gourmand. The food would be exceptional, if expensive.

It was a very good night. Clint caught Judi
up to date on things. She would always be invaluable in finding
certain kinds of information. She would hold down the Bocas end and
he would spend a few days in the David area.

In the morning he got the early water taxi to
Almirante and headed on to David. He met a friend, Santo Guerra,
from Tierra Oscura when he boarded the bus at the 46KM marker. They
talked most of the way to Chiriqui Grande. Clint decided to spend
the day in Punta Peña because Santo said there was some kind of
problem in that area or in Mali. It sounded too much like someone
was looking for a spot on a map in that area. That was too far
inland for any pirate chest. What was going on now?

Stupid Treasure Hunters

Elena, the waitress at the little restaurante
past the school, had heard some people talking who were looking for
something. They had a map on the table and had asked her if she
knew where there was a big rock shaped like a turtle on the side of
a mountain near the river. She had told them she didn’t know of any
such rock. She hadn’t paid much attention to the map. It was a
computer copy or something. It wasn’t like a plano. It was mostly
lines with notations in some foreign language.

Interesting. That river wasn’t navigable. It
never had been. Whenever the water was deep enough to go in with a
small cayuga the water was too swift that far up and was too filled
with rapids. There were a lot of smaller stretches that could be
used, but the usable connection with the Caribbean wasn’t there.
This wasn’t connected.

Was it?

Elena and Virginia described the three men.
One large and fat black man and two who could have been
Panamanians, but with gringo or European parents on one side. They
only called the black Gordo, but one of the others was Tomás
Something and the other was called Ricky. They all spoke Spanish
without accent from any other place. They didn’t use Colombian or
Costa Rican words or expressions.

That would mean Ricky was named Enrique –
unless he had a parent from an English-speaking country. It could
be Richard or Ricardo. No one had seen any of them around before
except the one called Ricky, who had come two weeks before looking
for someone called Ed.

Eduord Rauz?

All they knew was Ed.

If it was Eduord Rauz this was most likely
connected. If not ... it could be or not.

Clint caught the next bus for David. He got
there a little after four and checked into the Pensión Costa Rica.
He went to Peter’s bar (everyone called the Park Vista Peter’s) at
the Hotel Iris and talked with several people about whatever came
up. He didn’t learn anything. He went to the pensión and sacked out
for the night In the morning Clint headed for Pedrigal. He may find
an answer or two there.

He didn’t. He went back to David and to the
pool hall David hung around. He mostly listened. He caught a snatch
of conversation about Geraldo having a mad on about something or
someone. Nothing that he could connect.

That was the problem here. Nothing to connect
anything to anything else.

A rather obvious puta came to ask him if he
was looking for sex. He said, “Yes. With just about anyone but
you.”

She didn’t know how to take that so went back
to sit at a stool at the end of the bar. An hour later he left.
There would be some kind of party that night they were talking
about that most of them were invited to. Clint figured it might be
a good idea to crash it. In disguise. It seemed Mr. D was paying
for the food and beer, but other drinks were not included.

Clint went back to sit for a beer in a couple
of other places. He heard one bit in The Top Place Billares about
someone called Rosendo who had disappeared.

That reminded Clint. He called Sergio and
asked what had been learned.

Rosendo Santamaria was identified by a
supposed girlfriend who said he was supposed to come to her place
and had never arrived. She wasn’t from the Bocas area – so why
would she be looking for someone else to arrive at a place she had
rented yesterday morning?

She would be watched very closely, but also
discreetly. Sergio also wanted to know who else she knew or met
with there.

David had gone through Sixola into Costa
Rica, also yesterday morning. Another little clue that didn’t quite
connect. Was he running from someone?

Likely. Who? The woman who identified
Rosendo?

Not enough information.

Clint decided he was off on some kind of wild
tangent. Maybe something would come together at the party.

He went back to the pensión to clean up and
put on a disguise. The man who left the Costa Rica about seven
thirty was a bit seedy and tough-looking. He had very black hair
that didn’t quite match his complexion and wore cheap cologne. He
had a couple of rings that were semi-precious stones and an earring
that was a very good diamond. He had on some heavy gold-plated
chains. He had a scar on the side of his face that was covered with
make-up, but not quite. His moustache didn’t quite manage to match
the color of his hair and wasn’t well-kept.

He got to the pool hall and was stopped at
the door. There was a private party inside.

“
Yeah, yeah. Mr. D said to drop
by.”

“
Mr. D?”

“
Ger. What?” Clint snarled.

He was passed through after saying his
name was Culebra (Snake) Smith. There were about thirty people
inside. A truly mixed bag of seedy thugs and men in good business
suits. (Probably lawyers. Very few but bankers and lawyers wore
suits in Panamá: You know how to tell a lawyer? You can’t, but you
can always tell
who’s
a lawyer
because he's wearing a suit.)(It doesn’t translate very well.)
Puta’s and ladies in good clothes.

Clint watched the doorman go to a heavy man
with somewhat long wavy hair. He was smoking a Cuban cigar and had
on a massive gold ring. The bouncer pointed to Clint. The man
shrugged and came over.

“
Mr. D?” Clint asked before he could
say anything. “I’m afraid I used your name to get in.”

The voice from the telephone call in Bocas
replied, “Mr. Faraday? You are nothing like was described to me. I
was waiting for you.”

“
Waiting? For me?”

“
Yes. I well-am aware of some of your
methods so arranged this get-together to introduce you to a number
of people. One of those here is the person we seek, I am quite
sure.”

“
No. That person will have several
people here to observe. It’s very slightly out of character for you
to throw a party on such short notice. They’ll be suspicious.
They’ll definitely watch who you talk to. It might be a good idea
to have me unobtrusively removed. You stay awhile and begin
checking your watch in a half hour or so, get a tiny bit upset and
leave after another half hour. They’ll believe you were waiting for
someone who won’t show up. Then they’ll figure I decided not to
work with you and figured the angle of this party. It’ll keep my
cover and tell them some things. Not knowing you directly could be
to our advantage. They won’t recognize me in this get-up and Clint
is, so far as they can learn, in his room for the night, too tired
to go out.

“
They’ll have me followed. I’ll go to
the place Clint Faraday is staying. Maybe they’ll decide I’m some
hood working for me.”

He started to smile, caught himself, got a
bit of a wary look and turned and walked off. He spoke to the
bouncer a moment, then the bouncer came to tell Clint, as Mr. D
said, he wasn’t welcome there. It would be better all around if
Clint were to decide to go elsewhere. Clint looked over to Geraldo
and mouthed, “Asshole!” and handed the bouncer his half-finished
beer. He stalked out. Geraldo gave the bouncer a high thumbs up and
started a conversation with an attractive woman as Clint passed out
the door.

Clint noted the one who followed him. He took
one of the taxi’s waiting out front and the woman took another
almost immediately. That driver didn’t know how to follow anyone
without being obvious to an almost comical degree. Clint decided to
have a little fun so spent until well after midnight going from
dive to dive. She had to be in or out front of them to keep him in
sight, which made her even more obvious. There’s almost no one on
the streets in David after ten o’clock, but she couldn’t very well
show up in every place he went to. A woman standing in front of a
cheap bar at eleven o’clock and later was assumed by everyone who
saw her to be a hooker. Clint would bet she had an interesting if
not too pleasant night. Particularly after it started raining at
ten twenty.

There were no taxis in the area he managed to
be when he decided to go back to the pensión. She was following
about a block back. Clint was wearing a thin waterproof sweater, as
was the custom at night in the rainy season, she was wearing a thin
evening dress. After about six blocks Clint managed to flag a
passing taxi. She was standing on the corner a block back and began
desperately trying to flag a taxi herself. She must have found one
because a taxi pulled up close behind and followed them to the
Costa Rica. Clint got out and paid his taxi. Her taxi was pulled
into the lot at the bakery across the street. Two cars on the
entire street, both taxis, one in front of the pensión and one
across the street at a bakery. Clint had the giggles as he rang to
be let in. He spoke to the desk girl quickly, then waited just
inside the steel doors until the signal rang and the desk girl
keyed for it to open. The woman was standing there, but couldn’t
come inside. There were no available rooms and she wasn’t a guest
so wouldn’t be allowed past the doors.

She asked about Clint, who was just on the
side where he couldn’t be seen from the door. The girl said Clint
was in his room and hadn’t left since she came on duty. He was
obviously exhausted and said he was not to be disturbed. He would
not be disturbed.

She asked about the man who just came in.

If she didn’t know the name of the man who
just came in she had no business there.

Now she could find a place to watch the front
of the place for the rest of the night or leave. She went over to
in front of the Universidad Latina, talked to the night watchman
for a couple of minutes, then walked toward downtown.

Clint went to his room, took off the
disguise, took a shower and went to bed.

The morning was clear and a bit cool. Clint
went to Doña Amelia’s for breakfast. He was the first customer and
had been walking around for more than half an hour. He woke up
before David got into motion much. He liked to walk around the city
while it was quiet.

After the good breakfast (hojaldras and
coffee with an omelette) he strolled past the Alcalá. He had seen a
man at the party there the day before. Clint had a talent to note
people and places automatically and could place them when he saw
them again. When the restaurant opened he went in to have coffee,
then acted like he was waiting for someone for ten or fifteen
minutes, went to the desk to ask if Mr. Alexander was still in his
room. The woman checked the register and said they had no one by
that name registered.

Clint also read upside down as well as right
side up. He noted all the names and times in the register, shook
his head and said they would have come in about eight the night
before. The Alcalá was full by six thirty. They may have gone
elsewhere.

Clint thanked her and said they were the type
to go to the Best Western, then. He’d probably missed them. He went
to the café across the street for a chicha (fruit drink) and more
coffee. The man and a woman came out and went toward centro. Clint
casually finished his chicha and left when they were a block and a
half away. He followed them to the Multi-Café by the Hotel
Castilla, where they came out on the porch to sit with another man
and woman. This one was also in a suit. They had some papers the
second one took out of a briefcase and were discussing them when
Clint walked by four feet away. He’d seen Freddy, a local
character, sitting on the wall in front and went to sit with him
and say good day. The wall was three feet from the table. Tom and
Gene, two other gringos who were there most mornings, came out to
greet him as they sat at their regular table five minutes later.
The lawyers were lawyers and were discussing a case. One was
defending and one was prosecuting. They were making a crooked deal
where they both made a bundle and the people they supposedly
represented would get it in the ass from both. Very typical.

Freddy told Clint they came about once a week
to figure ways to screw everybody in sight. He knew them. He would
report to their clients what was going on. They could believe him
and do something or get screwed. Their choice.