by Moulton, CD
Clint Faraday had a simple and basic code. There were no grey areas. He lived strictly by that code. Maria would always be a friend, but never again a lover.
Maria worked one day a week with the institute and said there was going to be trouble there because someone had discovered embezzlement, but they couldn’t find who was doing it. At first it had been a few hundred dollars, but there seemed to be something else and it could get into the hundreds of thousands. Everyone was talking about it, but no one knew who had found and reported it.
They soon said their goodbyes and Clint walked on toward Bocas Town, as the people here called Bocas del Toro Town. Bobby Longstreet came out from his place with someone Clint didn’t know. They went their separate ways and Bobby came to walk with Clint.
“Student backpacker?” Clint asked. “You know to tell me it’s none of my damned business.”
“Yes. From Denmark. It was a nice night.”
Bobby was gay. He was generally selective and was a good friend to have. He was always first to help anyone who needed help.
“What’s going on at the institute? Heard anything?” Clint asked.
“Well, Marco said something is definitely going on there. Someone was doing some kind of cost-effective study or something and found there was some kind of crooked deal with that land the institute bought on Popa.”
“Popa? Isn’t that ROP? Why would they even consider it seeing the government would help them with that kind of thing and besides, there are thousands of square miles of preserve that have everything you can find on Popa and they already have access to all that.”
“Exactly.”
Clint grinned his ever-ready grin. “I see.”
“You busy tonight?” Bobby asked with his own grin. “You know how you drive me crazy! I could stop fooling around if you would give me a tumble! Swear!”
Clint laughed. “I don’t know. I have some things that might tie me up.”
“You could tie me up if you go for that!” They laughed and joked about sex all the way into Bocas Town.
Clint thought a bit about the deal Bobby mentioned. He tended to wonder a little about it. The real estate people gathered at The Golden Grill before going to their offices so he dropped in to sit with them. He was popular around most of the people on Isla Colón so was invited to join most such gatherings. This one was six agents from four agencies.
He was able to slip in a question about the mess at the institute. They had heard there was some kind of deal about darklands land that was nothing more than a typical “Fantastic Opportunity for Investment in a swamp” scam they should have known about. The Goldman Agency handled it and they weren’t usually included in the group at The Grill. They were considered just a mite shady. Clint let the subject get changed almost immediately. He knew there was something there and that was all he wanted. He chatted for a few minutes, then went to the docks to get a water taxi to take him to Popa. Silvio was there so he took that boat and was able to talk a bit about the deal with the institute. Silvio hadn’t heard much, but had taken Dr. Beckman and Dr. Marcos out a couple of times about a month ago.
“Dr. Graham saw you this morning and got all hot over you,” Silvio said. “We sort of put her on, as you say. She thinks you sleep with anyone who will give you the time – even men.”
Clint laughed. “I refuse to deny anything! I will deny sleeping with married women, so she’s out of luck if she’s married.”
“I don’t think so,” Silvio replied, smirking. “I would have great pity for the man married to that one!
”She kept on about maricónes. She heard people talking and thought they said ‘maricón’ when they said ‘malecon’ or something such. That’s what brought it up with you.”
“So! Go to the malecon to meet a maricón! Is that why you’re always hanging around the docks?” They joked about misunderstood words all the way to Popa, where Silvio showed him the piece of land the institute had been interested in.
“Cripes, man! That’s in the preserve, isn’t it?” Clint asked. “Nobody would fall for that much of a scam!”
“Maybe if they were part of the scam?”
“It would seem! No sense in wasting the day here. I have what I want.”
“Well, we’re here. Want to spend some time getting to know each other better?” He was trying not to laugh out loud.
“Okay. Depends on which end of the stick you want to get to know,” Clint answered, innocently. “If I’m pitching and you’re catching, I might!” They joked all the way back to Isla Colón.
Clint decided to get in some few groceries before heading back home. He ran into the group of doctors as they were leaving the almacen counter, so stopped to greet them.
“We were heading out to the station wanted to take a few-odd things because (Dr.) Alice (Beckman) and I will probably stay on out there for a few days,” (Dr.) Enzio (Marcos) explained. “Seems every time we stay we have to bring stuff that should be there anyhow. And food, of course.
“Oh, yes! Clint! You haven’t met Dr. Goodwin or Dr. Franklin, have you? Allen Goodwin and Ben Franklin – and no cutesy remarks, please – this is Clint Faraday, our local cop show hero.”
Clint shook hands with the two and Alice dropped her purse. A few things spilled out and Clint quickly picked them up and handed the purse to her. She nodded at him and they went out toward the docks. Clint had picked up the receipt to shove it back in the purse and had as much as memorized it. He had a photographic memory. It seemed normal enough. Eggs, some canned goods, some cheese, paring knife, matches, baking soda, potato peeler, some flour, some sugar, some cinnamon. A normal list. Each item was listed for the institute because they paid at the end of the month.
The doctors went on and Clint went inside. Sylvia Goldman was just leaving and he said “hello!” to her. He noted that there was a definite similarity between her and Dr. Beckman.
Oh, yeah. Goldman, Beckman. Jewish racial traits. Here where the traits were so different you sometimes get to thinking everyone not like the locals looks alike. That one is Spanish, that one has some black traits, that one is mostly Indio. Those are Europeans, so they all look alike except hair color and weight and height, of course. He mustn’t get into that trap if he was going to do any detecting.
Hell! He was retired, so he wasn’t getting into any detecting. Unless it was a puzzle that needed solving, which he could never resist. Or if the local cops or friends asked him to look at something. It was something to do and this embezzlement thing had some very glaring inconsistencies where the general kind of thing followed a pattern.
There was a pattern here, but what was it? Like the traits, he was letting the local flavor and attitude screw up the way he looked at things.
THAT had to stop!
Clint went to Judi’s place after putting the groceries away, but she wasn’t around so he went fishing. He puttered around for most of the day, then remembered the e-mail so deleted fourteen spams and read two messages. Donna, from the institute, wanted him to look into the people at the institute and Dr. Goodwin wanted to meet with him tomorrow if it was okay. It was about Enzio saying he was a cop or something such and he didn’t think the local gendarmes could handle what was most probably a strictly white-collar crime. After all, this wasn’t Panama City.
Clint answered that he would check out the things that Donna asked about and replied that he would meet with Dr. Goodwin tomorrow at noon (actual, not local time) at the Laguna Restaurant.
(Here in Panamá one must get used to the way an hour is specified for an appointment. Noon, local time, can mean anything from two or three o’clock to sometime tomorrow or next day. Actual or gringo time means the specified hour – CD)
There was a call from out front so he went out to see three women and two men standing there. They were a middle-aged couple and a young friend they met on the water taxi from Almirante. They had read about him in the papers back home a few years ago and were surprised to find he was here, recognizing him fro
m the pictures and not too many people spoke English here and they just stopped by to say, “Hi!” to him and....
He was used to that, at times. He was about to be pleasant as he told them he had a date, but noted that Rebecca (“Call me Becks! Everyone does!”) was single and attractive and did give him a speculative look. She was on vacation and wanted an adventure.
“Yo! Come on in! I’m just fixing coffee. Want a cup?”
Becks did, but the Moores, Fred and Mabel, would be awake all night if they drank coffee this late and it had already been a long day, seeing they got the 6:00AM water taxi from Almirante. They could only stay a minute because it would get dark soon and they had to walk back to Bocas Town.
“Grab a taxi,” Clint suggested. “A buck for the two of you into town.”
Becks noted he had said “Two of you,” and grinned impishly at him. “Two?” she asked.
“Well, I figured, seeing you’re single you might like to stroll into Bocas for a snack or something?” Clint replied.
“Oh, don’t be silly!” Mabel exclaimed. “We’re not prudes OR stupid! You aren’t strolling anywhere!
“Come on, Fred. Let the kids have a little romp. It’s harmless fun on a vacation. We can do the strolling and it won’t get too dark for the moon tonight. This rain is almost over and it’s clearing already.
“You DID take your pill, My Dear?
“I love walking in the rain.”
“She’s practical and pretty smart!” Fred confided. “You ain’t no kid and this happens for you probably once a week, at least. I would be jealous as hell if Mabel couldn’t handle that stuff better than anybody you’ll ever meet!
“Let’s go, Hon!”
Clint grinned. Becks giggled. It was a great night.
Clint went out on the deck with his coffee, waved to Judi and laid back on the lounge. He was wearing a jock strap in respect for Becks, who was still asleep. She hadn’t told him she was a virgin, but he hoped he had made her first time a memorable one. He also hoped she was, as Mabel warned, on the pill.
Well, she was intelligent, so she would be. She had definite plans when she came on this vacation alone and Panamá, particularly Bocas del Toro, was known as a place where one could find casual sex in whatever form one sought.
Clint grinned to himself and looked to see the police boat heading for the institute at full speed. Something must have happened out there. Maybe they found who the embezzler was.
He sighed and picked up his phone to turn it on and get any voice messages. There were several of them and they all said the same thing.
Donna Dorman had been found with her throat cut at the institute station about half an hour ago. Even the police had asked that he go to the station to help. They weren’t used to the murder bit other than “normal” rage or domestic violences and he could probably be a valuable aide to them.
“Yo! Becks!” he called. She answered sleepily a minute later.
“I have to get to the station. There’s been a crime. Will I see you tonight?”
“Don’t I wish! I have to get to Changuinola, then to the hotel in Costa Rica tonight.
“If I was sure ... I’ve already paid for it or I’d change my schedule! Damn!”
“Well, just set the catch when you go out. I really wish I could be sure I’d be here and I’d convince you to stay, but these things can get messy. They aren’t predictable and murder is pretty serious here. There just isn’t much of it.”
“Clint, I think I had the greatest time I’ve ever had last night. I was a little – I was VERY apprehensive, but you made it wonderful! I know I’m just another silly girl to you, but I thank you for making last night the most special night in my life!
“So far!”
“You are special. Don’t get into the trap of thinking it will ever be the same again. It can be as good, but it will not be the same.
“You want the truth? I thought it would be another good night, I’d get off, you’d get off and it’s been great fun, let’s do it again sometime, then I’d never see you again. It wasn’t like that. I don’t expect much and ninety-nine percent of the time I don’t get much. You’re special. Don’t cheapen it, okay?”
“You’re saying to not turn into a whore because I’ll just be disappointed most of the time,” she said, seriously. “I think it would be easy to do. I won’t. I’ll think about it a lot and look at the odds of several things and won’t do it. Thanks.”
He kissed her solidly and headed for his boat. Maybe she did have the sense to know that first time is special – if you even remember it, that is. Clint wished he could remember his first time, but he started when he was very young. Twelve. With a babysitter. He’d been addicted to sex ever since. He remembered the babysitter, which went (off and) on for three years, but not that first time.
His boat wasn’t nearly as fast as the police boat so they had been waiting there for ten minutes or so before he arrived. He tied on the other side of the dock and went to talk with Capt. Menendez and Sgt. Llanas, who said they had instructed the people to seal the room and see that no one entered other than to determine that Donna was really dead. They knew how easy it is to contaminate evidence, but they didn’t have the resources found in the states.
“I doubt this will require that kind of thing,” Clint advised. “We can take the regular samples for DNA or whatever. I hope you have the kit?”
“We have it, but don’t know how to use it except to read the instructions and they aren’t clear unless you know science,” Capt. Menendez pointed out. “Do you know how to use it?”
“A good bit of it. You have a good camera I see and I brought my digital so we can cover that first part very thoroughly. I know how to take DNA samples. You get them on the little Q-Tip things and put them in the little test tubes, seal them and mark them with the number on the tags. You take a picture before the tag is placed, then a couple with the tag there, then put the tag number on the test tube. Don’t try to complicate it and don’t try for a better system. Simple is the only way to be sure we don’t screw it up.”
“You can show me how with the first one, then I can do it, I think” Sgt. Llanas promised. Clint knew he was an intelligent man and wouldn’t mess things up.
“Fine. Then let’s get at it,” Clint suggested. “The witnesses can wait a few minutes until we have the system, then Mario (Menendez) and I can question them while you get the samples.”
“Something I heard. ‘Witness’ is what it well might be about,” Menendez replied, drily.
Routine
The scene was a bit bloody, but a cut throat almost has to be. Clint noted the spatter patterns as he took photos and the fact Donna had been sitting in a chair typing on the comp where she was attacked from behind. It didn’t take much strength, so a woman could have done it.
Whoever did it didn’t know much about comps. This one was on network so the fact the symbol box noting the hard drive was erased and ready to accept programming would mean nothing.
“Mario, get all fingerprints from the keyboard,” Clint advised. “Our killer probably wore gloves, but may have screwed up when the drive erasure was typed in. There would be blood on the gloves so they might have been removed. Get the mouse, too. Maybe the disk drives and ... get the disks themselves, though the important ones definitely will NOT still be here.”
“I agree. I’ll print everything here, but there isn’t anyone here who wouldn’t have a perfectly good excuse for their prints to be anywhere in this room.”
“But they might have a problem explaining why their prints are on TOP of the dead woman’s?” Clint finished for him. Mario nodded and gave him a thumb up.
Clint took a few dozen pictures in the room and the body and blood spatter from all angles, then went into the common room to speak with the people there.
“Yo, Clint!” Judi Lum greeted. “I saw the police boat, then you, so came out. I didn’t expect this!”
“You’ll have to handle this with some discretion,�
� Dr. Graham declared, seriously. “The institute cannot be saddled with some sordid affair if some clerk was killed by a jealous lover or something!”
“Lydia! What .?! What a totally inappropriate ... How can you be so insensitive!?” Dr. Porth cried, exasperated. “Donna wasn’t killed by any jealous lover! She was always ... what is the matter with you lately!? You never ... what is the matter with you?!”
“Alright, can it!” Clint demanded. “Save the theatrics for someone who’ll fall for it! I’m only here in an advisory capacity. Captain Menendez is in charge. He’s asked for help because he’s shorthanded and no one here has much experience with this kind of murder. You can answer my questions or you can refuse. I suggest you remember you aren’t in the states or Canada or wherever and we operate with different rules – but you’re still in a position to decide who questions you – and how. I have a list of your names and have met some of you. I’ll call – Judi, you want to help so you can be the one who takes whatever notes if you will. You can call the people as they appear on the list. We’re to use ... consultation room three. That’s the second on the left down that hall.” He pointed to the hall to their right and handed Judi the list, then headed toward the room as Menendez came into the room to announce that Judi, being a suspect, might not be a good choice.
“I’m a suspect?!” Judi cried, just as Clint said, “Judi? Suspect?”
“The condition of the body suggests she died late last evening or early this morning,” Menendez said. “Miss Lum was here yesterday afternoon.”
“So! Why did you off her?” Clint asked, grinning. “Like being a suspect in a murder? Isn’t it great fun?”
