Clint Faraday Mysteries collection A Muddled Murders Collector's Edition

by Moulton, CD

  “They are not bad people, but are very stupid people, but Alicia is very persuasive. The man has already paid all the price he will be charged and the woman will live with her stupidity. Alicia has gone toward Costa Rica. My promise to you does not include but Panam.”

  “Very true. I wish you and the children bien viaje.”

  “Thank you. I think I like and respect you, Clint Faraday. If you ever need a favor, you need but ask.”

  Clint got his boat and headed back to Bocas. That one could have gotten damned hairy. If those children had been hurt in any way ... but it turned out pretty good.

  Maybe he’d stop by the Zapatillas on his way back. He could use a lobster for dinner. He had the time.

  Clint Faraday Mysteries

  #5

  Dangerous Curves

  all rights reserved: no part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, either 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. All resemblances to persons, living or dead, or events are coincidental unless otherwise stated.

  Clint flies from Panamá City to Bocas del Toro where a beautiful woman flirts with him. He makes a date with her for that night. Strange things start to happen around him, there is a murder – that she seems to be mixed up in, somehow

  Contents

  Trash and Treasures

  Drizzly Day

  Nice Day

  Weird Day

  Dark Day

  Off Center Day

  Busy Day

  Deadly Day

  Family Day

  Dangerous Curves

  What to Do

  Night Driving

  Famously Assholes

  Trash and Treasures

  Drizzly Day

  It was a bit drippy when Clint Faraday, retired detective from Florida, boarded the plane in Panamá City for the flight to Bocas Town on Isla Colón. The rain had stopped and it was going to soon turn into a nice enough day, now that he was leaving.

  Well, Judi (Lum, neighbor) said it was nice in Bocas. He would get home early enough to enjoy a couple of hours of the afternoon.

  He was seated just in front of the wing, window seat. Next to him was a rather attractive – well, a knockout, really – woman of about twenty six or eight years. Fantastic shape, about 5'8", reddish mahogany hair past her shoulders, green eyes, perfect teeth, even medium tan.

  She smiled and said her name was Gina. Gina Halverson. She was Colombian, not a gringo, though both her parents were from the states. She was a secretary to a semi-politician, lawyer and stock dealer, among other things. She had a job in Bocas Town that started in the morning. A stock and real estate dealer she knew from Colombia. He had worked with her father, though she didn’t know him well or much about him.

  Clint introduced himself, said he was a gringo – at the moment.

  “At the moment?”

  “As soon as I can, I’ll become Panameño. I love this place.”

  “I can see why. It’s beautiful. I really like the people, though some of them can be pains in the ass.”

  Clint laughed. “Yeah. Some of any people can be pains in the ass. I particularly like the Indios. They’re very real people.”

  “I tend to like the indigenos in Colombia. They are, as you say, people who are very real. I know I’ll like you. We share a philosophy. The ones who I can’t stand here and anywhere else are the arrogant bigots. They too seldom have anything to be arrogant about.”

  “Well, seeing as we are destined to like each other, maybe I can show you around Bocas this evening?”

  “THAT, I think, would be very ... pleasant.”

  They talked about a number of things. Clint found she agreed with him in most things. It was going to be a great evening. He could feel it.

  Nice Day

  It was as nice in Bocas as Judi had promised, Clint noted as he disembarked. It would be a little hot – this was the tropics – but there was a steady breeze off the Caribbean, so it would be comfortable if he didn’t overdress. He helped Gina get to the Bahia, then went home to be greeted by Judi. She said things were as she liked them. Slow and calm. Even the tourists seemed to be in a good mood.

  Judi is an attractive oriental woman who had been friends with Clint since he moved next door to her five years ago. She had been a great help in some of his cases. She was one of the four people in Panam who knew who Manny Mathews was. (Marko Boccini, a major mafia don from the states who had moved there to escape what he was and to raise a family who wouldn’t be ashamed of how Pops made his.)

  Clint told her about the strange things his last case was still turning up. She told him all the gossip from Bocas. Same old same old, except the Wild Bill had been caught and was the reason some of their friends had disappeared over the last few years. They both knew him slightly from seeing him around Bocas and in David and Volcan. “They’ve dug up five bodies already. We knew them all.”

  Clint shook his head. You’d think a detective would have noticed something about him other than his tendency to overreact to some things. If Clint had checked on him he would have found he was wanted in the states for years.

  You live and learn, then you die. Sometimes, or you die.

  Clint told Judi about Gina. Judi said he seemed awfully focused on her. Was she going to turn him into a boring one-woman man? (Clint was known as a good time, but no commitments type.)

  “She’s half my age. I’d consider it, I think. We get along on a different level than I’m used to.”

  Judi laughed and shook her finger at him. “Slow down, Don Juan! You aren’t in Kansas anymore, you know!”

  “Thank whatever gods may be!” Clint said and gave her the one finger salute.

  Clint laid around, went through his e-mail, then got ready and went to pick up Gina, who was overdressed. He told her that would be too hot. People don’t dress up for much of anything in Bocas. She sighed and said that was too much to hope for. She’d be right back! She went back inside and came out a few minutes later in a light skirt and top. She’d also undone her hair and tied it up. Her heels were gone and she had on the same kind of footwear that Clint was wearing. Sandals (Changcletas, here)

  They went to El Ultima Refugio for a fantastic meal, then walked around a bit. They stopped various other places for Clint to introduce his friends. Everyone said Dave (his nutty author/musician friend) was playing at the Lemon Grass, so they went there. Dave was an ex-rock guitarist who now did all kinds of music. All the local musicians came and went. It was a great night. While Rob was doing a couple of Dead numbers Dave came to be introduced. He introduced Selma, a woman he had dated in the states who was visiting. She had never been to Panamá or Bocas and was thinking of staying. It was a paradise! Dave had lived with her in Florida a bit and she could stay at his place until she decided whether she preferred Bocas, Puerto Armuelles, Chitre, David or wherever.

  “Won’t that interfere with your open sex life?” Clint asked innocently.

  “Not really. My sex life is almost nonexistent anymore,” Dave fired back.

  “Oh. I thought you and Bobby had a bit of a thing,” Clint replied, still oh-so-innocently.

  Dave wasn’t going to be outdone. “And?” He was a close friend of Bobby, a known gay man, as was Clint. Even though such things weren’t thought much about here, Clint doubted Dave would be interested ... still?

  Selma caught on. “Oh, we don’t put silly limitations on each other. I have my thing, he has his. The only thing that’s set in stone is that we don’t either one bring something home like AIDS or a couple of others. You won’t live long enough for THAT to kill you!”

  They laughed about it and talked about Wild Bill a bit. He knew Dave better than he knew Clint. Dave had always said there was something a little scary abou
t him, but what had happened was beyond anything considered. They talked about the new businesses in town (most of which would be gone in six months) and Dave went back to do a few numbers. He would be playing at Lily’s Saturday.

  Clint went home. Gina went with him. She said she really liked his friends, so far. They seemed as natural as the Indios. She thought Dave was a lot better musician than you’d expect to meet in such a place.

  “You wouldn’t believe who comes here.” He told her about a few of the people Dave played with and for back in the late sixties, such as Janis Joplin.

  It was a perfect night. Clint was up at five thirty and was laying in the lounge on his deck with coffee to watch the sunrise. Gina came out and said she would fix some breakfast. What did he want?

  “Hojaldres and coffee and maybe some bolitas,” Clint replied. “We can walk into town and get something at Don Chichos or Chitres.”

  “I make hojaldres and the coffee’s made. You have ground meat for the bolitas?”

  Clint told her where to find everything and said she didn’t have to cook.

  “Why not? I do every morning at home,” she replied. “I usually don’t care for the hojaldres in the cafés. They make them with too much sugar and get them too soft or too hard. Panameños use too much salt.”

  She even liked the same cooking as Clint!

  They sat around after the truly delicious breakfast for a few minutes, then Clint made chicha from a guanabana he’d bought from an Indio who came to his dock with anything special. Gina had never tasted it before and said it was the most delicious fruit drink she’d ever tasted!

  Clint began to wonder if maybe she could make a one-woman man of him! It was too good to be real! He sure as hell wasn’t going to fight it.

  Gina had to be at work at eight thirty, so Clint walked into town with her. She met Bobby, who was a neighbor. He confided in her that he had tried to get Clint into bed for five years and he wasn’t going to stop trying just because some fantastic-looking bitch was in the way. She laughed and said to go for it, but no man would look at him after spending an hour with her!

  When they left Bobby at the Hawaii Gina said she liked his friends – even the beyond-the-normal ones.

  “Beyond the normal? Like who?”

  “Oh, come on, Clint! There’s no way you can say Dave’s norm ... well, here. The ones who are boringly normal lumps back home would be the abnormal ones here!”

  “We all like to have fun. No one takes offense. We can joke about it.”

  She nodded. “I see that. Not much is weird or strange here.”

  That would soon change.

  “Clint!” Judi called across the bay from her deck. “Phone!”

  Clint raised an eyebrow and went inside to call Judi.

  “Something weird is happening,” she reported. “It may be connected to ... but it can’t be!

  “Remember that land on the point just below The Bluffs? With those coconuts and pineapples and yuca?”

  Clint said he did.

  “There was a report that there may be a body buried there, so Serg (police. Sergio Valdez) went out and used a probe in all the likely areas.

  “They didn’t find a body. They found a treasure chest. Lots of gold and emeralds and such. Doubloons and crucifixes and the regular things. It was a large chest, I understand.”

  “It isn’t the first pirate treasure found around here,” Clint pointed out.

  “And about a million and a half in dollars. That kind of thing was found around here, too, but not in the same box!

  “You never turn your phone on. Serg wants you to come out. You can take the boat.”

  Clint looked at his phone. It was on, but on silent ring mode. He sighed and said he’d go. She said to pick her up. This, she had to see.

  He called Sergio on his private celular. He said there were some things Clint would find very interesting in the chest. It was also interesting that there was such a call that would lead them to this kind of thing. He couldn’t trace who had made the call. Gloria thinks it was a woman, but she’s not sure. They hung up too soon.

  Clint said he’d be there in twenty minutes, then called Manolo, an interpol agent (No one but Clint and a couple of friends knew that), to ask if he had a clue. Nothing.

  Clint picked Judi up at her dock and headed for the point, then to where he could see the police and a bunch of gawkers. He beached the boat and walked over to look at the chest.

  It was definitely an old chest. It was covered in copper that was almost oxidized through in spots. It was about four feet by two and maybe twenty inches deep. The jewelry and such was certainly authentic. The stacks of hundred dollar bills looked real to Clint.

  “Judging by the series on the bills, this has been here about fifty years,” Sergio said.. Clint shook his head.

  “There’s something on a few of the bands on the money. B. B. y H. H. Mean anything?” He showed a band to Clint. It was in marker, hand written. Clint shook his head.

  This was weird. Surely no one who knew about that kind of treasure would report it to the police! They could get every bit of it and be gone before anyone knew about it. They could dig it up, clean out the chest and rebury it and no one would know. It would be a truly rare accident for anyone to be where they could see what was going on there. It was hidden enough that regular traffic on the Caribbean wouldn’t see them there. His only clue was some initials or a code or something.

  He talked with a few people, then said he was going back. Judi said there wasn’t anything that struck her.

  Silvio Guerra, an Indio friend, caught Clint’s eye and motioned with his head. Clint mouthed “Casa?” and Silvio nodded. Silvio had a small place just past The Bluffs going toward Bocas Town.

  Clint and Judi headed back home.

  “Que paso?” Clint greeted Silvio.

  “Ola, Clint. (Rest translated) I thought I would tell you that there was someone where they found the treasure last night. A woman, I think. She was there just when the moon came up over Carenero. She had a machine like they use on the beach to find money.”

  “A metal detector?

  “The moon isn’t far past full, so it was about eight thirty or nine. Did she come by boat?”

  “I did not see. I don’t ... she ... I was in my cayuca coming back from Drago. I think ... maybe there was a small ... one of those jet ski things.”

  “Oh. Then from Bocas,” Clint replied.

  “They have them at the Playa Mango and some of those places,” Silvio pointed out. Clint nodded and thanked him, then went back toward his house.

  A woman. From Bocas on a jet ski or PWC. He went into Bocas to ask around the places those were available to find none were out past about six the night before. He got on his motorcycle and rode out to several of the hotels that had jet skis and PWC’s for their guests (rented at ridiculous prices, but, if you could spend 125 bucks per night you could afford 50 for a jet ski for an hour). The only possibility was at Caracol. Three of the personal cabins on the water had PWC’s.

  Donald Ferguson and family, from New Jersey, Betina Blakley from Houston, and Frank Glissom from Atlanta. Nothing rang a bell. A call to Manolo told him none of them were on a watch list. A call to Manny resulted in nothing further.

  One of those three was implicated. He would have to opt for Betina Blakley because of the ‘B. B.’ on those bands. He didn’t have another hint of a clue.

  Betina Blakley stayed in her cabin, alone. No one noted when she was or wasn’t there unless she left a message to tell someone where she was.

  “She did that?” Clint asked.

  “We don’t answer questions about the guests here!” Nick, the manager, snapped.

  “I’ll be back with the police. You can explain why they were here,” Clint said. “About an hour. Right at dinnertime. We’ll look for you in the restaurant about then?”

  He sighed. “What do you want to know?”

  “If she left any messages for anyone and who. Not conten
t, unless it was criminal.”

  He went to a spike with notes on it and went through them. “She left a message for anyone twice that merely said she was going to Drago for the day and one to a Raul Avenidas saying she would come to the office about four. Today.”

  “Thanks. Not much there and certainly not criminal. I hope I won’t have to bother you again.”

  He called Manolo and asked about a Raul Avenidas. There was a pause for about thirty seconds, then Manolo said it was possible he was being watched for jewel theft. He seemed to have a source of antiques that wasn’t explained, though, so far as they knew, none of it was stolen. It was from some years ago, not recent.

  Clint told him about the chest. He was very interested, but would play it quietly. He couldn’t figure what it was, except that Avenidas might have found the chest and had been letting items out a little at a time.

  “For how long? Fifty years?” Clint asked.

  “No. He’s only been at it for about twelve years. He’s in his early forties.”

  Clint thanked him, then headed for the police station. He asked Sergio to check out Raul Avenidas very thoroughly. They might have a break. He then went home, got a call from Gina and prepared to take her to a few places. She wanted to try the food at The Lemon Grass, so they would start there.

  They chatted a bit about her day. She went to the hotel and changed while Clint talked with people he knew on the verandah.

  “I had a good enough day, I guess. It’s mostly sitting around and answering the phone,” Gina said as they strolled toward The Lemon Grass. “Only one person came into the office. A woman who wants to invest in something or other. The boss was fawning all over her. It was mostly kind of boring. The only thing that makes it a good thing is that I have the total night to do as I please.