Clint Faraday Mysteries Collection B :This Job is Murder Collector's Edition

by Moulton, CD

  Gina said they had better go to the camp and wait until morning to start digging. Valdez agreed. They got into the boat and headed out. When they were gone for twenty minutes Clint had Eladio, a friend from Bocas Town, take him on his fast boat to Cusapín. He had an idea things might get a bit testy before morning. Maybe none of them would be around by then.

  Clint called Goins to see what was happening in Puerto Armuelles. Goins said he had secured the money in the bank because he could show he was owed almost half of it for the land he sold them on contingency. If they tried to abscond with the funds they were in for a real surprise! He seemed very self-satisfied to Clint.

  Clin called Judi Lum, his attractive neighbor who helped with a lot of his cases. She was very expert about collecting odd information from an unexpected angle. She said she would find out what she could. Who needed investigating?

  “Ralph Goins, Puerto Armuelles. And find out which lawyers he uses. Something is very strange about this mess,” Clint answered.

  “Dave came in with umpty-dozen new orchids. They’re hanging all over my place and his. Even Ben has some for him,” she replied. “He said you were in some kind of weird situation in Cusapín and along the coast. Two people were already dead. Some people told you they were looking for medicinal plants, but ... Clint?”

  Clint had let out a snort. Why didn’t any of them react when they learned the Nesmiths were no longer among the living?

  Because everything is exactly according to plan, stupid! That meant the Littletons knew their great buddies and partners would kill off those two. That meant they knew damned well they were to be next – unless they made those great buddies the next two. This could get very interesting. Clint wondered who was manipulating whom.

  He got a silly grin on his face. “It won’t work, pal!” he exclaimed.

  “What won’t work?” Judi asked.

  “A scheme within a scheme within a scheme. I wonder if that’s the whole thing?”

  “You never make any damned sense!”

  “Nothing about this does unless you look at it from.... I don’t know if this is fun or scary or just so screwed up it can’t ... I’ll know more by morning – but will it be enough?

  “Judi, there’s a person involved in this no one suspects. I think I know who.”

  “I won’t even ask what you’re blabbing about.”

  “I wonder. Do any of them have a clue?”

  “About what?”

  “About anything at all. I think we’re in the middle of a bunch of crooked idiots! I really do!”

  Judi knew he wouldn’t make any sense. He had figured what was going on and how to counter it or something. She would learn about it when it was done.

  They soon said their “Good lucks!” and hung up. Clint went to Andres’ place and looked over the hundreds of orchids etc. Dave had planted there. Andres said he couldn’t believe it, but he was getting really interested in the things. He never had any idea there were so many different kinds. He had planted more than two hundred plants there – and no two were the same species! Some of the tiny bright flowers were amazingly beautiful when you magnified them!

  He then went to the homes (Indios don’t live in houses. They live in homes) of friends until nearly midnight, then went to bed. Tomorrow would prove interesting.

  In the early morning Moises took Clint to the Century. Clint called out, but there was no answer. He sighed and said for Moises to come with him to see if any of them were still alive.

  Valdez was. Just barely. Zacharia was dead by the tent. Valdez was unconscious near the fire. The Littletons were in their tent, him with his head split open and her from having her head almost severed with a machete.

  “I wish I knew what poison she fed them,” Clint complained. “I might even try to keep him alive to hear his explanation of this crap!”

  He remembered the purse Gina had taken into the restroom in Chiriqui Grande and looked for it. It was there. It had a syringe with about a third of a reddish-yellow liquid still in the barrel. She had apparently injected the stuff into the juice cartons with the ultra-thin needle. That small a hole would seal itself almost entirely in those paper cartons.

  Clint smelled it, but it wasn’t cyanide and he knew it. It had a sweet smell not unlike burnt maple syrup.

  Moises smelled it and said he thought it was Sangria del Diablo. If Valdez lived he would be a vegetable. It ate parts of the mind up. The Cuna Yala used it some. He had no idea how Littleton got hold of any. They would never trust a gringo with it. Period!

  Clint thought a minute, then suggested Moises report the finding of the bodies when he went to ask why those people were on the comarca without permission. In about two hours. Valdez wouldn’t live that long without attention. It was better he died than that he live in a vegetative state for others to take care of.

  Moises agreed. He would come out tomorrow to ask what the strangers were doing there.

  Clint found the maps and the camera. He took some correspondence in a locked case. A name he was beginning to suspect was in the case. Gina Littleton had the key in that purse where he found the syringe.

  “Clint, take the poison,” Moises requested. “I think it was to appear that my people did this. The person or persons behind it do not know that the poison is not used here. It is from the Cuna.”

  Clint agreed and took the syringe and a small bottle that seemed to be where she carried the stuff. He went through a lot of other things, but didn’t find much.

  When they were leaving a small boy came from the forest and asked why all the gringos were dead.

  “Because they were very evil,” Moises replied. “They were trying to make it look like our people did this, but they knew not enough. It is better that you did not and do not know anything about them except that they had a camp here. You do not know of anything past yesterday morning because you have to work with the family and have no time for these strange and evil people.”

  This was, of course, in the dialect. Clint spoke it fairly well so knew what was said. The boy would be very careful to not let anyone except his family know anything about it. He would never say anything to anyone and would answer as Moises requested if anyone ever asked him about them.

  The boy said “Coin dega,”(Good morning) to Clint and went up the beach and into the forest. Clint knew the home was somewhere close by, probably back from the beach half a kilometer and by the stream that came out here.

  Clint and Moises searched a bit more in the area, went through the Century very carefully, where Moises found some papers hidden under the console along with an old .38 Police Special.

  There was a permit with the pistol authorizing Conway Goins to carry it.

  Interesting. Clint considered taking it, changed his mind, then said, “To hell with it! It could be important!” and took it.

  They got into Moises’ cayuca and went back to Cusapín.

  Judi had called while he was out of range of the celular. He called her to hear, “Clint, Goins is acting a little strange, according to Gena Castilas. He seems to be scared of something and is more or less in hiding. His lawyer is Elena Vargas. She thinks two people from Colombia or somewhere are using the same one – and that Goins didn’t know that until yesterday when he got some kind of information from the bank about their account. She doesn’t know what’s going on. Vargas and Goins having the same lawyer in a deal with him and some gringos and none of them seemed to know about any others.

  “Vargas is known to be corrupt as they come. Maybe she was doing the old Panamanian thing – representing both sides in a case and she comes out the only winner.

  “Does that help?”

  “If you only knew! It makes my suspect list turn upside down! Judi, I don’t know what I’d do without you and Dave finding odd things for me.

  “The whole bunch out here are dead, but you don’t know anything about that until the police announce it, Okay? I’m not supposed to know, either.”

  “So you found th
e bodies? What happened? Somebody they were working a scam on found them?”

  Clint laughed. “The schemes were with them working to screw each other out of a fortune. I’ll tell you about it when I get back. It would be funny as hell if the Nesmiths hadn’t been offed.”

  “Which ones did that?” Judi asked. “I really don’t have a clue about what you’re saying, but it’s fascinating!”

  “They all did that, or manipulated the others into doing it. Now they only have ... I think I should go to Puerto Armuelles, all innocence and, `Oh! Gee whiz and golly-gosh! Look at what happened to all those lovely people! I really am wondering, why would anyone do such a terrible thing?!’ or something.”

  “Clint, be careful!”

  “THAT is something that doesn’t need saying. Thanks, Judi.”

  They chatted a few minutes about their friends in Bocas, then said they’d keep in close touch. If anyone asked about anything at all to do with this she would put on her airheaded bimbo act.

  Clint couldn’t suddenly go to Puerto Armuelles. He had to wait until Moises “found” the bodies and called him to report the deaths. He went to Basilio’s place and they talked about the world and how it had gone to hell everywhere except the comarcas. Clint turned in about one.

  “Clint, I am here with Capitan Oliveros of the Policia Nacional,” Moises said when he called at a few minutes past ten in the morning. “It seems those gringos I told you about are all dead.”

  Clint knew the celular was on speaker because he could here the background noise, so answered, “What does that have to do with you? They aren’t in Chiriqui Grande?”

  “No. They had a camp here on the comarca, maybe four kilometers from Cusapín. Two of them are dead and the policia can’t find why. The other two were killed with a machete or hatchet or something.”

  Another voice came on then. “This is Thomas Oliveros. I worked with you a few months ago in David when those people from the Estados Unidas were trying to find the woman in Peru.

  “Clint, this looks damned suspicious. It looks like the gringos people had poisoned the two Latinos and the Latinos killed them for it or ... that doesn’t fit because she would not have been in the tent.

  “I agree with Moises. Someone else did it and is trying to make it appear the indigenos killed them or something. Moises tells me you may know something about it because you were with him a couple of days ago when he confronted them about taking things from the comarca without permiso. They told you they were doctors investigating new medicines or something?”

  “That’s what they said, but they didn’t know anything at all about medicinal plants and didn’t even have a camera with them. Two of them were murdered out there three days ago. The Nesmith people.”

  “They were ... Moises, why didn’t you tell me that?”

  “You didn’t ask. I didn’t know it was that important.”

  Clint almost giggled out loud. Moises could pull that off. “Gee! I didn’t think the fact two other gringos we saw with this bunch getting murdered a couple of days earlier in the same area was something to do one with the other.”

  Oliveros sighed. “I can never figure what the indigenos consider to be important information. They have these little things that don’t connect in their minds for some reason.”

  “That kind of information won’t connect unless someone suggests it,” Clint said, hiding the laughter in his voice behind a cough. “It isn’t pertinent to life on the comarca. It seems to be something that happens to a lot of gringos. Such a sad lifestyle.”

  “I often wish that I could be as basic as they are. They have a really enviable life.”

  They chatted a few minutes longer. Moises came back on to say he would be back later if this policia thing didn’t delay him. He had to tally all the coffee and cocoa being dried so they could take it to the market in Chiriqui Grande. His wife was out of rice and was giving him lectures about neglecting the home needs. Clint could picture the exasperation on Oliveros’ face. Four murders and the one who found the bodies is worried about getting on the bad side of his wife for not bringing the rice on time! They soon rang off. Clint now had a perfect excuse to go to Puerto Armuelles to consult with Goins about this strange set of events – and what the hell is it all about?

  Port Call

  Clint got off the bus and saw Goins standing in the doorway to a small local restaurant. He had called and said he was on the way. Goins was obviously trying to keep out of sight.

  “Hi! Let’s grab a beer. I’ve done nothing but ride buses all day,” Clint greeted.

  “Er, I have beer and some good stuff to snack on in my apartment,” Goins replied. “I want to lay low until I find out what’s going on.

  “You just said all of them are dead? Even Valdez and company?

  “I thought they were running the scam. Why would they be dead?”

  “Everybody in this mess is running scams. All of them have backfired except the top rung. You ain’t it, much as you thought you were,” Clint said dryly.

  Goins didn’t deny it. He looked scared and sick. Clint walked with him to his apartment where he had to go through three sets of locked doors to get into his apartment. Clint looked around the setup and shook his head.

  “What?”

  Clint gave Goins a look of pure pity. “You have all those locked doors and bars except for that big glass door onto your balcony?”

  Goins looked shocked and mumbled that the balcony wasn’t where anyone could get to it.

  “Crap! I can come over that roof and drop onto it without even using a security rope.”

  “I’d hear you on that zinc roof!”

  “Not if you’re not here when I come in.” Clint inspected the door and asked if Goins always left it unlocked.

  “Never!”

  “Then someone’s already been through it since you last checked it,” Clint warned. “You can get past the lock on these doors like this.”

  He locked the door catch, inserted the blade of his pocket knife under the door and pried up. The whole side of the door raised about a quarter inch. Clint dropped it back and slid the door open.

  “All you have to do is slide the stop over the lock and you can’t do that.”

  “God! I never thought about that! I just snap the lock shut!”

  “Well, now that the horses are stolen you can lock the barn. Got Balboa?”

  Goins was shaky and pale. Clint was enjoying that. Goins got the beer from the ‘fridge and poured himself a double Chivas Regal on the rocks. They sat at the kitchen table.

  “What was here for someone to steal?” Clint asked. “Is it something they just have to know about or something they would take?”

  Goins got up and went into the bedroom. He stayed a couple of minutes and came back.

  “Things have been moved. I left some traps. They wanted a look at the account freeze information, I guess.”

  “Who’s doing this to me! Why?”

  “Licenciada Elena Vargas, because you’re no longer necessary to the plan. You know what happens to anyone who becomes, shall we say, redundant. Exactly the way you set it up. You were being used the same way you used the Nesmiths and Littletons. You damned well know how that was handled long before you even got involved. If it weren’t for the fact the Nesmiths were just two people who got suckered into it and died as a result I’d let her take care of you, then take her down. I still might.”

  “Clint! I swear! I never thought they would do anything to the Nesmiths other than deplete their bank account by half a million. They wouldn’t have been hurt by that. They knew the target was being sought in an illegal manner so they weren’t all that innocent. I did NOT have any idea they would be hurt. I knew damned well the Littletons and Guila and Fred would end up, one set of them, dead. Big boo-hoo!”

  “I agree none of them were a loss. Anyone like them, someone who goes into a scheme where they kill someone else for money, knows the rules of that game. It’s a risk YOU took along with them.
Why do every one of you think you’re somehow outside the rules? Are you all so damned stupid ... you’re just like politicians. The rules apply to others, not you.

  “Got news for you, chump! You went into this with your eyes wide open. You put the blinders on yourself. Now you’re playing last hand. You or Elena win – or the house takes the pot. I’m going to see that the house takes the pot. That puts me at the same risk as you and the lovely Elena. I think I’m good enough at the game to beat someone who lets little details slip by them.”

  Goins was about to cry. “Little details?”

  “Lock the place and leave that balcony door unsecured? That’s the little detail that could have ended your seat at the game.”

  Goins thought hard for a few minutes and Clint sipped the beer. He wasn’t worried about the beer because everyone knew Goins didn’t drink beer. He wanted to know more about Elena Sanchez Vargas Menendez.

  “Oh. One other little detail you would tend to miss. Don’t eat or drink anything in this apartment. Valdez and Guila did that. I wonder mightily where the Littletons got the stuff. The Cuna sure as all hell didn’t give any of it to a gringo for any price!”

  “Cuna? What...?”

  “The poison used to knock off Valdez and Zacharia was made by the Cuna. They don’t let it get out of their hands. It was supposed to look like the Ngobe did it, but even they can’t get the poison and wouldn’t use it if ... I’ll be damned! The witch!”

  “Witch? What’s going on! What witch?”

  “This is getting weirder and weirder. I think there’s someone else involved, but don’t have a clue as to how.”

  “Clint, what do I do? What would you do in my position?”

  “Your position at the moment is bent over with your bare ass sticking up to get a stiff one. I’d get the hell out of Panama, personally.”

  “I can go to Medellin ... or Managua!”

  “Why bother? That’s the same as here.”