by Moulton, CD
All are popular to one degree or another. All follow the surfer crowd and backpacker crowd. All are athletic and adventurous.
Clint read it over. Not a whole lot.
“See anything?” Sergio asked.
“One small possibility. Not much, to overstate the case.”
“I’ll have to wait for the autopsy data to finish building a theory,” he complained. “I wonder how differently the two of us will see this. What do you think it’s about? Any ideas?”
Clint thought seriously a moment. This was a very unlikely victim. Of all in that crowd, he would seem to be among the three who wouldn’t end up murdered in any likelihood he could imagine – overlooking the fact that was a purely statistical theory.
“I think I just got one,” Clint replied slowly. “It’s a cloud seen through a fog. Speculation one hundred fifty percent.”
“Please, Clint! You are my dearest friend! Don’t do that! You are not poetic!”
Clint gave him the bird.
Doesn’t Male Sense
Clint decided, seeing this didn’t make sense the way it was reported that it happened, it didn’t make sense. Something was drastically out of kilter here. He had to talk with all of these people individually to even come up with a theory. Suzanne Lizette sounded almost rehearsed in the Iris. She was nervous in a way that didn’t quite fit with what she was saying. She had claimed she was from Sweden, though she was from France. Liam Fontaine was from France, but they seemed to be together. That Jac Dumond character was from France and they – at least Fontaine – knew him.
Well, the group traveled together since Sweden so she could very well have simply meant that. All of them had seemed nervous in the Barco Hundido, but that could have been because of a bad experience. Backpackers wouldn’t have a place they could stay until the shock wore off. They were the pack mentality and would stay together for comfort.
Judi came to the door and said she had talked with a few people, but didn’t learn much. It was mostly the backpacker chatter. There was a bit of a dispute at the Mondo Taitu, a popular surfer bar. “That French guy couldn’t pay his tab after buying a round for the bar. He claimed his pocket had been picked. He could get the money in the morning at the bank. Some friends said he was good for it so they paid and he’ll pay them back today.”
“Liam Fontaine?”
“No. The greasy one. Jock or whatever. He woo-DAUNT try to run out on a tab! Not some little fifty dollar no-THING! He ran tabs in PairEEE for hundreds of Eur-OHs and there was nev-AIR a probLEM, c’est certainMOHnt, non?”
“Yeah. I talked with him at the Barco Hundido. Whoopee-shit! I got the impression he was a lot of talk and not much action..”
“Ronaldo, your Indio friend bartender, said talk walks. Pay stays. He could find another place to hang out.
“Those girls are scared half to death of something. They stay close and are jumpy. I think they know one of them pushed that guy off the cliff and they’re afraid they might be next. I don’t think they have the least idea of who it could be. Suzanne was telling them the police said it wasn’t possible for it to have happened the way they were told and the way they reported it. They think all but one of them are telling the exact truth as they know it.”
Clint nodded. It could very well be that only one of them had doubts at the first that it was an accident. One of them knew better. That was certain!
Clint decided he was going to Boca del Drago on the early bus. He was sitting at the Golden Grill and the girls in the group were waiting with their surfboards for it to come. He had about twenty minutes so listened to the gossip from the group there. The talk was about the murder. Tom (who Clint simply couldn’t bring himself to not dislike. He could usually be neutral about people, but not him) was expounding on a theory that they had been smuggling drugs around the world and it caught up with them. They probably crossed the wrong supplier and this probably wouldn’t be the last accident one of them had. He had it on good authority that they were under investigation. His good friend in the state department said they were watched every inch when they were in town.
“What state department would that be?” Clint asked innocently.
“Why, the only one I would be likely to know about. The US,” he answered condescendingly.
“You’re full of shit! None of them have ever been in the states,” Clint replied sharply. “You’d better read up on the slander laws here. You can end up in the pen for three years for spreading that kind of crap about people! Maybe you’d better learn to put your mind, assuming you have one, in gear before putting your alligator mouth in motion!”
This was the first time Clint had let the ass get to him to that extent. Everyone was staring at him in stark disbelief and amusement. Tom was hard to take. They were used to him and tolerated him. Clint had enough of his attitude and “Better than thou” way of talking.
Tom fidgeted. He didn’t know how to react to this turn of events. “I was just repeating what I was told,” he whined. It was almost comical. He usually lectured with authority, now he was whining.
“Oh, so you can produce them if you’re ever taken to court and they’ll admit it. That’ll take the heat off you and put it where it belongs – on the ones who started the shit! I’ve talked with those kids and they’re mostly good people. They may smoke a joint – so do I – but they aren’t into any kind of drug running or selling or anything else.
“There’s my bus. Have a good day.”
He nodded at the others and dropped a dollar for his coffee on the table as he went out to help the top boy load the surfboards. There was an embarrassed silence from the table. He could imagine the whiny backtracking from Tom as soon as he was gone. One at that table would wait anxiously for Clint to return to tell him what Tom said about him – which wasn’t going to be complimentary.
The ride to Drago was pleasant. He talked with Helene and Chastity in the seat across the aisle. they were dressed in the regular Spandex suits for surfing. Clint said he thought he saw them with exactly the opposite suits on before.
“We exchange them. They’re sort of property of the group,” Chastity said. “I don’t even think of it. When we’re going somewhere for sport I just grab the one on top of the laundered pile. We’re not the type for matching accessories to the dress, if you know what I mean. We’re not clothes horses. The nice thing about it is that one size fits all of us girls and just two sizes for the guys.”
Clint said he had been to the place where their friend had fallen. It was a treacherous spot. The footing was very unstable there when it was dry and the tosca kept dropping pebbles on the path. It must have been a pretty horrible experience.
“The police say it wasn’t an accident, but we were there!” Chastity cried. “I mean, we weren’t looking at him, but he wasn’t ten feet from any of us. See, we heard what sounded like one of those toucans or something and went to the edge to see if we could get a picture. I think he just got too close to the edge and the gravel gave way and he fell.”
“He didn’t cry out?”
“Yes. He yelled, ‘NO!’ as he went over,” Helene answered. “Like, he started sliding and knew he was too close and yelled. I turned and he was already falling. It was horrible!
“Look, I know everyone’s curious, but can we talk about something else?”
“Oh! Sorry. Just, as you say, curious. I hear the waves are pretty good out from the pass. Should be a good day.”
They talked about surfing in different places the rest of the way. Clint learned a little about their individual personalities. He had been right in that they seemed normal people and not bad in any way. They were torn about the death and were scared because the police said it was murder. They couldn’t bring themselves to accept it, but it wasn’t something that could be denied. All they could do was to carry on as always.
On the way back to Bocas Town he asked what Lawrence had been like. He apologized and said he was an investigator in Florida and couldn’t stop acting l
ike one for very long.
“He was very nice. He was from a good family. We traveled for a couple of months together and we all liked him. He was a very quiet type and wasn’t the easiest person to get to know, but he wasn’t too very difficult, either,” Annette replied. “He had some trouble a couple of times when his ATM card got damaged and he had to go to the bank for money, which meant waiting three days for the transfer from his folks. He was terribly embarrassed by it. He’d never had any trouble with money before anywhere in the world. His family is in a very high income level. I think they will be terribly hurt by this.”
“Yes,” Suzanne said. “All our families have had some losses with the markets being so unstable the past several years, but we were never hurting for anything. We all have reserves.”
“I heard Liam’s family was very hard-pressed,” Helene said. “Of course, that might not mean the same thing to us as it would to other people who aren’t so fortunate. When I’m hard-pressed it only means I have to eat in four star restaurants instead of five.
“I sound terrible! I’m not really like that! I’m not a snob! I’m just so confused by this thing!”
“We’re all still in shock,” Chastity agreed. “I suppose I sound like some kind of freak. I’m just reacting and, I’ll admit it! I’m scared! What if one of our group really did kill somebody? What if we figure out who? Would that mean we have an accident, too?
“I try not to think about it. I don’t want to figure it out. I just want to go home as soon as I can arrange it.”
“You can’t go?” Clint asked. “I think that’s what I’d do.”
“We have to stay until the police finish what that police captain said is the preliminary report,” Suzanne replied. “He says we are all suspects or material witnesses. He’s really nice and says he won’t hold us in cells. We had to promise to let him know beforehand if we went anywhere. We told him we were going to the surfing beach. He said we could go anywhere on the island or Bastimentos or Solarte or Carenero. He meant if we went to the mainland or David or Panamá City or somewhere like that. He’s a lot easier on us than on the guys, but that’s because he would know that it would be one of them who...” She shuddered.
“Sergio? Yes. He tries to make things easier on everyone, but he’s also a stickler about the job. You do not want to get on his bad side!”
“Liam’s friend, Jac, already got on his bad side, I think,” Chastity said. “He was really giving him a hard time about something. Jaq, sorry Suz, can be a real ass.”
“Don’t be sorry! I say the same thing, but Liam grew up in the same places and they’ve been friends for years,” Suzanne said sourly. “He’s a creep! He simply doesn’t fit with us! I don’t see how Liam can’t see through that phony! I don’t see why Robert paid that bar tab last night. I’d have let him stew. He’s always broke and always has an excuse. Larry would sometimes bail him out, according to Liam. Larry didn’t like him at all. I’ve heard him say Jac is the type who leaves a trail of grief anywhere he goes. He’s good for a debt, but you’d think he’d budget things a little better. All of us have reserves, but we all also watch our money carefully. If things get worse we don’t want to have to go to work or anything. We are spoiled rotten, but we also try to be human. We’re raised to respect certain things.”
“I think Jac knows something about Liam. Maybe he knows something about Larry, too,” Chastity suggested. “I think they bail him out because he knows things. He’s around too much and is a phony. I just feel it!”
They agreed. They didn’t try to put on a front as being anything more than they were. Jac had one front or another anywhere he went. Clint was getting a bit of an idea from listening to them. They chatted about different things then. Clint was mostly left out of it the rest of the way home. It seemed very telling that these people, only one of whom liked Jac, would bail him out. It also seemed he was around a lot more than the report from Sergio hinted. Clint wondered.... Did the wrong one get pushed over that cliff? How could that have happened? Was it Jac on the road? Did the wrong body come tumbling down that ditch, he panicked, shoved it on over and ran?
This one just wouldn’t come together. There was something behind it that never came out.
Clint was going to have to dig hard and deep.
Things Learned
“I learned that Frenchy didn’t go near the bank today, but that no one seemed to notice or care,” Judi reported. “I suppose that group doesn’t think fifty four dollars is worth worrying about. I think that one’s just following the group around for a free ride. I asked at the Barco and Wanda said he left his wallet at the hotel and the one they called Larry, the dead one, paid it and said to forget it. He pulls a ‘damaged ATM card’ routine at the Mondo two nights later? Uh-huh! A leech.”
“I’m getting the same idea, but there seems to be more to it than that.”
“Blackmail? I kind of got that idea from eavesdropping on three of those guys at the Muralla at lunch. He came in and asked Robert for fifty dollars until he could get to the bank. He hadn’t bothered yet? Last night he promised first thing, then he doesn’t do it and even gets fifty more?
“Robert looked mad as hell, but didn’t say anything. He gave him the fifty. Liam and Gustav were there and didn’t even say hello to him. Liam’s supposed to be the link because he knew him in France, but doesn’t even say ‘hello’ when he comes in to hit Robert up?
“Clint, I think that one needs a lot of attention. He just plain doesn’t fit and never could. Not with that group.””
Clint nodded. It was falling into place a little better – but why was Lawrence dead, then? It should be Jac! Could he have something strong enough that he could force someone else to kill a friend?
Clint was going to look up Dear Jac. Maybe accidentally happen to run into him somewhere and remember seeing him at the Barco.
That happened sooner than he’d hoped. He was on his way to the police station to ask Sergio to make a more intense search of Dumond’s past when he saw him go into the internet café across the street. He smirked and went in to find all the machines were occupied, Jac was sitting, but there were two ahead of him.
“Oh! You’re that Jack. From the Barco the other night. I’m Clint. We spoke.”
“Ah! Oui! I rememBAIR well!” Clint almost flinched at the overdone accent.
“Crap! It looks like about twenty or thirty minutes, minimum. Want a coffee? My treat!”
“Certainmont! Merci!” They went out and to the restaurant at the Bocas del Toro Hotel. Clint said he forgot to bring his laptop today. They could use the free wireless in the restaurant.
“You were with those attractive European girls, I remember,” Clint said. “That whole group seem nice enough people. It’s too bad their friend ... well. That can ruin any vacation suddenly and definitely. I was talking with the one, Chastity, I think, on the bus to Drago. She said it was a horrible experience, but her friend would want them to carry on. They didn’t have anything else to do, really, so they would stay until they could go back home. The police won’t allow them to leave the country until there’s a determination or something. Very practical people. Swiss, I think.”
“No. SveDEN. They are vair-EE nice people, I think. I know Liam, one of them. We were raised in the coun-TREE in Frahnce, you see. We are both of vair-EE good family.
“I fear that I am, how do you say? The black sheep of my family. I travel and have fun, they accumulate mon-EE.”
Clint noticed that the accent was an on-off kind of thing. He would be speaking in a rather normal slightly accented English, then suddenly the overdone part. His phoniness was the repulsive thing about him. He would probably be average to moderately likeable if he’d drop the facade.
“Yes. They seem upscale, but remain good people to be around. So many of the wealthy, particularly European and American, can’t talk about anything but money and the stock market and so forth until you want to puke. Life’s got to be about more than that.”
“It is true. It is the way they are raised. If you were among those kinds of people, people with vair-REE much mon-EE, you would probably do the same, yes?”
“Oh, no! I’m quite wealthy. I just don’t let it control my life. I use the money. I don’t allow it to use me,” Clint replied with a laugh. “Money’s not good for anything unless you use it for something good, I always say.
“You are a surfer?”
“But, non! I fear I have little ability at the sport. I like the people and they are my age with many interests the same.”
Judi came in and glanced at Clint, who excused himself and went to say hello and quickly tell her he wanted to impress that creep with his money, so play along with it. He led her to the table and introduced her. She smiled and put on her semi-airhead act. She seemed distracted and Clint asked what was the matter.
“Oh, it’s the clinic. The one we’re building on Cristobal. They have to make a big fill where a cave underneath fell in. The school on Popa and the clinic in Tierra Oscura. Problems all at once. (These were all projects Clint had instituted with funds from some of his cases. He seemed too often to end up with millions of dollars he didn’t want so built schools and clinics for his Indio friends.) It wouldn’t be so bad if they were spread out, but things just don’t go that way here in Panamá. Feast or famine.
“Clint, I know it’s asking a lot, but could you advance us three million? You already dedicated the money for this, but we need it now, not in four months. I’ve put in one million and Manny put in one, but it taps me out for the next month or so and I do want those projects finished so we can do the thing out in Cusapín.”
“Why the hell didn’t you ask me earlier? You know there’s no limit on those projects!
“Excuse me for doing business this way, Jack. I didn’t expect ... here. I’ll give you a note for Juan at BNP. He’ll give you the transfer and I’ll go in later and legalize it.
