Clint Faraday Mysteries Collection 5 books: Murderous Intent Collector's Edition

by Moulton, CD

  “Helene had a lesbian affair for a couple of months when she was eighteen. She decided that wasn’t for her and hadn’t done anything like it since, but her father would go ballistic if he knew it. They all had some experience with that in the surfer group and said it was something they knew about each other, but they didn’t much care one way or another. Annette stole some jewelry from a guy who played her for awhile, then dumped her. She didn’t need or want any money, she was just getting even. It was family heirlooms. He never caught on. He thought it was some whore he had there for two nights – which was when she learned he was just playing her. When she left she told him he’d made the choice of what he wanted and he could live with it. Get used to his type of girl being his type because no decent girl would have anything to do with him the minute she learned what kind of asshole bastard son-of-a-bitch he was.

  “Suzanne didn’t admit to anything. Chastity told me later that she wasn’t the type for girl talk. She always sat back like she was doing there and seemed embarrassed that they talked to each other like that. It was girl talk. We tell each other things we’d die of mortification if guys or family knew about. Everyone tells something about herself that’s just for gossip and to trade little exciting stories. I told about slipping out for a few nights back in Taiwan and going to parties. They said that was nothing, but I told them they weren’t Oriental and didn’t have an Oriental father. We all giggled about that.”

  “Did you?”

  “What? Slip out? Of course! What girl didn’t at some time or other?”

  “They say anything about the guys?”

  “Only that Lars is such a big lovable teddy bear and the main one they could always count on in any bad situation. Erik is quiet, but has a temper. He beat the hell out of two men who were bigger than him in Hamburg when they put their hands on a girl he knew. She had been trying to avoid them, but they wouldn’t leave her alone. He would have gone to jail with them if his parents hadn’t brought a little pressure on the police to make them see it was only him defending a woman against two low-life brutes.

  “Gus and Paul are good friends to have. They stick together with the girls when you really wouldn’t expect them to and when there wasn’t any reason for it. They had both had opportunities with women they met that they turned down because the girls didn’t have anyone to hang with in some place if they left. They couldn’t make them see the last thing they would ask or expect is for that kind of loyalty. They were thoroughly capable of finding entertainment on their own if they wanted. Robert isn’t as popular, though they all like him. He seems reserved and isn’t as gregarious. He’s a rock to cling to when things are really bad, though. He’s a lot deeper than anyone knows. Paul is a lot like him.

  “Liam is ‘way too Fau-French. The same as Suzanne. It seems a lot of the French are stand-offish with anyone not French. They’re both embarrassed by Jac. Suzanne says he shows up where they are a lot too often and she’s sick to death of him. She can’t understand why Liam doesn’t make him leave them alone, even though they’re lifetime friends. She thinks Liam doesn’t really like him. He’s just so loyal to people he doesn’t know how to be honest enough to tell them they’re a royal pain in the ass. She knows he resents the creep cadging money from the group.

  “She feels sorry for him. She guesses she’s as bad. She could tell him to piss off, but doesn’t.

  “It was girl talk and I shouldn’t tell you, but I know you need some kinds of stuff they talk about and won’t ever let them know I spilled my guts to you.”

  “It helps a lot more than you can know. There isn’t any reason for them to ever know. It’s for my own information.”

  They chatted a bit more, then Clint decided to go into town to check out a thing or two. His mental scenario had changed a little. Judi had come across again in ways she couldn’t guess.

  Less of a Problem

  Robertson was sitting at a table in the Toro Loco, so Clint went in and asked if he wanted company.

  “No, but that won’t stop you. Have a seat.”

  “Not much of a vacation, huh?”

  “Actually, it’ll resolve some things. It’s a nightmare now, but it’ll work out, I hope.”

  “With Jac?”

  “Jac-off isn’t a problem like he used to be. He’s never been the actual one behind ... him. We didn’t know that until a few days ago.”

  “So. Swenson was the one behind it?”

  Robertson studied him a minute, shook his head and said, “So. You figured it out?”

  “The blackmail bit? Yes. I was leaning toward thinking he was behind it, somehow. I just don’t get why you chose that way to get rid of him.”

  “We didn’t choose anything. He chose it.”

  “Now you lost me.”

  “So you haven’t figured it as to who, you just ... but then you don’t know why, either. I thought you had it figured all the way when you made a remark about him being the wrong one.”

  “I think, just maybe, I have it figured now.”

  “Oh?”

  “You found out it was him behind the extortion and were about to expose that to the rest of the group, meaning you were the one who was supposed to have the accident.”

  “Something like that. It was self-defense if I’d have done it. Pushed him over.”

  “He tried to dump you and you turned it on him.”

  “He came up behind me when we heard the call and were going to the edge. He sort of lurched at me, I guess so he could say he slipped and ran into me if anyone saw. I managed to step to the side at the critical tenth of a second, he grabbed at me and went over. His alibi was going to be the loose gravel. That’s what actually happened.”

  “Can you imagine the look on Jac’s face when he came rolling down over that cascada?”

  “I like to.”

  “Why didn’t you just tell the police that he slipped on ... that’s what you told them. That part was true, it’s just what happened after he dropped onto the roadside that made you clam.”

  “I didn’t know if any of the things he had on me would come out if I fingered Jac. I think a couple others figured that. We’ve been waiting for him to really come down hard. He didn’t. I don’t know why.”

  “Because Swenson had a deal with someone else. I’d say probably Liam Fontaine. Jac was just used because he’s a sneaky little snake who can be manipulated by almost anyone. The cold one is ... I can’t picture him being it.”

  “I can picture Suzanne being it. I can’t be sure. If I could I think maybe there would be a murder then.”

  “Don’t. You’re in Panamá. Maybe we can find out who’s doing what and neutralize her ... or him. I’m still not sure. Can you tell me about it? I don’t jabber and I’ll probably not give a happy shit. Maybe I can work back to the one it has to be.”

  “Nothing to lose. If anyone knows I don’t much care. It’s a matter of whether they have any proof.

  “Back in August oh four I had a bit if a drug problem. Coke, mostly. Crack. I’ve gone off it and get pretty hard against it now. I know what it can do to you. You or I or anyone else aren’t immune or strong enough to be sure it won’t get us. I had a good stash in a backpack. The dogs would always find it so I took a little powder and rubbed it into the outside fabric just outside where the stuff was. They grabbed me three times because of the sniffer dogs, found the stuff on the outside, questioned me about it – I said I didn’t have a clue. All our bags were in a pile in the trunk of the taxi or on the bus or whatever. There was always a little on a couple other bags, always on the outside. They let us go without opening the deodorant stick it was inside of.

  “That would cause me a lot of problems if anyone knew how it was done. It wasn’t the kind of thing you could blackmail me over past a ten or twenty now and then. If you didn’t have proof of that it wouldn’t be good enough for a pound or dollar or whatever.

  “The last time I used the method, in France on my way to Belgium, they found the deodorant stick
. Fortunately there was only a trace left in it. I was on my way to get a new supply set up. They questioned me for more than an hour about it and I convinced them that it wasn’t even the brand I use. I didn’t have any idea of how it got in my luggage. The guard that let me go came into the hostel where I was staying that night and tried to put the screws to me. He’d checked and knew my family are all disgustingly rich and wanted ten thousand pounds or he’d arrest me and expose what I was doing. We were on the balcony on the third floor over a cobblestone street. I struck out before I thought and knocked him against the rail. He grabbed his pistol and was drawing it, still against the rail, I grabbed his foot and lifted . He fell over and landed head first on the cobbles.

  “I didn’t think anyone would know, but that was the moment I turned one eighty and have been against drugs from that moment.

  “Then a picture of me on that balcony with the guard showed up. It’s still out there.”

  “You’ve seen it? It’s real?”

  “I have a copy. If you don’t have a connection, it’s a picture of two people on a balcony.”

  “Can I see it?”

  “We can go get it. It’s in my backpack.”

  They went to the hotel. Robertson handed Clint a photo. It was fairly clear and Robertson was easy enough to identify from it. The guard was in uniform. Clint studied the photo a moment and grinned. “We can neutralize this. If some slimy cop was into blackmail and got dumped when he tried to put the screws to somebody, big fucking deal! It’s well-known by any cop anywhere that blackmailers are among the highest risk to end up dead by violent means.

  “This thing is worthless. I can show it’s a fake.”

  Robertson was staring in disbelief. “But...! HOW!”

  “Look at the shadows. Look at the focus. On you and the guard, it’s sharp and clear and the small bit of shadow on the wall behind is to the left.

  “Beyond the very close fringe the balcony is slightly out of focus and the shadows are nearly straight back. The picture of you and the guard was probably taken when you came in. The balcony picture was taken, then you and the cop were super-imposed over it. This is a digital printout photo. If you check the pixelation on two parts of the photo it will be different. That shows up easily with a magnifying lens.

  “I wonder! Are the things the others are paying for as obvious and phony?”

  “I always wondered why I had that sweater on on that balcony. I knew I wore it earlier, but could have sworn I didn’t have it on that ... both are in bright daylight, too! It was dusk when it ... I was half-stoned and thought it was just spotty memory. I didn’t connect the time of day of the photos! What an IDIOT! I’ve paid those ... I’ve dumped about thirty thousand pounds to them so far! What an IDIOT! I never thought to have authentication of the photo! I could have taken it to a shop in any town where I was and that kind of thing could be checked. I could have given a story that I wanted to know why my picture was taken at that spot where I’d never been or something on the order.”

  “You wouldn’t have to explain anything. Just say that you wanted the picture examined for authenticity. It’s none of their business why.”

  “I could have seen it myself as easy as you did and I do now – except I almost panic when I look at it. What an IDIOT!”

  “So. We have to know if Swenson knew it was phony. If so I’ll have Sergio close the case as ‘Natural Causes’ and you can forget it except for helping me find who’s really behind it. I want Jac tagged and I want whoever he’s been working with tagged.”

  “Natural causes?”

  “Murder is a natural cause when the victim’s a blackmailer. We look at things a bit different here in Panamá.”

  “I think I’m beginning to like the holy living hell out of Panamá!”

  “It’s a unique sort of place. Shall we see if we can find who’s behind it? We have a couple of very solid and telling points to investigate.”

  “We do?”

  “We do.”

  “I’m afraid I don’t know much about detective work except the bullshit on TV.”

  “What’s one thing we can be damned sure of because of this phony photo?”

  Clint received a questioning look and Robertson shrugged.

  “Who was there to take the shots?”

  “I’ll be damned. Obvious.”

  “Most things are.”

  Explanation

  Clint explained that he wanted everyone in that group’s movements in August 2004 between the 6th and 7th known to the time they stepped in dogshit on the sidewalk in Podunkville, Alaska. Sergio shook his head and went to the computer.

  “You have that here or do you have to look it up somewhere else?” Robertson asked.

  “We have your passports, every page. If they’re from before then it’s there that we can trace further,” Sergio replied.

  “Oh!” Clint said. “You can mark Swenson’s case as natural causes.”

  “I probably can, but why would I?”

  “Because he was blackmailing several of us, not to mentiond it really was an accident that happened when he tried to push ... someone else off that ledge,” Robertson said. “The someone saw him coming and stepped aside. He really did slip on the loose gravel because the person wasn’t there to stop him.”

  “Why didn’t you say so? I mean you ... oh. Blackmail. It will come out. That doesn’t explain where the body ended up.”

  “Jac Dumond pushed it on over. He was there to get something from the desired victim’s body. The wrong body suddenly dropped at his feet and he panicked and pushed it on over.”

  “Ah! His boss fell out of the sky, not the, as you called him, desired victim.”

  “Something like that,” Clint agreed.

  “Hmm. Swenson was in France. Both Sontag and Marks and Wolsz were in Hamburg. Johnsen, Larson, Borsten were in Sweden while Robertson was in France the sixth and Belgium the seventh. Fontaine, Lizette and Norstedt were in France.

  “So. You were the one being blackmailed and the one who stepped aside at the critical second. If Clint says he believes you I will believe you. It will be marked as closed.”

  “Wait just a little before closing it. I may need a bit of leverage and, very easily, I can make it look like we think the one who’s really behind it ... who Fontaine knows! Let me try something! He’s a whiny little wimp who can be scared into giving us what we need!”

  “Ah-ha! You have said he was waiting for the body on the camino. Someone will come forward who saw him there at the wrong time! He can be placed there with no explanation to offer!”

  “And even took a picture or three!” Robertson said. “I have fifty pictures with him in them. We can do to him what he did to me!”

  “Shall we get some of those pictures and make a quick trip to the scene for some background?” Clint suggested.

  They got his boat and went to close to the area to take a few shots with Clint’s camera at the spot just below the cascada. There had been rain in the mountains earlier and water was coming over the ledge so Clint took the photos from the side enough that the water didn’t show. Then they took Robertson’s memory stick with hundreds of photos on it to Clint’s computer. They did an overlay that looked more real than the one with Robertson and the guard.

  “I’ll be thoroughly damned! Jac was waiting to get this flash stick! I always have it with me! There has to be something on it that Swenson was afraid of!”

  “We’ll find it. Later.”

  It took more than three hours to get exactly the effect they wanted. When it looked just right on the screen Clint had the printer make four copies of each of three shots. Jac was shown just to the side of the little cascada fall, then near the guard rail where Swenson’s body was pushed over, then in two close spots just past the cascada.

  Clint looked at the shots and the angles and rejected two of them.

  “Why? They’re perfect!” Robertson objected.

  “The story that goes with them. Those two could have
been snapped as a car passed. The one across the road and the one twenty feet back won’t do.”

  “I see.”

  They worked half an hour more to put one shot of Fontaine in a particular spot in the background. Robertson asked why. The other two that they’d chosen were damned good.

  “Because he had on this watch. The other shot showed him with a different one.”

  “You’d have to blow them up fifty times to see it!”

  “I’m a detective. I saw it on these shots.”

  Robertson gave him a thumbs up.

  “Oh, shit!” Clint exclaimed suddenly.

  “What?”

  “How do we show when these were taken? It’s not on the photos anywhere.”

  “That’s easy! Any camera will put a date on your pictures if you program it in. Look at those shots I took in Austria. I had the date on them.”

  Clint brought up the shots. There was a date in small block type on the bottom right in each photo.

  “I think maybe ... did you date things very often?”

  “No. A few times. I don’t ... yes I do! That photo of me and the guard wasn’t dated so even that could have been explained as being another time!”

  “But you have a dated picture of Swenson or someone that can crucify them. They definitely wouldn’t be trying to knock you over if you had anything that could be explained away as being taken at a different time. It will make it a lot easier to find the one we want on that stick.”

  Clint brought his photos onscreen in the photo shop and used the text insert feature to place the block letter with the date in the lower right corner of the photos. He printed those out, studied the results carefully and smirked. “Got the whiny bastard by the balls! Let’s get this boat in the water!”

  He checked again to be certain he had exactly what he wanted, then called Judi over. They got their story straight the way they wanted it and she went with Clint into town. Robertson couldn’t be there for this. It would look too much like a set-up if he was there. They found Jac, Liam and Suzanne in the Starship Surf Shop. Clint called Jac to the side and he came over with Liam and Suzanne tagging along. “What eez eet you WAHNT? I’m biz-EEE!” He demanded.