Clint Faraday Collection C: Murder in Motion Collector's Edition (2 page)

“
They
were that bad?”

“
Yeah.
Ask Judi (Clint’s neighbor, an attractive oriental woman who helped
Clint with his cases). I was ready to shoot the bunch of them
myself. They thought they could come into the station and order my
men to go to Rambala and arrest a bunch of Indios they couldn’t
identify for stealing their supplies they wouldn’t
list.”

“
Not
Rambala. The comarca – and it was Orlando and Ernest along with
yours truly who confiscated a pile of illegal weapons when they
threatened people on the comarca with them.”

“
Figures.”

“
I think
I’ll go home and take a long shower, then lay around most of the
day. Anymore trouble with that bunch and I’ll surprise them greatly
when I walk in and you tell them I’m with the police all over
Panamá as well as a Ngobe Indio. You can ask exactly what kind of
stuff was kept by the Indios. That should make them
happy!”

Sergio laughed. “You’re the palest Indio I’ve
ever seen. They fell for that?”

“
Orlando
said he had declared that I’m Indio, he’s the chief, Basilio agreed
with him; ergo, I’m an Indio by law.”

“
Orlando
said that? Then you are an Indio and Panamanian. Period. Caso
cerrado! That’s the law. They even have to give you a Panamanian
passport.”

“
I
thought that was good only on the comarcas.”

“
If
you’re a Ngobe Indio you are an indigenous Panamanian. The council
declares it to be fact and there are no other questions asked. I
had a case while on duty in San Andreas. The jefe had declared a
German who was living on the comarca giving them free medical was a
Cuna. He’s a doctor. It went to Panamá City. The government didn’t
like it, but they had the constitution that says the indigenous
populations are forever Panamanians. The Cuna are of the indigenous
population. Dr. Schweiger is a Cuna. Dr. Schweiger is a
Panamanian.”

Clint grinned, waved and headed for his
house.

Murder in Bocas
Town

Judi Lum, Clint’s neighbor, saw him from her
deck over the bay, waved and called a “Welcome home!” across the
water to him on his deck. He waved back and said he’d come over. He
had some questions about the dead redneck. She waved an
invitation.

“
This
Danny Whatever – Watts – who got his throat sliced – what do you
know about it?” Clint asked.

Judi made a sour face. “I didn’t do it, but I
sort of wish I had. There are four of them who are the most
obnoxious redneck assholes I ever saw, including when I was living
in the states for umpteen years. They never went anywhere without a
can of beer in their hands. Serg had to come when the of guys
patrolling told them to go inside or he’d dump them right there.
They gave him a hard time, somebody called Serg, he came out and
said to give him the beers. That Freddie bastard said he would give
him the beer when he was big enough to take it.

“
Serg put
his pistol to the asses’ head and said for all of them to give the
officer their beers. The cop dumped them in the gutter. Serg said
if they were seen with beer or anything else in the streets again
his officers had orders to arrest them on the spot by whatever
means necessary, including shooting them in the crotch.

“
They
went to the Toro Loco and were fairly quiet for a little while.
They started getting boisterous and loud so Natalie said they could
go on their own or they could get tossed into the streets. Every
man in the place stood up and came toward them. There were twelve
or so so they let discretion become the better part of valor for
the first time in their lives.

“
They
went to The Reef and caused some trouble. They went to the VIP and
met their equals in the big bad-ass category. They came back into
town and saw Ben and Earl Somebody, his boyfriend for the last few
nights, and started some kind of loud argument about queers in the
streets.

“
I don’t
know what happened. I think Ben kicked one of their asses. That’s
what I know.”

“
Danny,
the dead one, shoved at Ben. Ben decked him. You know
Ben.”

“
Ben ...
wouldn’t kill anybody while they were asleep. It wasn’t him. He
would beat them to death, maybe, but wouldn’t use anything but his
hands. He’s big enough and good enough to do it.”

“
I guess
one of his buddies did it. That ... wouldn’t make sense. They’re
probably meek as rabbits unless the four are together. They spend
their time trying to impress each other. Nobody else will put up
with their crap. We get a few of the type now and then.”

Judi nodded. “You want me to see if anybody
around here knows them?”

“
I’d
appreciate it. I don’t know why they’re here at all, much less why
they’re so intent in getting attention. It reminds me of another
couple of assholes who were simply being a diversion.”

“
Puerto
Armuelles. I remember that.”

They chatted awhile, then Clint went home to
clean up his e-mail and such, then to lay around for the rest of
the day.

“
Yo,
Clint!” Ben greeted. “Que paso?”

Ben Longstreet was a gay man who lived not
far from Clint. They had become friends from the first.

“
Not
much. You cork that Danny character’s bottle for him?”

“
Not like
that! I would sort of like to gut punch him to death, but he and
his friends are such pathetic types.”

“
Yeah. I
met them in the comarca.”

“
They
were talking about some crazy gringo who stole their equipment in
Rambala. They didn’t know his name. He sounded like
you.”

“
Guilty
as charged! It was a lot of illegal guns and such they took onto
the comarca to threaten the Indios. They learned a little about the
difference in Panamanian law and comarca law.”

“
Serg
told me you’re a Ngobe. Orlando, the chief, declared it, so it’s
set in titanium steel.”

“
Orlando
and Basilio! You don’t know how proud I am that they accept me that
much!”

They chatted. Ben told Clint about the little
confrontation. Clint agreed that they were the type who would be
meek as rabbits if they weren’t all there, so it wasn’t too likely
one of them killed Danny. Clint said there was something a little
off about them. They seemed almost to be acting.

He then laid around his place, fixed a few
little things such as a lock that was sticking because of the salt.
He later cleaned up and went into town to talk to people. Judi
called to say she and Ben were going to Refugio’s. Dave was playing
there with Curtis – if he showed up. Clint said he might drop in
there later.

He went to the Nine Degrees for a very good
meal, if a bit pricey. Just before he left Sam, Freddie and Larry
came in. They glared at him a bit, but didn’t say anything to
him.

He went to Refugio’s and talked awhile with
Judi, Ben and some overly-handsome bodybuilder type named Earl who
was with Ben. If it was anyone besides Ben, Clint would have
avoided the type. This one seemed to be more a regular person
without a bloated opinion of himself.

Manny Mathews, a retired mafia don from the
states, came in with his wife to chat a bit. Clint met a girl from
Denmark who was vacationing in Bocas for three days. They got along
well. She stayed with him for the night – a very pleasant
night.

Clint was laying in his hammock on his deck
at five thirty with his second cup of coffee waiting for the
sunrise. Most of them were beautiful here. At about a quarter to
six the light began to increase and the sky was dotted with
rose-pink clouds that slowly turned to salmon, then to slightly
reddish, but never turned into real red. It would be a nice
morning.

Judi came onto her deck to water the orchids
and waved and wagged a finger at him. He didn’t bother to dress
until he decided what he was going to do. He had on a jock strap
this morning. Usually nothing.

Inga came sleepily onto the deck and waved to
Judi. She asked Clint if he always came out there dressed like that
in the morning.

“
Not
usually. I usually don’t wear the jock strap. Only when I have
company.”

They chatted for a few minutes. Inga was
going to Bocas del Drago for the surf. Did he want to come
along?

He said he had a few errands and a project or
two. She said she was leaving Bocas on the five o’clock water taxi
so probably wouldn’t see him before she left. She had a wonderful
night.

Clint spent awhile, until after seven when
some stores opened in town, sending e-mails to friends in Florida,
California, and Panamá. He went into town, got groceries and
supplies for a week or so, then headed back home. Sam, Freddie and
Larry were standing on the sidewalk by his gate. Clint sighed
heavily and asked the cabbie to wait while he kicked a few asses.
He got out.

“
Faraday?
We have to talk. No more shit,” Sam said.

That surprised him. He nodded, paid the taxi
and grabbed the groceries. He led the trio inside. They didn’t say
much while he put the groceries away, then offered them coffee.
Larry had a cup, the other two said they were nervous enough
without caffeine.

“
What’s
it about? The act on the comarca?” Clint asked.

“
You knew
that it was a act?” Sam asked. He seemed to be the spokesman for
the trio. “I sort of wondered if you’d tumbled. We overdid
it.

“
I mean,
we
are
what you call rednecks. We
don’t understand the kind of shit ... well, the shit people put up
with. I guess we’re big-time bigots. We like our beer and our
trucks and our guns and all that.

“
This is
how it came about. It was when we came into that place on the
border – Frontera. We stayed for that night in some hotel.
Everybody said it was a dump, but it seemed Okay to us. It was a
lot better than some places, like in Nicaragua and Costa Rica. They
ain’t got much.

“
We got a
lot of money from ... a land deal in Georgia and decided to see the
world. At least some of it. Where we could go in our
truck.

“
The
truck was part of our pay. It’s great, but drinks gas like a
elephant. It was costing us a lot more than we thought at first. I
was sort of hoping the gooks would take the damned thing when we ..
on that reservation. It would probably save us a fucking
fortune.

“
That’s
just talking. You don’t give a fucking shit. I don’t know how to
talk to you.

“
Alright.
Straight out, like.

“
We were
at a place in Frontera, a little restaurant. We were trying to sell
the fucking Hummer to get enough money to stay a couple days, then
go home. Only the taxes if anyone bought it would take everything
because ... you don’t give a fuck. You know how that shit
goes.

“
We said
we wanted to go to Bocas because some friends went there when they
played some music – they have a band that’s going places in
Nashville. Local boys who made it, you know.

“
Anyhow,
this guy says he knows someone who would maybe give us a stake
where we wouldn’t need to sell the fucking thing. We could get it
back to Georgia and sell it there if anybody was as stupid as we
were and would even look at it.

“
We knew
he was right about that! We didn’t get our shorts in a knot because
he said we were stupid to buy the fucking thing in the first place.
We
were
!

“
Anyhow,
he talked to this bird on his pocket phone and said it would be a
day or two. All we had to do was go somewhere that was on the way
to fucking Bocas, anyhow. We would make who turned out to be you go
away for a afternoon and night. He would pay us ten fucking
grand.

“
We said
that was about as good as it gets! Who did we have to kill? He said
that was the good part. We didn’t have to kill anybody. Maybe kick
your ass if that was the only fucking way to keep you
there.

“
We had
to make it look like natural. You wasn’t to ever know that’s what
we were doing.

“
He said
you really liked the gooks – sorry, Indios – and that you would be
out there in a heartbeat if anybody tried to cause them trouble. He
didn’t tell us the part about the goo ... Indios having their own
law and that the damn government fuckheads wouldn’t be able to take
a hundred or so and forget it. We made him pay us for the guns and
stuff when we got here.

“
See, he
paid five grand up front and five when we were done. He paid like
he said, but those guns cost us more than three grand back in
Louisiana. The guy who saw us in Frontera came to Bocas to pay. He
said that was fair because he didn’t tell us not to take any guns
on the comaria ... whatever they call it.

“
We
thought everything was cool. We were going to stay here a week,
then go to Colombia – only we couldn’t take the fucking Hummer to
Colombia – for a week, then to Brazil for a week, then home. He
told us not to spend too much money here so we wouldn’t be noticed,
but we sort of got drunk and got in some shit with the cops. Lucky
that captain or what-the-fuck-ever just dumped our beer and told us
to stop the shit or get the fuck out.

“
Then
Danny started the shit about some queer and got knocked on his ass.
Some queer kicked his ass and he didn’t even get a lick in. That’s
hard to live down! He started running his mouth and some bigshit
here heard it and said to be careful because this person we were
working for is bad news if anybody causes his name to ever come
out. Danny said we didn’t fucking know the shithead’s name yet, but
we would.