Clint Faraday Mysteries collection A Muddled Murders Collector's Edition (25 page)

Judi saw him and waved, wagging a finger at
him. He didn’t bother to wear anything at home until he’d had his
breakfast or if he had company. She always did the
“naughty-naughty” wag at him. He grinned, waved back and went in to
see what e-mail had come during the night. Nothing, for a
change.

Dave, the local eccentric author/musician,
went to Judi’s deck in a cayuca (local Indio dugout boat) to hand
her several orchids and a bromeliad or two. He was doing a study of
them to be able to teach some students from the University of
Panamá classification. He saw Clint and waved, then held up an
anthurium with a big white and purple flower. He’d found one in the
mountains and had gone back to see if there were more. He never
took a plant unless it was in danger of dying, anyhow, or if there
were a lot of them.

Apparently, he found a lot of them if he
brought one back.

Oh, well!

Clint laid on the lounge chair and sipped
chicha until it was gone, then went in to fry the pancakes and
start on the coffee. The comp dinged and he leaned over to see
there was e-mail. He reached over and clicked on it.

Clint – it’s getting a bit hairy here. I
know it’s early and an imposition, but can you come to Puerto
Armuelles and help me sort this mess out?

I think I was threatened by a mafia hood
type. You’d call him the quintessential godfather. All hints with
hard looks while trying to sound like your doting uncle.

– Batty

Batty? Who the hell was ... oh. Don Bathner.
Another gringo who knows so much more than the locals about
everything that he’s going to make a few million in the next month
or so and go back to the states to enjoy it. He’d go back to the
states in a month or so, but not with any millions. Dead broke.
Clint had seen that too many times already. Start telling them how
they do it in the states and what the law is in the states and how
very efficient everything is in the states.

The economy in the states has collapsed,
idiot! How damned efficient is that? They do not do things here
like in the states. Until you learn that you’re going to always
have your tail caught in a wringer. If you treat people anywhere
the way you treat the natives here you have to expect them to
resent you, obstruct you and try to teach you a lesson about
assumptions.

Clint sent back that he could probably get to
Puerto Armuelles later, but he considered this to be a job. He
wasn’t in a position to run all over the country as favors to
people he didn’t know and wasn’t in business with. He sort of hoped
“Batty” would refuse and he would be able to wash his hands of
him.

The comp dinged and Batty sent that he would
give him a $1,000 retainer as soon as he got there.

Well, Puerto Armuelles is a beautiful spot on
the Pacific. There are some good people there. He sighed and got
dressed, went to the water taxi and headed for David. He would go
to Puerto Armuelles from David.

The rain was coming in a little faster than
usual today. The trip to Almirante on the water taxi was a bit
rough.

Puerto
Armuelles

The trip was Okay. Clint talked with several
people along the way, none of whom knew anyone in Puerto Armuelles
until he was on that bus from David. The one he knew on the bus was
a woman, Anita Sanchez, who ran a small restaurant on the outskirts
of town and taught science at the local colegio. She didn’t know
who Batty was talking about, but there were a lot of gringos and
hood types coming now that the refinery was going to be built
there. She’d met Batty one time and didn’t like him. He thought he
was better and smarter than anyone else.

Clint groaned and said all gringos had to
live with what one or two were like. She agreed that was the way of
the world. People were put into stereotypes.

That was pointed. Batty put all Panamanians
into the role of ignorant third-world savages who were lazy and
stupid. Clint agreed with her about the Batty type and said he was
trying to keep as many of the type out as he could, but Puerto
Armuelles was doomed if that refinery didn’t change a few of its
policies about how its employees treated the natives.

“
Es mismo
Colón en dós o tres anos mas,” she agreed, sadly.

Several
more people got on the bus at Frontera, including a couple of
gringos coming from Costa Rica to try to find a place to stay if
Gerald could find a good enough place that wasn’t just a bit
too
– picturesque, if you saw what
she meant.

“
Yeah,
you want to come from the states and get a five bedroom three bath
house overlooking the Pacific for fifty bucks a month with maid
service thrown in,” Clint said innocently. “There are a lot of
people coming looking for that kind of good deal. I guess that’s
just ‘progress’ in the modern world.”

“
Are
there still places like that available? I was told we could live
very reasonably here and that there were enough Americans to where
we wouldn’t be forced to hire an interpreter anytime we want
anything.

“
I’m
Sylvia Cartworthy and he’s my husband, Gerald. He’s from
Northampton, England.

“
I mean,
we
are
coming here to spend our
American dollars! You’d think they’d have sense enough to learn
English if they want us here!”

“
They
don’t want you here, they just can’t find a way to keep you out.
I’m Clint Faraday.

“
They are
Americans. Central Americans. This is their country and they speak
Spanish here. You’d think anyone coming here to try to exploit them
and their culture would have the sense to learn the language of
this country. After all, they almost always learn English if
they’re going to the US or Europe because people of distinction do
that.”

“
Hmpf! I
resent your attitude!” Gerald huffed. “We’re coming here to put
this backwater banana republic on the map! Need industry to
stimulate the economy and bring in progress.”

“
And I
resent you and your type, totally. The last thing Panamá needs is a
bunch of money-oriented assholes coming here to bring what they
call ‘progress’ to a place that’s doing very well without your
sordidity. You won’t be here very long. Maybe you could go to
Panamá City. There are enough of your type there.”

He turned his back on them. He had a small
camera he carried to take pictures of everyone he felt might be
involved in a case. These people seemed – odd. Sylvia was looking
shocked, Gerald was beet red and fuming and Anita winked and gave
him a big grin. She spoke with a strong accent (she actually spoke
more than passable English). “I have that second house just down
the coast I’d like to rent,” she said. “It’s small. Two bedrooms
and two full baths, but it is air-conditioned and has cable TV and
internet. The sala’s very large, with the glass doors toward the
ocean – you’ve seen it. Ten meters by ten meters with the dining
area on the left.”

Sylvia couldn’t decide if she had been
insulted enough not to ask, swallowed her pride and asked, “Oh?
What kind of construction – I mean what is it made of? I can live
with wood, but do prefer concrete block.”

“
Oh, it’s
concrete and steel,” Anita replied. “Personally, I prefer wood.
Nispero, but that’s too expensive.

“
Oh, we
have a large water tank, but the water here is dependable and known
as the best in the world. Chiriqui, you know.”

“
Is it
far from town?”

“
About
five minutes walking,” Anita replied.

“
Oh,
Gerry! Let’s look at it! Is it on the water?”

“
On the
water? A houseboat?” Anita asked, looking at her like she thought
she was an idiot. “It’s back above the high tide line. About
seventy meters from the beach.”

“
Oh? Does
the beach come with it?” Gerald asked.

“
Beachfront here is the same as the rest of the world.
Public property from the high tide line to the water,” Clint
answered. “It’s beachfront.”

“
Beach
back,” Anita corrected. “The front is toward the road.” Clint
almost burst out laughing at Sylvia’s expression.

“
Oh?
Gravel road?” Gerald asked.

“
Just
like this one,” Anita replied. “Asphalt, I think they call
it.”

“
Well, we
might take it!” Sylvia gushed, looking almost comically cagey. “How
much are you asking? I heard such places were usually about a
hundred a month. I guess we could afford that.”

“
It’s two
thousand five hundred a month, first and last with a two thousand
surety. You pay electric, but that’s only around fifteen dollars
per month.”

“
Good
lord almighty!” Gerald exploded. “I can get a two bedroom flat in
downtown London for that!”

“
Oh? Then
why don’t you?” Anita asked. “You might not like the beach much in
London, I think.”

“
This is
intolerable!” Gerald spluttered. “Who do you think you’re talking
to?! I’m a respected engineer, not some backwater
farmer!”

“
I think
I’m talking to a totally arrogant self-important international
jerk,” Clint answered. “I’m sure Anita – Doctora Sanchez to you –
won’t have anywhere nearly as high an opinion, but she’s a
professor of sciences at the school so is exposed to all
types.

“
You
won’t last a week here. Your type was figured out by the natives
here before you were born.

“
Well,
here’s Puerto Armuelles. Enjoy your stay.”

He got off with Anita at the ministro. Gerald
and Sylvia were trying to get a local character, Tom (actually from
Houston, Texas, but looked like a native), to tell them where the
best hotel was. “Djokel? Que? Djokel?”

“
Hotel!
HO-tel! Damn it, you know exactly what I’m saying!” Gerald
whined.

“
There’s
no “H” is Spanish. Oh-tel, sir,” Clint said, winking at
Tom.

“
Hotel
Central esta mas o menos,” Tom replied. “No muy caro. Las pensiones
estas mas barratos aqui.”

“
Hotel
Central is okay, but he thinks you want a cheap place, like most
gringos, so you can stay at a hospedaje for about six bucks apiece.
Backpacker digs,” Clint suggested.

“
I’m not
looking for anything CHEAP! I want some place that’s comfortable
where I can get out of this bloody HEAT! It’s going to rain any
minute! Is it always like this here? We made a big mistake coming
here!”

“
You sure
did!” Clint agreed. “This is a tropical ocean front area and you
complain because it’s tropical and because it rains? You
are
an idiot!”

“
There’s
always a seabreeze. It’s not often hot here,” Anita said. “You’re
standing beside a wall in the full sun and it will feel hot. Step
three steps past the wall and there’s a nice breeze.

“
I’ll
talk with you later, Clint.” She went on toward her restaurant.
Clint pointed across the park to the Hotel Central and said it
wasn’t a bad place. There weren’t any Hiltons in Puerto
Armuelles.

“
Thank
you,” Sylvia mumbled. Gerald glared and stalked off toward the
hotel. Sylvia called to him to not forget the bags. He looked at an
Indio (Obilio) Clint knew and demanded, “Bring our
bags!”

“
Fuck
you, turdhead,” Obilio replied. He put an arm across Clint’s
shoulder and said he’d buy him a beer. He wanted to talk. They went
toward the cantina. Sylvia was totally shocked, Gerald was about to
have a heart attack. As soon as they were out of sight Clint and
Obilio got a case of the giggles. Obilio had been close enough to
hear the exchange with Tom and the Cartworthys and went along. That
sordid type were more and more coming and were more and more
resented.

“
Do you
know what’s going on with Batty?” Clint asked.

“
He’s not
very much better than those two, but he’s a little smarter. He
would be alright if he was as stupid as them, but he thinks he can
think. He’s gotten tied up with that Mexican oil bunch.”

“
Lariez
and Compania?”

Obilio nodded and sighed. Clint rolled his
eyes and groaned.

Carlos Vermont, a small man from Colombia who
was now a Panamanian citizen and who Clint knew from David came
into the cantina and greeted them. He sat and asked why Clint was
gracing the lovely little town. Clint said Batty wanted him to
straighten out something or other.

“
Batty?”
Carlos asked.

“
Don
Bathner.”

“
Madre de
dios! No flako stupido Almirante Donaldo del ciudad grande de
Canton, Ohio?

“
Hay
cuidado! Hay mucho cuidado!”

(“Mother of god! Not skinny stupid Admiral
Donald from the big city of Canton, Ohio?

“
Take
care! Be very careful!”)

“
Admiral?
No. He never made it past staff sergeant. I guess he would act like
an admiral if he thought he could pull it off.”

“
Attitude. Big shot.” Carlos agreed. Obilio
nodded.

They finished the beers and walked around a
bit, then Clint said he would talk with Batty and find a room.
Obilio said he always had a room at his place, but he said he’d
stay in a hotel, seeing he might be getting into a dangerous spot
with that Mexican group. He went to the little office where Batty
was wheeling and dealing (Actually, he thought he was wheeling and
dealing. He was being jerked around four different ways at a time
and didn’t have sense enough to know it).