Clint Faraday Mysteries collection A Muddled Murders Collector's Edition (71 page)

“
If we
find it we can chart it,” Sergio pointed out. “There might be
something on file.”

“
You have
files of ... oh, yeah. When I got the pistol permit they took DNA
samples,” Clint replied. “I suppose they’ll have other
samples.”

“
I think
that soon there will be a DNA sample for everyone when they get a
cedula,” Doc said. “That’s almost everybody in Panamá. There’s some
talk of required DNA samples worldwide for passports.”

“
That’ll
be one from the states. Big brother is watching you! On the other
hand, it’ll certainly make a lot of crime detection a hell of a lot
easier.”

The medical computer attention signal dinged.
Dr. Astrades went to study the screen. He said her fingerprints
identified her as Serena Windham from Shreveport, Louisiana. She
was in Panamá now on a tourist visa with a full residencia in
progress. She had arrived eighty six days ago and had her temporary
visa renewal set up for getting the residency transfer papers two
days ago in Changuinola. The ninety day visa would expire January
two.

“
THAT
might be a very important bit of data!” Clint said.

“
Really?
Why?” Doc asked.

“
Where
did she get her first card?”

“
Panamá
City,” Doc answered, reading it off the screen.

“
And she
applied for the renewal...?”

“
Yes.
Changuinola. I think I ... see what you mean,” Sergio said.
“Someone didn’t know where she was until she applied for the
renewal stamp could, as you say, be important.”

“
Or not.
We have to find out. What else do we know? Where was she
staying?”

“
That, we
don’t know. Yet,” Sergio replied. “I can have ... it’s on the
renewal form. Punta Robalo.”

“
So I go
to Punta Robalo.”

Punta Robalo is a picturesque little
peninsula into the Caribbean just northwest of Chiriqui Grande. It
consists of a few houses and a tienda or two along with the regular
businesses in such places. It’s in an area where there’s some petty
crime, but is generally quiet. Clint knew some people there so was
able to find that she had been staying in a private house there and
paying room and board. She had given the name of Janice Wells to
people. No one would check her ID there.

An alias in a small out-of-the-way village.
She was hiding from someone for some reason.

“
I want
to check on anyone from Louisiana who came to Panamá in the past
three months and have not left, where they are now, where they’ve
been while here,” Sergio said into the com-radio set at the
station. “I know that’s a large order, but there’s been a
murder.”

“
We can
use the computer for use of visas in a few seconds. I’ll fax a
list,” came back. “As to where they’ve been ... unless they were
... I can check reservations on the airlines and the through
buses.”

“
Thanks,”
Sergio said. “Well, Clint. We’ll have what they have in a few
minutes. We can go over the reports, but there’s not much. We have
a bit of blood of a type that’s not hers. Doc is running a DNA
chart on it. We can check our own data base and send for Louisiana
to do the same. There was a baseball cap in the stuff Mario found
with a few hairs caught in the adjustment band. It’s a reddish
brown, so isn’t a Panamanian.

“
Her hair
is bleached. It was what Doc called more a tannish sandy color –
whatever that means. Maybe a light dirty blond?” Clint nodded. “She
had recent sexual activity, but it is indeterminant that it was
rape or by any strong forcible means. It could be kinky rough sex,
but not too rough. DNA was recovered.

“
She had
a baby at some time. Doc estimates one to two years ago. Not by
caesarian, so normal birth at term. She had some dental work and
had suffered some abuse that liking rough sex might indicate, but
it was on the top end of that. The dental work was probably because
she had a couple of teeth knocked out. All of it within the past
three to three and a half years. Her clothes and those found where
she had been staying were bought here in Panamá. David and
Changuinola. The only luggage she checked in on the flight here was
a small suitcase carried on as hand luggage and a cosmetics case.
She had perhaps two thousand dollars in cash, but could have used
an ATM with her Visa card. It was from New Orleans Federal.
Debit/credit card. She didn’t have much jewelry. A gold watch and a
small diamond ring. Cheap earrings.

“
Louisiana is sending us everything they have on her. It
should be here in a couple of hours.

“
That’s
it for the moment.”

“
I can
guess a little from this,” Clint said. “That she was running from
an abusive boyfriend is pretty certain. ‘Why’ is the question, but
it might have to do with the baby. We have to know where it is and
why it’s not here with her. We find him, we find her killer. He’s
right here. It shouldn’t be too difficult.

“
We might
have a hard time getting anything solid if he’s staying somewhere
else and wasn’t seen in Bocas. If he’s anywhere in the province we
can tie his ass to a lamppost.”

“
If he’s
in Panamá we can tie his ass to a lamppost,” Sergio said. “This
isn’t the states and he can’t get away on the silly technicalities
here. If he’s here she was running from him, she’s dead by murder,
he gets the maximum. At the moment he’s guilty if he’s here.
Period. Here, you’re guilty until proven innocent. The victim has
some rights here like they do NOT in the states.”

Clint couldn’t argue with that point! He’d
seen too many times how the system worked and it worked very well
in most cases. In the states they would catch him, he’d show she’d
been seeing another man because he once caught her talking to him
in a bar, would be smeared as a cheap whore who ran around every
chance she got and it would be claimed he killed her in a fit of
passion and it was all HER fault because she drove him to it! He’d
get away with a minimum sentence. Here, he could prove she was a
prostitute, the state would make him state how he met her – which
they would show was after she was in a business which isn’t illegal
here and would throw it out as irrelevant. He wasn’t driven into
anything if he knew about it all along. Next witness. He’d get the
max.

Sergio’s point about tagging him if he was
anywhere in Panamá would be based on the fact that no one else here
would want her dead. She didn’t know anyone here long enough to
incite that kind of hatred. No one would kill her because he was
rejected. You couldn’t find anyone who hadn’t been rejected any
number of times. That was what sex was like. If this one turns you
down you look elsewhere. Maybe you resent it a bit so you won’t
ever buy the bitch another drink! You go to the next one and
say,“Hi, honey! Want some company? My girlfriend just dumped me and
I certainly need some company.” It’s a good line for starting a
conversation.

Weird line of thought, but true.

The fax dinged and a list of thirty nine
people from Louisiana came on. Clint looked it over and noted that
most were traveling with family so would automatically be put on
the back burner. He wouldn’t eliminate them altogether because
there would always be a possibility that was what it was about.

That left him with: Leonard Bellows, 47,
single, with ACRD Enterprises as a real estate agent and
consultant.

William Frances, 31, single, CPA,
tourist.

Arlen LeGrande, 27, divorced, investment
search.

Richard Travers, 29, single, (?) tourist.

Edouard Withers, 33, married, machinist,
tourist.

Marcus Greco, 44, single, musician,
tourist

John Johns, 63, widower, retired,
tourist.

Clint decided it was probably Frances,
Travers or Greco. That made it much simpler!

Yeah! Right!

The families were the George Killians, the
Henry Fallows, the William Berts, the Yancy Bottoms the Joseph Ben
Bills and the Samuel T. Youngs. They could either be checked later
or become unnecessary sooner, depending on which of the first list
did it. He would wait for the other information – the hair in the
cap was female. Color and texture matched Mary Macon, who said it
was her fishing cap.

The list of where the various people were
came in. It was, of course, incomplete. You could catch a bus to
almost anywhere and the ID wasn’t checked. You got on the bus and
paid when you got off. If you went from David to Bocas del Toro it
was a matter of getting on the bus that was in the terminal or
flagging it anywhere along the road and paying the $7.00 when you
got off in Almirante three or four hours later.

Leonard Bellows was staying in Boquete and
the general area.

William Frances went to David but no one knew
where he went from there, if anywhere

Marcus Greco went to David and Las
Tablas..

John Johns stayed in Panamá City.

Arlen LeGrande went to Bocas del Toro.

Richard Travers went to Bocas del Toro.

Edward Withers had no record of anything
since he arrived in Panamá City and may still be there.

Travers and LeGrande were definitely in the
area. Bellows and Johns were probably out of it. That left just
five to check out.

Clint checked the hotels. Withers was staying
at the Sagitario. LeGrande was at the Playa Mango.

Clint met with LeGrande first. He was right
there at the hotel at the time of the murder. He was with a girl
who worked for the hotel as a desk clerk during the day. They got
along and had a date. She confirmed it. He was out. That left
four.

Withers was on a tour. Clint waited while the
boat came in at five. He was certainly big enough and fit enough
and seemed to have an attitude. He was a black with a chip on his
shoulder. The local blacks didn’t like him at all. He was the type
who made so many gringos suspicious of blacks. He was also at the
Cosmic Crab on Carenero at the time of the murder, drinking with
another black with as bad an attitude from Tampa, Florida. Mohammed
Something-or-other was on the same tour and griping because the
first thing the cops did when there was trouble was round up all
the brothers.

“
In the
first place, look around you and see what’s there,” Clint
suggested. “There are fifty or more blacks right around this dock,
most of whom own the boats like this one – Hi, Maxie! Que tal?
(Maxie, who owned the boat, waved and said, ‘Fine.’ when was Clint
going to visit him at his finca? The wife wanted to fix him some of
his favorite lobster chowder) and no one is rounding anyone up.
Color isn’t an issue here.

“
In the
second place, Withers is from the state, Louisiana, where the
victim was from. She wasn’t here long so we look at ANYONE from
that area. If you get over yourself for a few minutes you might
find this is a great place to relax and blend. The only reason you
don’t is that silly crap line! The next president of the United
States is black, so the line won’t work anymore. Get a life! Make
it one where you’re responsible for how people react to
you.

“
All I
wanted to know is where Withers was at a specific time. It’s a
question I’ve already asked a few whites. If he was with you the
question’s answered and that’s probably the end of it. Thank you
for your cooperation. If the regular police here asked and got that
attitude bit you’d both be taken to the station for interrogation
and you’d have to come up with several other people who could
verify. That would take a couple of days at least – and would be
the result of your own actions.

“
I’m
wasting my breath. I’m sort of stupid that way. Have a nice stay
here.” He walked off, stopping to chat with Carlos, a good black
friend, who had heard the lecture and who agreed
totally.

Three left. They wouldn’t be so easy.

He went to the station to tell Sergio what
he’d learned. Sergio said they had the information on her from
Louisiana if he wanted to look it over.

Serena Allison Windham, 28, (description),
born June 4, 1980, Longwood Tennessee, last known address: 4110
Hollytree Lane, Shreveport, Louisiana. Trade school (Barker Pvt.)
Barryville, Georgia, secretary WSDG Moving and Storage, Atlanta,
1999-2003, hostess Little Black Pig Bar-B-Q and Lounge, Shreveport,
2003-present. NOW (no outstanding warrants) NPR (no police record).
Son, Warren Cole Williams, December 15, 2007, Mercy, Shreveport.
Biracial. Male parent unlisted.

That put Withers right back in it – and maybe
Mohammed Whatever. Nothing said the father and/or killer had to be
from Louisiana! Maybe he should get further corroboration as to
whether they were at the Cosmic Crab when they said they were.

“
Change
anything?” Sergio asked.

“
Maybe.
We know we’re probably looking for a black.”

“
I saw
that, but the report didn’t say ‘Black’ – it said biracial,” Sergio
pointed out. “I already sent a request about that and for a DNA
chart of the child.”

“
A DNA
chart?”

“
Half
match. Better than fingerprints or whatever. Proof of parentage,
not of murder.”

“
I hadn’t
thought of that one, but you’re damned well right!” Clint
exclaimed. “Of course, the father will have one hell of a fun time
explaining why he’s here – if he is.

“
They
don’t have to allow the DNA test, you know.”

“
To find
the mother’s killer? I really don’t think they’ll
object!”