Clint Faraday Mysteries collection A Muddled Murders Collector's Edition (77 page)

The trip back was as quick and relaxed as the
trip in. He was wondering what would go wrong. Too much good
fortune scared him.

There was a derumbe. He would have to wait
for it to be cleared before the road would be passable. He sighed
and told himself he knew it. It was cleared in fifteen minutes and
he was back in Bocas almost on schedule. This good luck simply
couldn’t continue! Things didn’t happen that way for him!

“
The
idiot didn’t know Martin had the place titled. They thought they
could grab it the way they grabbed the land they were living on,”
Clint explained to Judi, Dave (his weird musician friend), Sergio
(Cptn. violent crimes) and Manny (retired mafia don and close
friend). “They got the max for murder and every time they step out
of jail for six or eight times they’ll be arrested again on the
other charges. There’s no time limit to trial here if the charges
are filed on time. It’s a life sentence, in effect.”

“
Want to
go fishing tomorrow?” Dave asked. “I’m going to be out past the
Zapatillas on the other side of Tierra Oscura and you can use the
boat while I’m screwing around in the jungle.”

“
Why
not?” Judi replied.

Exactly!

The day dawned perfectly. There were a few
low clouds to the east and the normal clouds sitting on the
mountains to the west. Several green parrots sat on the rail of
Clint Faraday’s deck to squawk at him. He tossed them some grapes
from the bowl on the table.

They came some mornings. Clint liked to watch
their antics. Parrots seemed to enjoy life.

A large leopard ray swam leisurely by. The
chum that hung around under his deck didn’t pay it much attention.
A large blowfish chewed something off of a post, the small crabs
saw it coming and climbed out of the water until it was through and
swam off, then went down into the water again. There were three of
the large starfish on the bottom, clear through seven or eight feet
of water.

The water was generally clear here, but could
get cloudy when there was turbulence in the Caribbean.

What to do today? He went fishing and diving
two days in a row, his computer work was up to date, most of his
friends were in Boquete for the Feria de las Flores.

Maybe he’d walk around town a bit to watch
the tourists gawking at the handmade trinkets his Indio friends
sold along the main street. He could gab with Jim and friends at
the Golden Grill and spend the day doing nothing. That was good now
and then.

Things had been going far too well lately.
Clint was used to the way his luck ran to extreme highs, then
suddenly plunged to as extreme lows. He always felt a little
trepidation when it was so good so long. He was anticipating the
fall. The trouble with streaky luck meant that his high made for a
really sharp drop.

Funny. Even the lows in Panamá weren’t that
bad. He’d adopted the local concept of “Have a beer! It’ll get
better in a day or so!” philosophy. So far, it had always gotten
better.

Also so far, it managed to get worse in the
same cyclic way.

Dumb
mood! He put on shorts and a tank-top and flip-flops. Jimmy
Buffet’s
Margaritaville
’s
words came to him. “Old men in tank tops, cruising the gift
shops...” Maybe he would check out the chiquitas down on the shore
– except there wasn’t any shore in town to watch them.

He’d watch them walk by the park.

What a stupid mood! He walked into town
greeting friends. Bobby, a gay neighbor, walked along with him for
part of the distance. They discussed the group of tourists in town
from Denmark. Mostly surfers. Judi Lum, his attractive nextdoor
neighbor from Taiwan, was at the China (grocery store) and said she
was going to Boquete on the David flight at 12:00 to see the flower
fair. She’d stay in David for a couple of days and do her shopping
for clothes and things for the house. They were about half the
price in Bocas there in David.

Gisela was at Bongos setting up for the party
at noon. A group from Japan were coming in and some of them had
eaten at Bongos on former trips. The new Wary-Wary Restaurante with
the fancy outside dining tables was doing well now, but Clint
expected them to fail within two years. Too fancy. Too much
overhead. Too many backpackers who couldn’t afford the prices.

He stopped at Chitres for lunch. It was
excellent local food and was far less expensive than the hotel
restaurants. Clint preferred the local fare. In the afternoon he
went back to his house to swim off of his deck and laze around.
Another perfect day in paradise. The sunset was a peaceful one with
little color in the sky.

Dave, his weird author-musician friend, came
by and said he was playing tonight with Curtis and Rob at Refugios.
Want to come along?

“
I think
I’m going to just lay around and enjoy the lucky streak tonight,”
Clint replied. “It’s been a long one for me!”

“
Anticipating the fall? Getting in the good while it
lasts?”

“
Exactly!”

“
Yo,
Clint!” Travis called from the front door at five thirty in the
morning. Clint was already up and having his first cup of coffee.
He called for Travis to come on in.

“
I came
by to tell you that there were some really hoody types hanging
around the Barco Hundido last night. They were speaking English. I
didn’t let on that I speak it because of what they were saying.
They’re from California and Chicago. They’re looking for a
syndicate boss someone said they saw here.”

That would be Marko Bocinni, known here as
Manny Mathews. Travis didn’t know about him or that he was here to
get away from the mob life and to raise a family who wouldn’t be
ashamed of how Pops made his.

“
Why
would I care?” Clint asked.

“
Because
they said he was seen with you in a fishing boat. The boat’s
registered to Manny. There were several people in the boat,
including Dave and Judi.”

“
We’re
out in his boat all the time. There are always a few visitors and
people we knew from the states with us. I doubt any of them were
the mob boss type, but you never know. Manny and Dave have some
scary friends, though they seem to be pretty much decent when you
get to know them.

“
Thanks,
Trav. I appreciate the warning. If it’s some stateside hoods they
may get nasty before they know the facts about
anything.”

They chatted for almost an hour. Clint wanted
to contact Manny immediately, but that would make Travis
suspicious. Travis finally said he had to get back to Almirante and
left. Clint got right to the phone and called Manny. He didn’t say
anything that could give anything away. They had a code they’d
worked out from the first. Cell phones are easy to intercept.
Almost as easy as land lines.

“
The trip
up the Rio Oeste with the gringos this morning,” Clint said after
saying he was getting stuff together for the day. “You said to come
to Cristóbal at nine?”

(“I’ll come over at nine. Trouble from the
western US.”}

“
Yo!”

“
The
river will have some logs and such after the storm the other day. I
saw some coming out into the bay. I think they’re mostly balsa, but
even that can be dangerous. We’ll have to be careful in the
boat.”

(“They’re hoods. Someone saw us in the bay in
your boat. Be armed and ready for anything.”)

“
Yeah. I
think it’s good that the wife and kid are in Boquete for the fair.
I’d call it off if they were here. If it inconvenienced one or two
of the people going, tough shit!”

“
Okay. Be
there at nine. Room for Dave?”

(“I’m bringing Dave.”)

“
Always
room for one more!”

They rang off. Clint called Dave. Dave knew
the “Rio Oeste” code and said it might be fun. He wanted to check
some of the Catasetums and Encyclias along the river.

Well, maybe the lucky streak was over!

They arrived at Manny’s Dolfin Bay dock at
ten to nine. Clint was followed by a fast cigarette boat that
dropped in behind him at the marina. He went around behind Isla San
Cristóbal and Sheppard’s Island to lose the boat in the grass
flats. He would seem to be heading directly to the mouth of Rio
Oeste. As soon as the cigarette boat dropped back and headed around
Sheppard’s Island he doubled back and around San Cristóbal on the
far side. Manny had a dock there on Dolfin Bay as well as the one
on the Bay of Almirante. Manny tossed a backpack into Clint’s boat
and they headed out toward Dolfin Point. Dave had a small place
there where they would be protected. Manny had contacted his wife
with another code and warned her to stay in David among people for
a few days. She had close friends in Las Tablas and said she might
go there while she was on the Pacific side, anyway. They met Jose’
at Dolfin Point and chatted. They hinted that they wanted to get
away from Bocas and all the crapola for a few days. This was the
best place because no one would think of looking for them there.
Jose’ wouldn’t tell anyone where they were.

Clint slipped his boat up to Dave’s dock
under the thick mangroves and they moved into his cabin. A few of
the native Indios came by – Indios are most of Dave’s closer
friends – and he asked that they keep a lookout for anyone asking
about them. He told them honestly that these were dangerous people
and there might be quite a fight if they were found. At four
o’clock Sergio called to say that Billy Andrews was dead. He’d been
tortured.

“
Who the
hell is – or was – Billy Andrews?” Dave demanded.

“
He was
here two weeks ago for a couple of days. He came with some tourist
people from California,” Sergio answered. “I do NOT like the looks
of those people! They remind me of the thugs on TV!”

“
That’s
exactly what the hell they are. Keep a close eye on them. They seem
to have a gripe with Clint, me and maybe Manny. We don’t know what
it’s about, but we’re in a pretty good place to defend.”

“
Serg,
remember that Gibson character I had the disagreement with at The
Casbah? I think he was a hood – as I said at the time – and we were
seen with him by this Billy-Bob person. He reported that to the
bunch there now. I figure that turkey was an important mob figure
and no one was supposed to know he was here. Now they want to find
him and think we know where he is or something as stupid. Those
people are probably importing drugs into the states and the Gibson
character ripped them off or something on that order. That makes it
dangerous to anyone he was seen with.”

“
Yes.
That would fit what seems to be happening. They’re definitely
looking for a big mob jefe. They asked a lot of the people at the
Barco about some guy named Marko that you know. I’ve heard about
that. They may think Gibson is Marko. That kind of
thing.”

“
Shit!
Gibson doesn’t look ... except maybe at a distance. They’re the
same size and build. They’re both Italian. I think maybe Billy-Bob
saw us somewhere and came back with these cruds to identify us and
maybe Gibson. He’s probably dead now because he couldn’t deliver.
Maybe this bunch think they were set up by Billy to get knocked
over by Marko.

“
Crap!
Marko doesn’t work that way and never did! He’s living in the
Mediterranean on an island to get away from that kind of
crap.”

“
Well,
keep a low profile until I can check them out. So far I can’t
charge them with anything.”

They talked a minute, then rang off.

“
Good
story!” Dave said. “Wish I’d written it!”

Manny and Clint gave him the finger.

“
There
were several boats that were just looking around for something
since maybe eleven o’clock or so,” Aurelio, one of their Indio
friends, reported. We’ve parked some cayucas at the end of the dock
to load cacao. No one can see that your boat is under the
mangroves.”

“
Muchas
gracias, Aurelio. They’re dangerous people we don’t want around
here,” Dave replied. “If they find us, don’t let anyone be around.
There will be a fight with guns.”

Aurelio looked grim and nodded. They chatted
about the cacao crop for a few minutes, then took Aurelio’s loaded
cayuca away and immediately brought another to take its place. This
one was to be loaded with yuka. The next one would be plantains.
They would keep boats there all day. They used Dave’s dock all the
time so it would seem normal.

Aaron brought some fish he’d caught just past
noon. Dave likes to cook, so made a big meal for everyone there.
Omar would bring lobster later. This is starvation fare in the
Caribbean Panamá. No one can afford hamburger or beef, very little
chicken – and lobster and fish are there for the taking. Dave fixed
fried yuka and made a salad from native greens to go with the
coal-baked fish. It was delicious.

They couldn’t be seen from the water, but had
a good view out. Twice boats came by moving slowly, obviously
searching for something. A helicopter also came over, but was heard
and seen long before it got there. All they could see from it would
be some Indios cooking something in coals. Manny was worried about
being seen from the house lights at night. Dave said that was less
than no problem. He drew some heavy drapes across the windows. They
would sit on the deck with no lights for the most part.

The helicopter flew over about an hour after
dark and running lights could be seen in the bay. The Indios don’t
use running lights.