The Clint Faraday Collection
# 1
4 books
© 2009 - 2012
by C. D. Moulton
Smashwords edition (c)2012
all rights reserved: no part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, either electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any other information retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright holder/publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
About the author
CD was born in Florida. His education is in genetics and botany. He has traveled over much of the world, particularly when he was in music as a rock rhythm guitarist with some well-known bands in the late sixties and early seventies. He has worked as a high steel worker and as a longshoreman, clerk, orchidist, bar owner, salvage yard manager and landscaper – among other things.
CD began writing fiction in 1984 and has more than 115 books published as of this time in SciFi, murder, orchid culture and various other fields.
He now resides in Bocas del Toro and David, Panamá, where he continues research into epiphytic plants. He loves the culture of the indigenous people and counts a majority of his closer friends among that group. Several have “adopted” him as their father. He funds those he can afford through the universities where they have all excelled. “The Indios are very intelligent people, they are simply too poor (in material things and money. Culturally, they are very wealthy) to pursue higher education.”
CD loves Panamá and the people. He plans to spend the rest of his life in the paradise that is Panamá
- Estrelita Suarez V.
Clint Faraday is a retired PI from Florida. He moved to Panama’ and became a neighbor with Judi Lum, an attractive Oriental woman he knew in Florida. She has become a great help in his cases. Though he was retired, he soon began to be called by the police in Panama’ for murder cases.
I base the characters and places in the series upon people I meet, places I travel, newspaper stories, personal experiences and just wondering why certain people acts as they do. I have lived in the Indigeno culture and find they are truly a wonderful society. There are flaws, of course, but that is true of any culture anywhere. There are certainly flaws in the material/capital oriented society in the states!
First three years I lived in Bocas del Toro Province on the Caribbean, though I traveled extensively. I now reside in David in Chiriqui Province. I find the Panamanian people to be among the most friendly and warmest people in the world. The four semi-separate cultures are the Caribbean Blacks, the Latinos, the Chinese and the Indios. In these times there are mixes of all types. most get along very well and respect the different cultures. It takes the influx of us gringos (it is not a derogatory word here) and Europeans to come here to criticize the cultures. The unpopularity of many are brought about by their arrogance and condescension. I find it inexcusable that so many come here with the attitude that the people will automatically be stupid and ignorant. they display their own stupidity and ignorance of cultural differences daily. There is no excuse for a person to come from the USA or England etc. and whine that these people won’t learn English. After all, they are spending their MONEY here!
This is not a money-oriented society. The language of Panama’ is Spanish. If you are going to live here, learn Spanish. If you are too good for that, go back where you came from. Luckily, for the most part the people here do not make group judgements. They form opinions on an individual basis. I don’t have to live with what you are.
So much for a private gripe. The fact is that there is far more individual freedom here than most places and they are a far more accepting people than I’ve encountered elsewhere. I was 68 years old when I came here and had never really felt at home anywhere. I wasn’t here two hours before I knew I was, at last, home.
Here are four shorter Clint Faraday books combined into one long one – more or less. I started with #5 because the first four were quite long in themselves.
C. D. Moulton, David, Chiriqui, Rep. de Panama’– February, 2012
Clint Faraday Mysteries
#5
© C. D. Moulton 2010 & 2011
This is a work of fiction. All resemblances to persons, living or dead, or events are coincidental unless otherwise stated.
Clint flies from Panamá City to Bocas del Toro where a beautiful woman flirts with him. He makes a date with her for that night. Strange things start to happen around him, there is a murder – that she seems to be mixed up in, somehow.
Contents:
Clint five: Dangerous Curves
Trash and Treasures
Trash and Treasures
It was a bit drippy when Clint Faraday, retired detective from Florida, boarded the plane in Panamá City for the flight to Bocas Town on Isla Colón. The rain had stopped and it was going to soon turn into a nice enough day now that he was leaving.
Well, Judi (Lum, neighbor) said it was nice in Bocas. He would get home early enough to enjoy a couple of hours of the afternoon.
He was seated just in front of the wing, window seat. Next to him was a rather attractive – well, a knockout, really – woman of about twenty six or eight years. Fantastic shape, about 5'8", reddish mahogany hair past her shoulders, green eyes, perfect teeth, even medium tan.
She smiled and said her name was Gina. Gina Halverson, she was Colombian, not a gringo, though both her parents were from the states. She was a secretary to a semi-politician, lawyer and stock dealer, among other things. She had a job in Bocas Town that started in the morning. A stock and real estate dealer she knew from Colombia. He had worked with her father, though she didn’t know him well or much about him.
Clint introduced himself, said he was a gringo at the moment.
“At the moment?”
“As soon as I can, I’ll become Panameño. I love this place.”
“I can see why. It’s beautiful. I really like the people, though some of them can be pains in the ass.”
Clint laughed. “Yeah. Some of any people can be pains in the ass. I particularly like the Indios. They’re very real people.”
“I tend to like the indigenos in Colombia. They are, as you say, people who are very real. I know I’ll like you. We share a philosophy. The ones who I can’t stand here and anywhere else are the arrogant bigots. They too seldom have anything to be arrogant about.”
“Well, seeing as we are destined to like each other, maybe I can show you around Bocas this evening?”
“THAT, I think, would be very ... pleasant.”
They talked about a number of things. Clint found she agreed with him in most things. It was going to be a great evening. He could feel it.
It was as nice in Bocas as Judi had promised Clint noted as he disembarked. It would be a little hot – this was the tropics – but there was a steady breeze off the Caribbean so it would be comfortable if he didn’t overdress. He helped Gina get to the Bahia, then went home to be greeted by Judi. She said things were as she liked them. Slow and calm. Even the tourists seemed to be in a good mood.
Judi is an attractive oriental woman who had been friends with Clint since he moved next door to her five years ago. She had been a great help in some of his cases. She was one of the four people in Panamá who knew who Manny Mathews was. (Marko Boccini, a major mafia don from the states who had moved there to escape what he was and raise a family who wouldn’t be ashamed of how Pops made his.)
Clint told her about the strange things his last case was still turning up. She told him all the gossip from Bocas. Same old same old except the Wild Bill had been caught and was the reason some of their friends had disappeared over the last few years. They both knew him slightly from seeing him around Bocas and in David and Volcan. “They’ve dug up five bodies already. We knew them all.”
Clint shook his head. You’d think a detective would have noticed something about him other than his tendency to overreact to some things. If Clint had checked on him he would have found he was wanted in the states for years.
You live and learn, then you die. Sometimes, or you die.
Clint told Judi about Gina. Judi said he seemed awfully focused on her. Was she going to turn him into a boring one-woman man? (Clint was known as a good time, but no commitments type.)
“She’s half my age. I’d consider it, I think. We get along on a different level than I’m used to.”
Judi laughed and shook her finger at him. “Slow down, Don Juan! You aren’t in Kansas anymore, you know!”
“Thank whatever gods may be!” Clint said and gave her the one finger salute.
Clint laid around, went through his e-mail, then got ready and went to pick up Gina, who was overdressed. He told her that would be too hot. People don’t dress up for much of anything in Bocas. She sighed and said that was too much to hope for. She’d be right back! She went back inside and came out a few minutes later in a light skirt and top. She’d also undone her hair and tied it up. Her heels were gone and she had on the same kind of footwear that Clint was wearing. Sandals (Changcletas, here)
They went to El Ultima Refugio for a fantastic meal, then walked around a bit. They stopped various other places for Clint to introduce his friends. Everyone said Dave (his nutty author/ musician friend) was playing at the Lemon Grass so they went there. Dave was an ex-rock guitarist who now did all kinds of music. All the local musicians came and went. It was a great night. While Rob was doing a couple of Dead numbers Dave came to be introduced. He introduced Selma, a woman he had dated in the states who was visiting. She had never been to Panamá or Bocas and was thinking of staying. It was a paradise! Dave had lived with her in Florida a bit and she could stay at his place until she decided whether she preferred Bocas, Puerto Armuelles, Chitre, David or wherever.
“Won’t that interfere with your open sex life?” Clint asked innocently.
“Not really. My sex life is almost nonexistent anymore,” Dave fired back.
“Oh. I thought you and Bobby had a bit of a thing,” Clint replied, still oh-so-innocently.
Dave wasn’t going to be outdone. “And?” He was a close friend of Bobby, a known gay man, as was Clint. Even though such things weren’t thought much about here, Clint doubted Dave would be interested ... still?
Selma caught on. “Oh, we don’t put silly limitations on each other. I have my thing, he has his. The only thing that’s set in stone is that we don’t either one bring something home like AIDS or a couple of others. You won’t live long enough for THAT to kill you!”
They laughed about it and talked about Wild Bill a bit. He knew Dave better than he knew Clint. Dave had always said there was something a little scary about him, but what had happened was beyond anything considered. They talked about the new businesses in town (most of which would be gone in six months) and Dave went back to do a few numbers. He would be playing at Lily’s Saturday.
Clint went home. Gina went with him. She said she really liked his friends, so far. They seemed as natural as the Indios. She thought Dave was a lot better musician than you’d expect to meet in such a place.
“You wouldn’t believe who comes here.” He told her about a few of the people Dave played with and for back in the late sixties, such as Janis Joplin.
It was a perfect night. Clint was up at five thirty and was laying in the lounge on his deck with coffee to watch the sunrise. Gina came out and said she would fix some breakfast. What did he want?
“Hojaldres and coffee and maybe some bolitas,” Clint replied. “We can walk into town and get something at Don Chichos or Chitres.”
“I make hojaldres and the coffee’s made. You have ground meat for the bolitas?”
Clint told her where to find everything and said she didn’t have to cook.
“Why not? I do every morning at home,” she replied. “I usually don’t care for the hojaldres in the cafés. They make them with too much sugar and get them too soft or too hard. Panameños use too much salt.”
She even liked the same cooking as Clint!
They sat around after the truly delicious breakfast for a few minutes, then Clint made chicha from a guanabana he’d bought from an Indio who came to his dock with anything special. Gina had never tasted it before and said it was the most delicious fruit drink she’d ever tasted!
Clint began to wonder if maybe she could make a one-woman man of him! It was too good to be real! He sure as hell wasn’t going to fight it.
Gina had to be at work at eight thirty so Clint walked into town with her. She met Bobby, who was a neighbor. He confided in her that he had tried to get Clint into bed for five years and he wasn’t going to stop trying just because some fantastic-looking bitch was in the way. She laughed and said to go for it, but no man would look at him after spending an hour with her!
When they left Bobby at the Hawaii Gina said she liked his friends – even the beyond-the-normal ones.
“Beyond the normal? Like who?”
“Oh, come on, Clint! There’s no way you can say Dave’s norm ... well, here. The ones who are boringly normal lumps back home would be the abnormal ones here!”
“We all like to have fun. No one takes offense. We can joke about it.”
She nodded. “I see that. Not much is weird or strange here.”
That would soon change.
“Clint!” Judi called across the bay from her deck. “Phone!”
Clint raised an eyebrow and went inside to call Judi.
“Something weird is happening,” she reported. “It may be connected to ... but it can’t be!
“Remember that land on the point just below The Bluffs? With those coconuts and pineapples and yuca?”
Clint said he did.
“There was a report that there may be a body buried there, so Serg (police. Sergio Valdez) went out and used a probe in all the likely areas.
“They didn’t find a body. They found a treasure chest. Lots of gold and emeralds and such. Doubloons and crucifixes and the regular things. It was a large chest, I understand.”
“It isn’t the first pirate treasure found around here,” Clint pointed out.
“And about a million and a half in dollars. That kind of thing was found around here, too, but not in the same box!
“You never turn your phone on. Serg wants you to come out. You can take the boat.”
Clint looked at his phone. It was on, but on silent ring mode. He sighed and said he’d go. She said to pick her up. This, she had to see.
He called Sergio on his private celular. He said there were some things Clint would find very interesting in the chest. It was also interesting that there was such a call that would lead them to this kind of thing. He couldn’t trace who had made the call. Gloria thinks it was a woman, but she’s not sure. They hung up too soon.
Clint said he’d be there in twenty minutes, then called Manolo, an interpol agent (No one but Clint and a couple of friends knew that), to ask if he had a clue. Nothing.
Clint picked Judi up at her dock and headed for the point, then to where he could see the police and a bunch of gawkers. He beached the boat and walked over to look at the chest.
It was definitely an old chest. It was covered in copper that was almost oxidized through in spots. It was about four feet by two and maybe twenty inches deep. The jewelry and such was certainly authentic. The stacks of hundred dollar bills looked real to Clint.
“Judging by the series on the bills, this has been here about fifty years,” Sergio said.. Clint shook his head.
“There’s something on a few of the bands on the money. B. B. y H. H. Mean anything?” He showed a band to Clint. It was in marker, hand written. Clint shook his head.
This was weird. Surely no one who knew about that kind of treasure would report it to the police! They could get every bit of it and be gone before anyone knew about it. They could dig it up, clean out the chest and rebury it and no one would know. It would be a truly rare accident for anyone to be where they could see what was going on there. It was hidden enough that regular traffic on the Caribbean wouldn’t see them there. His only clue was some initials or a code or something.
He talked with a few people, then said he was going back. Judi said there wasn’t anything that struck her.
Silvio Guerra, an Indio friend, caught Clint’s eye and motioned with his head. Clint mouthed “Casa?” and Silvio nodded. Silvio had a small place just past The Bluffs going toward Bocas Town.
Clint and Judi headed back home.
“Que paso?” Clint greeted Silvio.
“Ola, Clint. (Rest translated) I thought I would tell you that there was someone where they found the treasure last night. A woman, I think. She was there just when the moon came up over Carenero. She had a machine like they use on the beach to find money.”
“A metal detector?
“The moon isn’t far past full so it was about eight thirty or nine. Did she come by boat?”
“I did not see. I don’t ... she ... I was in my cayuca coming back from Drago. I think ... maybe there was a small ... one of those jet ski things.”
“Oh. Then from Bocas,” Clint replied.
“They have them at the Playa Mango and some of those places,” Silvio pointed out. Clint nodded and thanked him, then went back toward his house.
A woman. From Bocas on a jet ski or PWC. He went into Bocas to ask around the places those were available to find none were out past about six the night before. He got on his motorcycle and rode out to several of the hotels that had jet skis and PWC’s for their guests (rented at ridiculous prices, but, if you could spend 125 bucks per night you could afford 50 for a jet ski for an hour). The only possibility was at Caracol. Three of the personal cabins on the water had PWC’s.
Donald Ferguson and family, from New Jersey, Betina Blakley from Houston, and Frank Glissom from Atlanta. Nothing rang a bell. A call to Manolo told him none of them were on a watch list. A call to Manny resulted in nothing further.
One of those three was implicated. He would have to opt for Betina Blakley because of the ‘B. B.’ on those bands. He didn’t have another hint of a clue.
Betina Blakley stayed in her cabin alone. No one noted when she was or wasn’t there unless she left a message to tell someone where she was.
“She did that?” Clint asked.
“We don’t answer questions about the guests here!” Nick, the manager, snapped.
“I’ll be back with the police. You can explain why they were here,” Clint said. “About an hour. Right at dinnertime. We’ll look for you in the restaurant about then?”
He sighed. “What do you want to know?”
“If she left any messages for anyone and who. Not content unless it was criminal.”
He went to a spike with notes on it and went through them. “She left a message for anyone twice that merely said she was going to Drago for the day and one to a Raul Avenidas saying she would come to the office about four. Today.”
“Thanks. Not much there and certainly not criminal. I hope I won’t have to bother you again.”
He called Manolo and asked about a Raul Avenidas. There was a pause for about thirty seconds, then Manolo said it was possible he was being watched for jewel theft. He seemed to have a source of antiques that wasn’t explained, though, so far as they knew, none of it was stolen. It was from some years ago, not recent.
Clint told him about the chest. He was very interested, but would play it quietly. He couldn’t figure what it was except that Avenidas might have found the chest and had been letting items out a little at a time.
“For how long? Fifty years?” Clint asked.
“No. He’s only been at it for about twelve years. He’s in his early forties.”
Clint thanked him, then headed for the police station. He asked Sergio to check out Raul Avenidas very thoroughly. They might have a break. He then went home, got a call from Gina and prepared to take her to a few places. She wanted to try the food at The Lemon Grass so they would start there.
They chatted a bit about her day. She went to the hotel and changed while Clint talked with people he knew on the verandah.
“I had a good enough day, I guess. It’s mostly sitting around and answering the phone,” Gina said as they strolled toward The Lemon Grass. “Only one person came into the office. A woman who wants to invest in something or other. The boss was fawning all over her. It was mostly kind of boring. The only thing that makes it a good thing is that I have the total night to do as I please.
“How was your day?”
“Other than being a little strange, pretty much the normal way of things. They found a treasure chest that had stuff hundreds of years old. Lots of gold and emeralds and such.”
“I’d think that was exciting! It must be pirate treasure. I heard they found a few of them along here and in Colón.”
“It was partly pirate treasure and partly cash. Dollars.”
“Dollars? They didn’t have dollars back in ... I guess maybe they did. The later part of the pirate problem, anyhow. Confederate money and like that.”
“They were dollars from about fifty years ago.”
She seemed shocked. “That doesn’t make any sense!”
“My sentiments exactly. Weird,” Clint said. “Here’s The Lemon Grass and this is Judi Lum, my neighbor, friend and partner in solving crime. Judi, Gina.”
“I was just leaving,” Judi said. “Clint told me a lot about you, Gina. I see he wasn’t exaggerating at all! Selma said you were a bit of Okay.”
“It’s all lies! They hate me! They’re just trying to cause me grief!” Gina cried. Judi laughed and said Gina was going to be a buddy, sure as sunset.
She and Clint went in. They chatted about anything that came up and Clint introduced Gina to a dozen or so of the regular crowd. As they were leaving a rather fat individual came in with a local “lady” who worked the bars. Gina gave him a disgusted look and hurried Clint out as the man caught a glimpse of her. He was about to call to her, but they were out. She made it a point not to look in his direction.
“Who was that?” Clint asked.
“My boss. Raul Avenidas. He’s a scumbag – but he pays well. For the office. I doubt that one costs much. A few drinks and five dollars. He was nothing like I expected.”
Clint laughed. Very interesting. Raul Avenidas. Betina Blakley.
They went to The Rip Tide for a few drinks and conversation with a number of people, then went to Clint’s place. He suggested she move in. No need to pay for a hotel when she didn’t even use the place. She said she’d consider it.
They chatted a bit and sat together on the deck. The police boat went by and several of the officers waved to Clint.
“I still wonder why there were any dollars in the chest you told me about. Do you suppose someone found it and buried it back so they could come after it later? Maybe didn’t realize they’d dropped any money in it?” she asked. “Pirate treasure should be only that! It ruins the fantasy if there are newer things in it, not to mention how it needs explanation.”
“They didn’t drop the dollars in it. They put them in,” Clint replied. “You don’t accidentally drop a million and a half in hundreds into a box with five times that in gold and jewels already inside.”
“GUHH! MILLION!?”
“Uh-huh.”
She seemed to be unable to believe that. Clint wasn’t so sure he could believe it. It was just plain weird.
They were in bed for about an hour when the phone rang. Clint said he’d forgotten to turn the damned thing off and picked it up. It was Sergio.
“Clint? I’m sorry to bother you at this time of night, but there’s been a murder.”
“Details?”
“A woman was stabbed to death. Stabbed repeatedly. This was a murder by a person who was angered beyond control. The woman isn’t from around here and knew very few people in the area, it seems. Gringa from Colombia. Fifty one years old. She was staying at Caracol so she wasn’t poor by any standard.”
“Caracol? Tell me her name wasn’t Betina Blakley?” Clint said. Gina sat up and make a little cry.
“Yes. You knew her?”
“I think she was the B. B. on those bands. Any reason to come there?”
“Not that I can see.”
“I’ll see you in the morning, then.
“Gina, what’s the matter?”
“Betina Blakley was the woman who came to the office today ... yesterday.”
“Judi, this is getting weirder and weirder,” Clint complained over breakfast in the morning. Gina had made omelettes and a fruit salad. She had fallen in love with the coffee Clint had from the friend near Enel Fortuna who ground just a hint of cacao in as he ground the coffee that he grew. It was delicious.
“It really shook me when Clint said it was this Betina woman who was killed. She was in the office yesterday to talk with my boss. I figured she had money because he was fawning all over her. He can be downright obsequious,” Gina said. “I pretended I didn’t see him last night at The Lemon Grass so he’ll be trying to find out if I know about his whore – like I would even care.
“Clint, I’m going to wait awhile before I move in (Judi raised an eyebrow at Clint). I want to know if I even have a job much longer. My work card isn’t good for working anywhere else or for anyone else. I don’t know enough to make any plans, though I’ll definitely want to be back here, regardless. I like it better than Colombia.”
“What part of Colombia?” Judi asked.
“Not far from Cartagena, but that’s just for the work. My home, until the folks died, was near Medellin.”
Judi nodded. Gina had to get to work. Clint was going to be checking a few things out. Hewalked Gina to work. She had to fish around for her keys because Avenidas wasn’t there yet. Unusual. He was generally early. When she was inside Clint went to Don Chichos for the gossip, then to the Golden Grill. The talk was all about the chest and very little about the murder. They didn’t know much about it.
He then went to the police station to talk with Sergio, who said he had checked Raul Avenida out and hadn’t learned much. The murder took his attention. It seemed he was on the fringe of a lot of sordid things, but there was never a direct connection to anything illegal. He did come up with a few articles from twelve to four or five years ago that very well could have come from that chest. He had been living on the proceeds from that, comfortably, even extravagantly until lately. Now it seemed his funds were getting low. His business deals certainly didn’t account for what he was spending. The Blakley woman seemed to have some connection with him in Colombia and met with him twice that he knew about in Bocas over the past week. That was, apparently from the papers in her room, about purchasing some kind of company in Colombia. He started it there, moved here and she was only here to finalize the deal.
“Finalize a deal in Colombia in Bocas?” Clint asked. Sergio shrugged and said it probably had to do with the offshore account she had here in Panamá. “What I see at this point is that she’s dead and he was the only one who knew her. That makes a couple of very important implications.”
“What time was she killed?“ Clint asked.
“Between ten and eleven. Closer to eleven. Out by sixth street. No one saw or heard anything.”
“I know where he was at about eight thirty. The Lemon Grass. He was with a local pro. I think she calls herself Evette,” Cliff said. “Not among the better ones.”
“She hangs around the Submarine Sandwich place so we can run over and talk to her,” Sergio suggested. “She’s probably going to be his alibi, even though I doubt he did it.”
They went to the café, but she was over by the Bocas Market. They found her there. She said Raul was a bit of a weirdo, talking about the other women he knew and how they were all alike. Out to screw him out of as much money as they could.
“He really got weird about the old treasure chest they found, you know, the pirate chest, had ten million dollars in cash in it if you can believe the word going around.”
“Weird? What do you mean?” Sergio asked.
“Oh, I don’t know, really. I don’t speak much English and he was yelling about some cheap pig who cost him lots of money. She screwed him and he didn’t even get a kiss out of it. It didn’t make any sense.”
“What time did you leave him?” Clint asked.
“I think it was around midnight. He said it was time to get home because he had a lot of work for today and it was already after midnight.”
“You don’t know for certain?” Sergio asked.
“Well, no. We were at the VIP and were a bit drunk and he left me some money and I stayed until almost closing time. Donaldo took me home.”
They thanked her. Sergio asked Clint what he thought.
“We don’t know a thing more than when we found her. He could have been there until midnight or he could have gotten her drunk and left at ten. She wouldn’t remember.”
“What I’m thinking is that the VIP is right there. Someone going down to sixth street for a taxi would pass right in front of the VIP,” Sergio said. “It seems a bit convenient.”
Clint nodded. It did that! “Shall we go see if his story matches?”
It was Sergio’s turn to nod. They walked to the office and greeted Gina. Gina said he had come in less than five minutes ago and had one hell of a hangover. She called on the intercom and he said to come on in, but they had to take him as they found him. It wasn’t pretty.
He greeted them with, “Do NOT drink wine with dinner, beer after, then rum and tequila after that. I ended up in some dive with an ugly cheap whore I thought I’d never get rid of. Luckily, I was in a place where they knew her so I was able to get away by buying her a few more drinks and giving the bartender ten to see she didn’t leave for fifteen minutes. That’s my complaint and I feel like complaining. So there!
“What can I do for you?”
“You had business dealings with a Betina Blakley?” Sergio asked.
“Oh. The Blakley woman. A real pain in the ass, but I’m going to get a big commission so I try to be nice to her,” he said. “I don’t think she has anything to cause the cops to come. It’s not my fault MisCamCo isn’t thrilled about her getting such a block of stock, but they put it on the market themselves so they paid their two bucks and placed their bet, far as I’m concerned. She might not have gotten her millions exactly legitimately, but that’s no concern of mine, either.”
“Did you know she’s dead?” Clint asked.
Avenidas stared at him a few seconds, then sat down hard, almost breaking the seat off his chair. He groaned and wailed, “Then there goes my commission! I can’t AFFORD to lose that! Oh, SHIT! I was counting on that to ... oh, SHIT FIRE!
“Er, what happened?”
“She was murdered,” Sergio replied. “Stabbed. Rather sadistically.”
“When? She was here yesterday. She was ... she acted normally, for her. A bit nasty.”
“Last night,” Sergio answered. “We were wondering if she said anything to you that would indicate she was afraid of anyone or if she acted nervous or whatever.”
“Well, she was a little worried about the people who definitely did not want her to get control of the company, but they wouldn’t go that far. No matter what else, it would solve their financial situation and let them come back fairly strongly. It would have a negative impact on them to not have the deal go through – as I very carefully explained to her.
“She always carried a lot of cash around. Was it robbery?”
“Definitely not. It was supposed to look like it, but it was definitely not robbery,” Sergio said. “Her money and watch were gone, but she had on a diamond and ruby ring worth in excess of ten thousand dollars with matching earrings worth as much plus an antique emerald necklace that would probably bring half a million or more. I was surprised the ones who found the body didn’t take them. I was even more surprised that anyone would wear that kind of stuff in Bocas, then wander around sixth street, of all places.”
“I can see why they grabbed the watch. It was worth a bundle,” he said. “Maybe they were about to be seen and ran. She had some kind of thing about wearing thousands of dollars worth of jewels. Flaunting that she was a rich bitch.”
“Her body was found more than half an hour after she was killed so that isn’t likely,” Sergio replied. “Well, we’d better get on with it. We do have the reputation for solving murders fairly quickly and positively here – until this Bill character, but we didn’t really have a clue about that.”
“We have the added advantage of the watch. It’s damned easy to identify,” Clint added. “They can’t get rid of it and they damned well can’t keep it. If they toss it it’ll be found, then they will.”
“If they toss it they’ll be found?” he asked, confused.
“Very few know about it – so don’t let on. It will have to be someone we’ve mentioned it to,” Sergio said. “We’ll be in touch if we need anything more.”
They went out. Gina pointed to the intercom and grinned. Clint raised an eyebrow. He hadn’t seen any indicator light on in that office.
Gina saw his look and said, “I think the little red light is burnt out or something.” He grinned again and told her to keep her ears open, but don’t go too far. One person was already dead.
They went to the station where Sergio was handed several sheets of legal paper. He signed a couple, told Edith to arrest those two, then read over the next one. He said it was about Betina Blakley. She was born in Houston, Texas, and was taken to Colombia when she was less than a year old, was raised in Colombia and the states, went to UT, got an advanced degree in business administration when she was twenty two, then moved back to Colombia where her parents were living in a small puebla near Medillin. She worked for a couple of companies, married a rich Colombian who was killed twelve years ago in a drug cartel fight. She lived by investing a lot of cash in failing companies, taking over and making them pay. She threw a lot of money around, but she had so much she could show was legal that she was left alone. Adding up her accounts, particularly the three offshore accounts in Panamá and subtracting what she could show was legit left her with almost a hundred million unexplained.
Not much and a lot at the same time, depending on how you looked at it. A little nag started in Clint’s mind, but he didn’t have a clue as to what his subconscious had seen.
Next page was a list of people she had been known to have had dealings with. Avenidas was one of them. She knew him a lot longer than he had let on, though he didn’t seem to have had much dealings with her and it was a matter of how long, not how often. Contact between them was rare. A note said that he was in on a couple of deals with her father.
It clicked. Her father was killed twelve years ago and he had sold some jewels from that chest twelve years ago, then Betina went to where that chest was found the night before it was found – because of a tip from a woman.
That didn’t make much sense. It wouldn’t until he had some more to work with. It didn’t make sense, anymore than that cash in the chest made sense. If that chest was dug up twelve years ago and the jewels were taken ... but the money was no newer than fifty years old. This was weirder and weirder.
“What world were you in then?” Sergio asked.
“Oogy-googy land, I think. This is one hell of a mixed mess! NOTHING makes any sense!”
“At least you have things that make no sense. All I have is a body and one definite suspect.”
“Why would he kill ... because of the cash. It wasn’t supposed ... she ... I’ll be damned! That fits! She didn’t know the cash was in there EITHER!”
“Give!” Sergio demanded.
“I just have an idea that makes partial sense. I have to know about Avenidas and her father. I have to know a hell of a lot more about what was happening twelve and fifty years ago.”
“This is getting interesting ... I mean, in addition to weird.”
“We didn’t go too deeply into Avenidas in Colombia. There’s not a lot of cooperation.”
“I’ll get help from Manolo and a friend,” Clint promised.
Clint called Manolo for some information on Avenidas’ father and Blakley Sr. Anything. Manolo could get information from Colombia that regular processes couldn’t. He then called Manny to ask for any information from the states, particularly Houston, on possible connections there. He then decided to go out to the Zapatillas to laze around and think. He got back just before five and went directly to his comp. Both Manny and Manolo would e-mail their information.
Manny had very little about Avenidas. He had probably been in the states only once and had stopped in Houston for about two hours, then gone to New York, then returned to Colombia, then back to Bocas. The office had been there for some years, but mostly as a drop address for the stock deals and a little real estate business.
Betina Blakley spent quite some time in Houston for a number of years, but seldom in the past twenty four years. She had friends and a few business acquaintances there. There was a list of names she had most contact with.
Friends; Dona Forbes, Frieda Gormann, Glen Lange, Helen Venders, Rebecca Venders, Louise Giotti, Frank Bendetti, Charlene Dancy, Jim Bunch. Business; Samuel Levant, Shirley Green, Harold Halverson, Josephina Cortez, Sharon Mills. Nothing rang a particular bell. Each of the listed people had short profiles. Bendetti was a bit of a wannabe thug, Green was into loan sharking in a small way, Halverson was a contact in Colombia as well as the states. Cortez and Mills were minor players in a restaurant and bar business.
Clint got a bit of a chill at that one name. Was Halverson Gina’s father or uncle?
H H y B B. That was a little scary. Gina?
She was with him. She didn’t find any chest or kill anyone – but was she somehow connected to these people?
He would wait for Manolo’s report.
Bernard Blakley, her father, had died in a suspicious fire in October of 1998. He had a lot of dealings with everyone and was suspected of laundering money for certain drug cartels. He had a few legit deals, but his wealth seemed to be because he was clever about manipulating stocks to where he could do a hostile takeover of a company in trouble. Not much else was known about him.
That twelve years that kept coming up was beginning to make Clint wonder. He went into town. Ben and Judy were talking in front of Ben’s place, so they joined him. They met Dave at the Golden Grill, then went to the Bahia and talked Gina into going with them to The Gran Muralla Chinese restaurante for a delicious meal. Gina noted that Clint seemed to be in another world.
“I’m finding out a lot about Avenidas and Blakley,” he said, deciding it would have to come out sooner or later. Might as well make it now. “Seems they both knew your father for years.”
“Raul did. A little. I mentioned that when I told you why I was coming here,” she answered. “I don’t know much about his dealings. Blakley might have known him. She looked just slightly familiar. I might have seen her with Father years ago.
“Father was into some pretty shady things. I think he did some work for the drug people. He was scared of something for a couple of months before he and Mother died. He said that it was business and that Mother and I were better off not knowing. It was something that had put him into notice – he called it that – of a big drug lord named Ochoa. He died and left everything to my Mother, who died at the same time, leaving everything to him in her will. I got everything as surviving heir, but we haven’t been able to find anything except the house and a bank account that was just more than twenty thousand dollars, US. I’ve managed to go through that and had to get a job or get married, which is the Colombian girl’s only way to security.
“I don’t want to get married yet. I was offered a job by Raul at a time I needed it so here I am.”
“How did your parents die?” Judy asked.
“They were on their way to Bogotá and ran off the mountain when a truck was coming down the road on the wrong side. Its brakes had failed and the driver was in the hospital for four months because of being hurt when the truck went into the side of the mountain farther down.
“It was real. It wasn’t a setup or murder. I had that checked out very thoroughly. It happened in September of ninety eight and was investigated completely.
“I thought then, and still do, that Father had a lot of money tied up somewhere. I know I saw him with big sacks of money several times. I was in the garden one time when a man gave him a sack of money so heavy he could hardly carry it. He put it in the bodega and I snuck in to see when he and Mother went to shop. It was hundred dollar bills. I couldn’t guess at how much, but it had to be a million dollars. The next day another man came and collected the sack and left.
“I was eleven years old. I didn’t think much about it because Father always said Mother and I were not to concern ourselves about business things. Ever. It was the father’s job to provide for the family and the mother’s job to care for the house and family. They were separate parts of why a marriage worked. We got lectures on our proper roles. He was very good to us. Mother said a thousand times that he was a better provider and more caring than any other man in Colombia. I never once questioned anything he did. Looking back, I can see where maybe I should have.
“You can see why I’m so ... confused and worried about what’s happened here. Raul and Blakley, then that money in a chest full of jewels. Avenidas once showed me a sword with fifteen jewels he said was very old and worth probably a million dollars. He was mixed up with Father in business. I saw millions of dollars in cash kept in sacks. Money ended up in the pirate chest, which seemed to throw Raul into a rage. Blakley was wearing some jewelry when she was killed that could have come from that chest.
“I don’t know how any of it’s connected. I wonder if ... I don’t even know what to wonder about.
“That’s my true story. I can’t believe how naive I was. I never added two and two because I guess I didn’t want to rock the boat.”
“I’ll jump to a few conclusions myself!” Judy cried. “If you weren’t so naive you’d probably be dead. Maybe Raul has you here where he can watch you because that money and chest might belong to you!”
“Yeah,” Dave added. “Have the good sense not to wonder about it until Clint finds out a few things.”
“This gets weirder and weirder,” Clint said.
“You keep saying that,” Judy said. “Let’s drop it for tonight, Okay?”
Dave and Ben went to The Plank a little later. Judy, Clint and Gina went to The Toro Loco. Judy met a good friend and stayed there when Clint and Gina went to The Rip Tide to talk with Neil and Cathi. The rest of the night was very pleasant. Gina stayed at the hotel, which was the only sour note to Clint. He stopped at some little bar for a beer on his way home where he talked to some people, but didn’t even finish the beer. It wasn’t going to be as pleasant a night as the last couple had been. He was a little fuzzy about the later part. He didn’t think he’d had that much to drink.
Okay. That was possibly a very important fact. Gina’s parents had died in September of ‘98, definitely not murdered, then Blakley died in October, as definitely murdered. Avenidas started selling antique pirate treasure in ... exactly when? He had to know that date. It was either vastly important or incidental. Nothing between.
When he got up to a dark drizzle he checked the comp to find Manolo had sent some information. Much of it was covered by Manny’s information. Blakley had been laundering for two major cartels and was trusted by them. He was knocked over, but NOT by them. They lost a few million because of that and had tried to find who and why. They weren’t good at investigation. They always ordered people to talk and they talked. It wasn’t always accurate information, though it was too often acted upon as though it was.
Halverson was a sort of placement man. He took the money from one place and put it in another from which he arranged for it to go to a third place, minus commissions and fees, before returning to the original sparkling clean. His fees were reputed to have made him something over ten million dollars a year for some years. There was talk that some of it was missing at his death, that he had been ripped off for a lot more and that Blakley and some stockbroker were the ones ripping him off.