Clint Faraday Mysteries Collection B :This Job is Murder Collector's Edition (31 page)

That was a sick bunch. He hoped he’d never
have another case vaguely like it. Plain old everyday murders
weren’t a problem. This mess was. He still couldn’t understand how
anyone could be so empty as those people. It simply didn’t, as said
in the old TV show, calculate. Even when they were trying to find a
way to keep from being killed by this maniac who manipulated them
into becoming murderers themselves they showed zilch as to
emotions. It was all matter-of-fact and simply something they were
discussing. It could have been about how pretty the sunset was last
night and would show the same emptiness in them.

Not for Clint Faraday! Two of his Indio
friends walked past Peter’s Place in the Hotel Iris and waved. He
felt a warm affection for them. If anything about an excess or lack
of emotions applied to him it was on the excess end.

A pretty girl came to sit across the little
table from him and start a conversation. So she was a prostitute.
That was looked at in a different way here. He told her he had a
girlfriend and wasn’t interested. She nodded and said she wished
she could trust her own boyfriends, but being in the business
taught her that was true of one man out of maybe a thousand.

“
The thing is, it’s a macho thing here.
It’s funny, but I think I find that the man who turns me down
because he has honor is a lot more macho than the ones who just
want to fuck and don’t care who it’s with. I’d offer a freebie, but
you’d say `no,’ right?”

Clint nodded. She laughed and insisted on
buying him a drink. They talked a bit and she saw another gringo
come in. A man in his sixties who looked around, then came to sit
on the balcony four stools away.

“
Back to business!” she said, gave him
a peck on the cheek and went to talk to the gringo, who immediately
waved for Yessie to bring her a drink. She winked at Clint and sat
to lean close to talk to her new mark. Clint grinned. He went to
his room and to bed. He would go to Bocas in the morning. Chiriqui
Grande and then home.

News Flash

Clint laid back in the hammock on his deck to
watch the CBS news from Denver. He’d been back for two days, the
group of mixed nuts was back in the states and the case was marked
as resolved by Sergio. That was the same as saying solved but not
prosecuted here. It would serve very well.

Judi waved to him and went to water the
orchids all over her deck and around her house. Dave had planted
hundreds of varieties there (as well as at Clint’s)(and at
Ben’s)(etc.) for study. The places were turning into small
botanical gardens. Clint, despite himself, was getting interested
in the amazing variety of forms, colors, and sizes. One was hanging
on a limb about a meter from his head. It was a flower about 7cm
across that was blooming on a plant that was no more than 2cm
high!

Homalopetalum
pumilo
. He had even learned the scientific names of a
few of them.

Suddenly the girl telling a story about some
homeless Colorado people having set fire to an old abandoned house
and four of them had burned to death was handed a piece of
paper.

“
News Flash!” she said. “Just in from
Los Angeles, California.

“
Business magnate Donald Fieldman,
owner of a national chain of hardware stores and eccentric recluse
has jumped from his twenty fourth floor balcony. Business partner
Markus Stedmann, visiting at the time, says Fieldman was depressed
about something and had excused himself to go to the sanitary. He
had been gone for more than ten minutes when Stedmann went to look
for him.

“
Here is Vernon Vernon, on the
scene.”

The scene was in a dirty alley with an
ambulance and several police vehicles, including the CSI van.

“
Thank you, Connie.

“
It is too soon to make any positive
statements, but it appears that Mr. Fieldman was depressed about
some business failures that were having a domino effect on his
holdings. The failures were in Central America, but were by the
suppliers of much of the imported things sold in the Fieldman
Enterprises stores. Mr. Stedmann, who admits that he was in some
kind of legal trouble in one of those countries, said Mr. Fieldman
was a bit intoxicated and deeply depressed. He suddenly said he
must use the facilities and went from the room. About eight or ten
minutes later, when he hadn’t returned, Mr. Stedmann went to look
for him, but could not find him in the apartment.

“
Mr. Stedmann, in his statement to the
police that I was privy to, said that he noticed the balcony door
was open. It wasn’t when he went in because the air conditioner was
on. He went out and found a scribbled message. It said, and I
quote, `To the group: I have had enough of this. I want it to end.
Now!’ and was signed by Mr. Fieldman.

“
That is about what we have to this
point. Back to you, Connie.”

“
We will give more details as they come
in. Now back to the report on the homeless ...”

Clint turned it off.

I figured he would find a way. I wonder, did
he feel any excitement when he dumped Fieldman off that
balcony?

He went back to the hammock with a Balboa to
lay back and forget that bunch.

Another wonder: what happened to the rest of
them? Would they continue the game on their own now that they had
no manipulator? Faith and Stedmann could get away with it. The
others probably couldn’t.

What a way to live!

Judi called across that she was going to the
Nine Degrees for dinner. Did he want to go?

He thought about it.

Enough of restaurants for a while. He’d cook
something himself.

“
Thanks, but no thanks!” he called
back.

Judi went inside and Clint laid back. The
sunset across Saigon Bay was magnificent. The world has a lot to
offer if you’ll just see it – and no person or government is
blinding you to it.

The computer dinged that it had e-mail.

“
Screw it! Not tonight!” Clint
decided.

C. D. Moulton’s works are available on most
major outlets as printed or e-books. CD writes the CD Grimes, PI
mysteries, the Det. Lt. Nick Storie mysteries, the Clint Faraday
mysteries, the Flight of the Maita science fiction series, books on
orchid culture and many others of many types. Mystery, adventure,
intrigue, science fiction, fantasy, paranormal, mild erotica, and
factual.

The Clint Faraday Mysteries

#10

... Or So the Gods Said

(c)2011 & 2013 by C. D. Moulton

Collector’s edition
© 2014

Smashwords edition
© 2014

all rights reserved: no part of this
publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any
means, 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.

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblances
to persons, living or dead, or events is purely coincidental unless
otherwise stated.

Clint is having a discussion on the bus with
a priest from The Church of Absolute Truth in Life .. or something
such. The conversation gets weird. There are always a few nutcases
here, so he doesn’t think much of it – until the murders.

Contents

On the Bus

Chiriqui Grande

Rio Uyama

Las Tablas

Darien

Bocas Town

Panamá City

Mali

David

Home

About the author

CD Moulton has traveled extensively over
much of the world both in the music business, where he was a rock
guitarist, songwriter and arranger and in an import/export
business. He has been everything from a bar owner to auto salvage
(junkyard) manager, longshoreman to high steel worker, orchid
grower to landscaper, tropical fish farmer to commercial fisherman.
He started writing books in 1983 and has published more than 200
books as of January 1, 2014. His most popular books to date are
about research with orchids, though much of his science fiction and
fantasy work has proven popular. He wrote the CD Grimes, PI series
and the Det. Nick Storie series, Clint Faraday series and many
other works.

He now resides in Puerto Armuelles, Panamá,
where he writes books, plays music with friends, does research with
orchids and medicinal plants – and pursues his favorite ways to
spend his time: beach bum and roaming the mountain jungles doing
his botanical research. He has lately become involved in fighting
for the rights of the indigenous people, who are among his closest
friends, and in fighting the extreme corruption in the courts and
police in Panamá.

He offers the free
e-book,
Fading Paradise
, that explains what he has been through because of the
corruption.

On the Bus

Clint groaned inwardly when he got on the bus
to Chiriqui Grande from David. The only seat open was next to a
thin tight-lipped sour-looking man in his early thirties who had a
Bible in his hands – which was probably why no one sat next to him.
Clint nodded shortly, said “Buenos,” shoved his small maleta under
the seat and sat.

“
Good morning, Brother,” the man
announced. “I am called The Most Reverend Emanuel Howland
Charleston. May God bless our journey through these savage
dangerous pagan lands with his never-ending love and
mercy.”

“
Whatever,” Clint replied. “Faraday.
One of the savage pagans.”

The man looked more than a little
embarrassed. “I meant no disparagement. These misguided people are
unaware of their damnation for the unmoral lives they lead. I am
here to attempt to educate them in The Way.”

“
Oh, really? `Savage dangerous pagans’
isn’t disparagement of them?” Clint asked innocently. “Perhaps we
have a different dictionary. I find most of these people to be very
moral and peaceful people.

“
I’m not interested in your brand of
religion. Religion’s a personal matter. I would never try to force
my beliefs – or lack of them – on anyone else. That’s never
appreciated.”

“
I fear for their eternal souls! The
Bible tells us plainly what is the fate of those who will not
accept the gracious offer of The Lord for eternal peace and
plenty!”

“
Uh-huh. And five hundred other cults
also have the ultimate answer that excludes anyone who doesn’t
follow their idiot codes.”

“
Sir! I resent that! Deeply! I have
found the ultimate truth and it is demonstrated daily for all but
the deliberately blind to see and hear! There is but one path, one
very clearly marked, to truth and salvation! The Bible tells us
exactly which path leads to heaven and which leads to
hell!”

“
Oh? You didn’t read the part about
spouting your religion on the streets being a fast way to guarantee
you the hell you’re so afraid of? I believe the part I mean is
something like `... for they shall not know the kingdom of heaven,’
or something in that vein,” Clint asked a bit stiffly. “Maybe you
should check your concordance for the reference. It would seem to
me you’ve taken a rather dangerous detour from your path to
salvation.

“
We should maybe discuss other things.
I don’t prance around the fact I don’t like to argue religion in
public.”

“
But you do believe in an all-powerful
god, surely!”

“
Ask yourself, `If there is an
all-powerful god why am I even needed?’ All such a god would have
to do is put the socalled facts in the minds of everyone at birth.
The least thing would be to make the announcement where there would
be no question.”

“
But every sunrise and sunset
demonstrates the undisputable answer! Every flower and tree shouts
the truth to us!”

“
Really? Ever smelled
Bulbphyllum putridum
? Beautiful
flower. A whiff of the odor and you vomit. How about cockroaches
and scorpions? What evidence of god is there? A red sky in morning
is an old warning that storms are to the east and will come toward
you. The sunrise and sunset make statements, I guess, but they can
be downright ominous warnings. It’s the nature of light, not a
picture painted by god.”

“
But those are not things of god,
necessarily. Satan has placed such things to deter us in our
thoughts and divert us from the true path!”

“
So now Satan can create? I thought
only God could create. Isn’t that what your Bible tells
you?”

“
You, sir, are among the damned! You
will not see the truth when it is demonstrated by the very fact you
exist!

“
I am not descrying your sad life.
Honestly, I am most concerned for your immortal soul!”

“
I said from the first I don’t swallow
your brand of crap. I’ll appreciate it if you save it for someone
who gives a damn about it. It bores me and begins to get on my
nerves. As the natives say, No moleste!’

“
But, sir! I’m in great fear for your
personal damnation if you refuse to see the True Path!”