Clint Faraday Collection C: Murder in Motion Collector's Edition by CD Moulton

who nodded. “They’re
casino-type people,” he answered.
    Sergio got the names and passport copies and
such from each of them, asked a few questions and said he’d be back
later when the ME finished his CSI.
    “ You have
a ME and CSI team?” Catherine, the wife, asked, looking a bit
nervous and scared.
    “ Certainly!” Victor said. “We’re not really in the eighteen
fifties here. We have to send a lot of things to Panamá City for
analysis, but we have as modern a lab as anyone.”
    They moved around the house and asked very
few questions. Clint was cornered by Dickerson and asked how long
the investigation would take. He had to go to the states for three
days soon.
    “ It takes
as long as it takes,” Clint answered. “They’re
efficient.”
    “ I can’t
believe they’d actually do anything like that!” he cried. “I know
they hate us, but I didn’t think they’d do anything like that !”
    “ They
who?” Clint asked innocently.
    “ The
Indios or those niggers, of course! Who else would do anything like
that?”
    “ Who else
indeed?” Clint agreed. “Trouble is, it’s plain as the overdone
house here that none of them did it. One glance told us
that.”
    “ Oh?
You’re an expert at that, too?” he spat.
    “ Yup!
Full qualifications from Florida, the US, here ... it’s my
business.”
    “ Er! I
didn’t ever ask what your business is?”
    “ Investigator. Private and official.”
    “ They
never told ... I mean, you must have an interesting ... I mean,
it’s, er, good to know they have somebody here who knows his ass
from a cowflop with this kind of thing.”
    Clint had to turn away to hide that he was
trying not to laugh out loud. Dickerson was definitely not prepared
to meet anyone who knew anything whatever about murder
investigation.
    “ We’ll
have some questions later,” he said. “We have to know what to ask
you and we have to get background information on all of you.
Routine to know everything you can about suspects.”
    “ Er.”
    Clint went back to Sergio. He said he wanted
information about this bunch of rich thugs, bimbos and trailer
trash.
     
    Mobs?
    “ Manny,
there’s something to do with some mob connections here,” Clint
said. “These people wouldn’t fit with anyone else. They’re trying
to put on a face like they’ve been around the world and are high
class sophisticated and elite. They’ve probably never been outside
of ... Dave said Motown.”
    “ I have a
contact there. Jefferson. Used to be mob, went legit the last few
... Wait! That’s Cleveland. Greco’s in Motown.”
    “ Mo
Jefferson? I met him in South Florida. I think I met Greco ...
Miklocaras there, too. I kind of liked Greco. I was totally neutral
about Mo.”
    “ I can
get some info from them if they have it. Sylvia says she thinks
she’s seen one of those women. Women who hang around their mansion
in Carmel.
    “ What’s
going on? I heard that somebody got butchered by the
Indios.”
    “ It was
supposed to look like that.”
    “ I
see.”
    Clint remembered what Dave said. “What do you
know about a Xavier Franconi?”
    “ Cheap
wannabe hanging around the music business, then into art and
jewelry theft. Not worth troubling about.”
    “ Even if
he’s here in Bocas?”
    There was a long pause. “I think I want to
know some things. I’ll keep you informed.”
    Clint thanked him and hung up.
    What could it be? If Manny said they weren’t
witness protection what were they? If they were trying to hide why
the ostentation?
    Clint decided to go fishing. It was the last
thing those people would expect of him.
    Clint was tying to his deck when he heard his
phone buzz. He’d forgotten it. Again.
    It quit before he got to it. There was a
notation that he had 23 missed calls. He checked his incoming and
found that Judi, Sergio and Manny had called him. Repeatedly.
    Manny first: “Clint, there’s some weird kind
of complete silence in an area there never is. I can’t find out
what’s