Twisted Roads to Murder: Clint Faraday Mysteries

By C. D. Moulton

5 novellas

Curtain Death
Two bodies on the Enel Fortuna dam. Hit and run in a heavy fog? Not those two!

A Wreath for Sam
A funeral wreath is delivered to Sam Martin. Problem was, he wasn't dead!

A Poisonous Personality
And she was about to become a poisoned person. Why? Who?

A Grave Responsibility
A friend is in jail because of a charge that he had killed his brother. It was shown to be untrue, a misunderstanding. Still, his brother was murdered, so Clint investigates.

A Timely Burial
A friends interment is announced on TV. Clint says he's a bit miffed that he wasn't told about it when he was talking with the guy ten minutes ago! Who actually was going to be buried?

• Language: English
• Publisher: C. D. Moulton
• Release date: Aug 6, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201325527

Book preview

Clint Faraday Mysteries

Twisted Roads to Murder

Five books

© 2020 by C. D. Moulton

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 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.

These are works of fiction. Any resemblances to actual persons or events are purely coincidental unless otherwise stated.

Curtain Death

Two bodies on the Enel Fortuna dam. Hit and run in a heavy fog? Not those two!

A Wreath for Sam

A funeral wreath is delivered to Sam Martin. Problem was, he wasn’t dead!

A Poisonous Personality

And she was about to become a poisoned person. Why? Who?

A Grave Responsibility

A friend is in jail because of a charge that he had killed his brother. It was shown to be untrue, a misunderstanding. Still, his brother was murdered, so Clint investigates.

A Timely Burial

A friends interment is announced on TV. Clint says he’s a bit miffed that he wasn’t told about it when he was talking with the guy ten minutes ago! Who actually was going to be buried?

Contents

About the author

Curtain Death

Foggy Night

Unclear View

Assassination Attempt

Bad People, Bad News

Don’t Make Me Laugh!

Protect Your Ass!

Trails and Tales

Almost Doesn’t Cut It

News Flash

A Wreath for Sam

Delivery

Who Is Sam Martin?

The Trail Blurs

Life in the Big City

Early Retirement Fund

All Around the Water Tank

A Life Story

Rainbow’s Ends and Gold

And Then....

A Poisonous Personality

Nasty Customer

Second Attempt

Remove the Incentive

Musical Chairs

Past Foibles

Pound Foolish

Personal Paradise

A Grave Responsibility

Questionable Statement

Word Games

Reason and Reasons

Fat Chance!

Dark Corners

So What?

Don’t Say the Wrong Thing

Surprise!

Caso Cerrado

A Timely Burial

Interesting!

Identifying John Doe

House Call

Doctor, Doctor Gimme the News

A Tangled Web

Monster Mash

Thought Processes

Trial

Home Again

About the author

CD began writing fiction in 1984 and has more than 300 books published as of 3/15/16 in SciFi, murder, orchid culture and various other fields.

He now resides Gualaca, Chiriqui, Panamá, where he continues research into epiphytic plants and plays music with friends. He loves the culture of the indigenous people and counts a majority of his closer friends among that group. 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.) to pursue higher education.

CD loves Panamá and the people, despite horrendous experiences (Free e-book; Fading Paradise). He plans to spend the rest of his life in the paradise that is Panamá

CD is involved in research of natural cancer cure at this time. It has proven effective in all cases, so far. It is based on a plant that has been in use for thousands of years, is safe, available, and cheap. He was cured of a serious lymphoma with use of the plant, Ambrosia peruviana.

Information about this cure is free on the FaceBook page Ambrosia peruviana for cancer. CD asks only that all who try it please report on its effectiveness on that group.

Curtain Death

Clint Faraday

book twenty six

(c)2012 & 2020 by C. D. Moulton

A dense fog in the mountains that makes the carretera as much as impossible to drive. Enel Fortuna dam. Two bodies. Looks like hit-and-run.

Not those two!

Foggy Night

Clint stretched and reached for his coffee cup on the rail, next to his hammock. The sun was just below the horizon, across the Caribbean, turning the sky into a fantastic range of colors. The light breeze coming across Saigon Bay to his deck over the water gave a slightly cool hint to the daybreak.

What to do today? He had enough diving and fishing, the past two days, and it had been a month since that last case, where the guy was found dead, wearing a shroud.

Raul Castanetas went by in his cayuca, and called the Coin dega! good morning, in Ngobe, the Indio language. Clint waved, and returned the greeting.

Maybe he’d go into the comarca to visit his best friends for a couple or three days. They always welcomed him, because there was always, or so it sometimes seemed, excitement, when he was around. Murders.

He drained the coffee cup, and went inside to get another. He was as much as a coffee addict, and Panamanian coffee was the best to be found, particularly this. A friend grew, dried, and ground it special, for him and Judi, his attractive nextdoor neighbor, who helped him with his cases.

He was a retired PI, from Florida. He had a lot more cases here than he ever had in Florida, and had proven himself to be a friend and aide to the Policía Nacionál de Panamá. He worked with Sergio Sanchez on many of his cases, there, on Isla Colón, as well as in Bocas Province, generally. He worked cases all over Panamá.

He went back out to wave at Judi, watering her orchids on her bay deck. She wagged a finger at him in their long established ritual. He didn’t wear anything before he had his morning swim, and decided what to wear for whatever he planned for the day.

Judi and Clint both had large collections of orchids, as did Ben and Earl, neighbors, and any other closer friends of their nutty writer/ botanist/musician friend, Dave. He went all over Panamá, studying the orchids and medicinal plants. He had just found what appeared to be a definitive cure for cancer. A plant that was an obnoxious weed in all the Americas.

He finished the coffee, as the sun rose, to seem to be sitting on the sea at the horizon. He dove into the bay, swam for about fifteen minutes, climbed back onto his deck, rinsed, and went in to put on khaki shorts and a tank top. The line from Jimmy Buffet’s song went through his mind, when he looked in the mirror: Old men in tank tops, Cruising the gift shops.

Well, he wasn’t that old. Sixty two. He had felt it would develop into a problem, when he married Tyna, just nineeen, at the time. It hadn’t. He loved her more, every day. She said there was nobody in the world who could compete with him as the perfect husband. He felt good, and kept in top physical shape, so age was only a number.

He checked his computer, answered the two legitimate e-mails, erased eleven spams, and sat back. He got a call from Tyna, who was visiting in Cusapín, visiting an aunt who was sick, and needed someone to help her, for a few days.

He poured another cup of coffee, and went to stand on the deck to watch the weather pattern. It would be a good day.

The phone rang, again, and he picked it up. It was a police officer from Chiriqui. Clint had worked a couple of cases with him.

Clint? Tonio here. How are things?

About as perfect as it gets. You?

The fog’s very bad, here. I’m on the dam. There are two bodies a bus driver found when he was crossing, as soon as the curtain thinned enough for him to see ten meters ahead. It looks like a hit-and-run, except for one small detail, as you are prone to say.

Which is?

It’s Miko Itumi and Jorge Sardina.

Doesn’t mean anything to me – wasn’t Miko involved in that sheik thing? Isn’t he in jail for the next twenty to life?

Got out on a technicality. Retrial starts next Tuesday.

Technicality?

And Jorge Sardina was the judge, now retired, who bought a big finca, just below here, out of Calderas, less than a week after he found the technicality.

The judge found the technicality? Isn’t that the lawyers’ – of which he had four – job?

Why, Mr. Faraday! What are you suggesting? Judge Sardina was above reproach, except for those twelve or fifteen charges against him for corruption that the other judges threw out!

Clint gave the phone the finger. So? Need  help?

I’d say, ‘Yes,’ but you know the kind of people we’ll be going after. I won’t blame you for a second if you tell me to shove it up my ass!

Well, if you’d caught me when I had something else to do, I’d probably tell you exactly that. I’ll get there in about three hours. I guess you can’t preserve the site that long.

The chopper should be there, about now. I knew you would want in on this one!

I’m giving the phone a one finger salute – with a twist!

He heard the chopper coming into hearing, and rang off, to grab a few things and put on clothes that would suit the cold at 1800 meters elevation, in a dense fog, with a breeze.

He was aboard, and on the way to the dam, in six minutes. Judi waved as they rose.

This would be an interesting one – or maybe not.

Unclear View

The fog was really denser than Clint or the pilot liked as they sat on the visitor’s viewpoint at the dam. The police truck was there, as were two ambulances and the CSI van. An officer was directing the few cars and buses that were there around the conglomeration. Tonio waved, and came to the chopper, to tell him what they had.

"The two were laying there, as they are now, when we arrived. The Changuinola bus driver, Berto Marineros, was doing the slow waltz across the dam, maybe twelve or fifteen kilometers per hour, because of the fog – it was a lot worse than it is now, and you can just see them, now – and the glare. Doc says they were hit by a truck or bus, but he’ll have to do a complete to be sure they weren’t dead when they were hit.

"That’d be my guess, seeing who they were. Somebody didn’t want them talking or showing anyone something.

"You can look at them. Doc says he’s about through sweeping the scene.

"Now. What I’ve learned with the radio goes something like: Itumi was sentenced to twenty to life, he served less than a week, when the judge found what he called a large gap in the evidence. It seemed that the connection with the killings on Bocas was a knife with the victim’s blood on it. The knife was now missing, somehow, and the judge, Sardina, said there had been a break in the chain of evidence security. The knife was sent to Panamá City by aeroplane, and the sealed package appeared to have been opened during that flight, so it well might have become contaminated, at that time.

"There was nothing to indicate the package had been opened. The judge suddenly claimed he had been informed of that fact in a sidebar, and it had slipped his mind. The police lab man, who was supposed to have reported it in court, now said he had told the judge the package seemed to have been torn, or something, as he remembered it.

"There is no record in the trial recordings of the lab messenger ever having been in court, much less approaching the bench. The messenger now has a new job, where he makes triple what he made working for the police lab.

"Duh!

That’s about it.

What was the messenger’s name?

It was, here it is, Santo Fernandez. Why?

Do you have an address?

At the station, yes.

"Get someone there! He might already have had his accident. Somebody’s eliminating all possible witnesses.

What about Sheik Bigmouth? What happened to him?

They sent him back to be prosecuted on that island he once owned. He was publicly stoned, as I understand it. Reverting back to the old law.

Check to be sure that was done. If it was, we have a worm in this apple, right here!

Tonio nodded, and went to the radio. Doc talked with Clint for a few minutes, showing him where he thought the head had been caved in on the judge before he was run over. They were run over by tandem wheels. They weren’t hit and run over.

Clint nodded, and went back to Tonio, who was getting a report.

"A man is going to Fernando’s place. The sheik was definitely stoned. They refused him burial in hallowed ground, or whatever, and he was dumped into a pauper’s grave.

Doc’s through, and the crew would prefer that I was gone, I think. They know their job. You can ride into David with me, if you like.

Clint liked. He got his maleta off of the chopper, and climbed in back of the truck with the police crew. He talked with them. Two officers got off in Hornitos, and two went on into David with them.

Clint checked into the Pensión Costa Rica, where he cleaned up a bit. He got a call from Tonio, as he was leaving. Fernandez didn’t come home, last night. He rather expected something on that order would be the case.

Who else would be able to testify about any of this? That hanger-on thug? Was he still in jail, or had he also been released on a technicality?

Clint got a good late lunch at Mi Bacata, and headed for the fiscalia and the court – where he was denied access to the records.

He called Tonio, who said he was meeting a solid wall of resistance to getting any information about the case. It seemed that the reputation for corruption in that division was getting bolstered, very much, by this process. There were definitely more than a couple of people involved in it.

Clint remembered Dave’s continuing involvement with it. Three years of fighting it, and only a slow advance against it. Politicians ran for office, swearing to get rid of that corruption, then became even worse, in very short time.

They don’t want this to go further. There could only be one reason for that! Tonio snarled. "Well, the law reads that anyone who is involved in corruption that results in a major crime is a direct accessory. That means the ones who were involved can then be charged with accessory to murder. I intend to see they get prosecuted for that.

Clint, I will work with you, in any way I can. If we can search them out, I guarantee you, they’ll be prosecuted. I’m going to Panamá City with this. It’s making police work useless. It has to stop.

We can’t stop it. It’s too ingrained. We can slow it down, some, though, Clint replied. What was that thug’s name?

Other than ... Lobo? I don’t know. I’ll look up the records. I can find that from the reports in Bocas and David, and bypass those corrupt snakes in the court system.

It will be on the police computers, so they can never be rid of it. Clint thought for a minute, then said he was going to the internet, to do a little research. Maybe there was a way to find part of what they needed to know.

He went to an internet service company, and sat at a machine for more than six hours, then went to dinner, then returned to the internet. A lot of things are public record. First, find a reference in the newspapers, then use a search to expand that. It was a slow process, but he had some success.

He went to the Costa Rica to sleep his seven hours, then went to the police station. Tonio was pouring over written reports. He said it was all supposed to be in the comps, but they somehow forgot to input the information.

Clint soon noticed a woman who was spending far too much time right outside of the office door. He picked up a paper, read a bit, then turned, as if to go to the door. She quickly went to a nearby desk, and sat there, to look busy. Clint had exceptional peripheral vision, and was able to never be seeming to look her way. As soon as she was away, he asked Tonio about her. He hadn’t noticed. He’d go along with Clint, to see what she was up to.

They stayed with the papers for a few minutes, then Clint saw her move to near the door, again. Tonio nodded the least bit, and called, Snra. Lange, come in here please.

She was right there, and he was looking directly at her. She came in. Si?

Please call ‘Nando Larencia, at the jueza, and ask for an appointment, then get the files I will list ready.

Si. She went out. Clint grinned at Tonio.

Judge Larencia?

His name comes up too often, in this. I’m going to innocently ask him if he can remember a few little details that seem to be lost, here. I found a couple of things that aren’t in the records she’ll bring. I’ll see how he reacts to what I ask, and if he gives me the real information.

If not, he’s a biggie in it? How will he handle it? Got a guess?

Lange came to the door, to say, The judge has a full calendar, today. He can see you at ten thirty in the morning, if that is suitable?

It’s not, but it’s what we have. Very well.

She went back to her desk, which was not the one she went to when Clint looked like he was heading for the door.

So. Now she can fix the files, maybe? They’re ones I looked at last evening. I have copies of the pertinent parts.

Clint grinned. I think maybe we can light a fire or two under that one.

"Let’s not get into tired cliches. I’m tired enough, without that.

I seem to have asked Lange for files that aren’t about what I wanted to cover with him. It will seem that a couple of other odd things came up between now and tomorrow morning.

We can spend some time comparing the things you’ve learned with what I’ve learned, Clint suggested.

After lunch. I didn’t have anything, except this horrible office coffee, this morning.

They went to a little restaurant for some local food. It was delicious.

They met, and compared notes. Clint would go with Tonio to the judge, in the morning. He went back to the internet for the rest of the day.

In the morning, he and Tonio made one more comparison. It was easy to see what had been excised from the police records. Clint noted, one more time, that, once something was on the net, it could never be completely erased again.

As they were going up the steps at the Ciudad Judicial, Tonio got a call. It seemed that the thug involved with the sheik thing was killed last week, in his cell. Apparently, a fight with other inmates.

Use the grapevine to let it be known that whoever did it will be next. He has to be stupid not to know that he’s now the link to whoever’s behind it. They have to silence him, then the one who silences him will be silenced.

Tonio nodded. I thought of that. Maybe we’ll get someone who wants to save his own worthless ass!

They went in, and to the judge’s reception room, where they waited half an hour. They took it as a matter of course. This was a standard ploy.

Judge Larencia was a slightly pudgy, nervous, small man, with an air of being busy, so hurry it up!

"I just have to get a little information about a case you were involved in, about a year and a half ago. That Mediterranean