by K C Ames
There was a woman who seemed to be in her early thirties. She wore a black open blazer and pants. Her hair was black, and she wore it in a professional low ponytail. She was beautiful.
The woman seemed to wait for Picado to introduce her, but when he wandered into the living room looking around the house, she took it upon herself to introduce herself.
“I’m Detective Gabriela Rojas, an investigator with the OIJ in Nicoya,” she said.
“Junior detective,” Picado said dismissively with his back to everyone as he continued to look around.
Rojas rolled her eyes and gave Dana a see what I have to put up with look. Unlike Picado, she seemed nice, Dana thought.
The third person was a blond-haired, fair-skinned man that looked American to Dana.
“I’m Adam Mitchell with the United States Embassy.”
“The Embassy?” a surprised Dana asked.
“The OIJ is kind enough to let an embassy official sit in when they question American citizens, and they keep us in the loop when a U.S. citizen dies in their country. So we’re two for two in this case,” Mitchell explained nervously.
Mitchell seemed unsure of himself and his role in the proceedings, which couldn’t be more polar opposite than the way Picado presented himself. There was no doubt Picado was in charge and that Mitchell was intimidated, if not downright frightened of him. Picado immediately took charge of the meeting.
“I’m the senior homicide detective in this area and the lead investigator into the murder of Mr. Roy Kirkpatrick,” Picado said. “Mr. Mitchell is here as a courtesy, and he’s only here to observe. If you have questions about these proceedings, you ask me, not him.”
Dana could see Adam Mitchell cower. Picado had ratcheted up the tension to its breaking point in less than five minutes. He had yet to ask her a single question. Dana turned to look at Courtney, who looked terrified. Dana smiled at her. She would not let this man intimidate her.
Detective Picado was in his fifties. He was thin and tall, with dark skin, short black hair, and piercing black eyes. He had a thick black mustache that was so black, it seemed dyed.
They all sat in Dana’s living room, and for the next forty-five minutes, he held court as he asked Dana and Benny about the lawsuit and the fight over Casa Verde.
“You don’t think Roy’s death has anything to do with this property?” Dana asked.
Picado scoffed. “This is a very valuable property. I’ve seen people killed over a shot of guaro.”
“Well, I don’t even know what guaro is, but I had nothing to do with his death.”
Picado looked at her dismissively.
“Guaro is a very strong drink here. Kind of like tequila,” Mitchell said sheepishly.
“It's more like rubbing alcohol than tequila,” Benny interjected.
“That is not important,” Picado barked. “All I’m saying is that I’ve seen people killed for something far less valuable than this property.”
He turned his attention to Courtney, and Dana could see her best friend tense up.
“And you are a friend of Ms. Kirkpatrick from San Francisco. Courtney Lowe, correct?”
“Yes,” Courtney replied.
Finished with generalities and background questions, Picado got down to it.
“It does not appear that the motive for the murder of Mr. Kirkpatrick was robbery or drug-related, which are usually the reasons for killings around here. So when I asked Mrs. Skylar Kirkpatrick if she could think of anyone that might have wanted her husband dead, she brought up your name immediately. Now, why would she say something like that?” Picado asked.
“First of all, it’s not true. Roy was my cousin, and no matter what happened between us, I would never want him hurt or killed. But like you’ve said, we are involved in a legal dispute over this property, but I would never resort to killing a human being for anything, especially over something so trivial as a piece of property. I don’t care how valuable it is,” Dana said.
“That’s not what Skylar Kirkpatrick thinks,” Picado said. He stared at Dana’s face closely. Dana knew the technique. It was one they had taught her in journalism school and a technique she had honed well over the years. It was a great skill to try to see if the interviewee’s face gave off a tell that showed if the person was lying.
“I can’t imagine what she’s going through, losing her husband, and we have been involved in this property dispute, and although Roy and I weren’t close anymore, there was never animosity between us. Skylar never liked me, so I guess that’s why she’s saying such horrible and vicious things about me, which let me be clear to you once again, Detective Picado, her accusations are one hundred percent not true. I had nothing to do with my cousin’s death,” Dana said.
Picado looked down and began jotting into a pocket-sized notebook.
Benny leaned back and smiled. Dana smiled back. She knew she was handling the ill-tempered detective well. She wasn’t letting him rattle her cage.
Picado scribbled away in his notebook for a few more seconds in silence. The whole room fell into silence. Then he looked back up at Dana and said, “Mr. Kirkpatrick was killed at eleven thirty p.m. on Sunday. Where were you that night?” Picado asked.
“Right here. Well, upstairs in my bedroom, asleep,” Dana said.
“I can vouch for that. We even slept in the same bed,” Courtney chimed in without being asked.
Picado raised an eyebrow and looked at her. Courtney looked around and noticed everyone else had skewed their attention to her.
“Because of those loud monkeys raising Cain all night, they scared me,” Courtney explained.
Dana blushed and said, “Actually, Courtney, on that night we slept in our own separate rooms.”
“So if you both were asleep in separate rooms on the night of the murder, then you can’t say with certainty that either of you remained in that room from the time you last saw each other that night until the next morning when you saw each other again. Isn’t that correct?” Picado asked.
“Well, yeah, but—” Dana tried to speak, but she was cut off by Picado.
“Thank you, that is all for now,” he said.
As the detectives and Adam Mitchell prepared to leave, Picado turned around at the front door to face Dana. With a steely glare and stern voice, he said, “You’re not allowed to leave the country while this investigation is ongoing.”
“I moved here, so I’m not planning on leaving anytime soon,” Dana said, feeling defiant.
“If you leave the Nosara area, you need to call Detective Rojas and let her know where you’re going and how long you’ll be away from Mariposa Azul Beach. I don’t care if you’re going to the next town over or up to San José, you must let us know. Is that understood?”
“I understand. No problem,” Dana answered calmly.
“Mind if I talk to you for a few minutes?” Adam Mitchell asked as Picado and Rojas walked outside.
Ramón was out front with a machete cutting yuca. Dana watched Picado walking over to him with his notebook in hand and begins talking to him. She couldn’t hear what he was saying, but Picado pointed in her direction.
“Seems like I’m the prime suspect,” Dana said.
“Not necessarily. Picado enjoys making everyone he interviews squirm into thinking they’re a suspect,” Benny said.
“Well, it worked,” Dana said.
Mitchell fidgeted with his tie.
“So what’s your role here, Mr. Mitchell?” Dana asked.
“I’m afraid there isn’t much we can do in these types of situations. We don’t have jurisdiction here, and even though you’re a U.S. citizen, you’re under Costa Rican law, not U.S. I can try to facilitate communication and observe the process to ensure it’s fair, but only from a third-party observer status,” Mitchell said.
“Well, that inspires all sorts of warm, fuzzy feelings,” Courtney said.
“Sorry. But as an embassy representative, I’m here as a courtesy of the OIJ. I’m sure you know by
now that they are the Judicial Investigation Department unit of the Supreme Court of Justice for Costa Rica. We had to lean hard on the powers that be in San José to even let me sit in on this interview. I just want to make sure you understand that the role of the Embassy here is limited, but the ambassador knows of what’s going on and she’s following the case closely. I’ll be reporting back to her tomorrow,” Mitchell said.
“You’re leaving?” Dana asked.
“Yes, I’m going back to San José tonight. It’s good you have a local attorney to help you,” Mitchell said, looking over at Benny. “If you’re arrested, the OIJ will let me know and I’ll be available if you have questions,” Mitchell said.
Dana and Courtney’s eyes grew wide. “Arrest me?”
“I don’t mean to frighten you, just covering all the bases, and Costa Rica has a law similar to our Miranda Rights, where you can abstain from providing a statement without your attorney, so don’t be hoodwinked into thinking you don’t have that protection. You do, so don’t say anything without talking to your lawyer first. If for whatever reason you need another attorney, let me know,” Mitchell said, handing Dana his business card.
“I have calls out to top-notch criminal attorneys,” Benny said.
“Anyway, call me if you have questions,” Mitchell said as he stepped outside. “They're my ride back to town, so I have to go,” he said, walking towards the white sedan.
Picado seemed to be finished talking with Ramón, as he was getting into the front passenger side of the car. Rojas was behind the wheel and Mitchell quickly climbed in the back. They drove with Picado on his cell phone.
Courtney hugged Dana.
“I’m fine,” Dana said. “Skylar, Picado, that embassy guy, they’re actually starting to tick me off.”
“Uh-oh, that’s trouble,” Courtney said.
“Please do not repeat that outside of present company,” Benny said, smiling nervously.
Fifteen
Dana was still fuming about her encounter with Detective Picado when her phone buzzed. It was Bucky Moreland, her tech genius friend from San Francisco.
For a moment she had forgotten she had reached out to him for help. But as soon as she saw his name on her phone's screen, she excitedly took the call. They exchanged quick hellos, and he got right into it.
“I found out some interesting information about Roy and Skylar,” he said, sounding mischievous. “He had filed for divorce three times in the last two years, but he stopped the divorce procedures every time. The last time he filed for divorce was just four months ago.”
“And then a month later they came down here,” Dana said.
“They’re also broke. And I mean b-r-o-k-e...those two owe money to everyone and their brother to the tune of over one hundred thousand dollars in debt, with maxed-out credit cards, and they’re being evicted for not paying rent in months.”
“Wow. No wonder they’re so eager to contest Uncle Blake’s will and come down here to stay at a five-star resort for free.”
Bucky told Dana he would email her some documents, and the two friends said goodbye. Dana thanked him for his help. After the call with Bucky, Dana filled Courtney in with all the details as she opened the email and clicked on an attachment.
“Here is the info he said he was sending,” Dana said as she sat quietly for a couple minutes, looking it over. “Yikes. I’m stressed out just thinking about living a day under the financial mess those two got themselves into,” Dana said, reading the document. “Hmm, this is interesting.”
“What did you find?” Courtney said, coming around to look over Dana’s shoulder.
“Well, since Skylar is so adamant to shout from the rooftops that I killed Roy, I thought maybe she was trying to deflect people like in that old dice under the cup to get everyone to look at the wrong cup,” Dana said.
“And you’re the wrong cup,” Courtney said.
“Exactly. She has a fat life insurance policy on Roy, so no matter how the lawsuit for this property plays out, she has a nice chunk of change coming her way now that Roy is dead.”
“How much?” Courtney asked.
“One million bucks,” Dana replied.
Courtney whistled. “That should take care of those debts and leave her with a nice cushion. What about this property dispute?”
“I guess if I lose the legal battle she gets it, but that’s a big if, according to Benny. And I already beat them in the States, so it’s not looking good here, so she’s looking at going back home empty-handed with all that debt waiting for her. Their marriage was on the rocks. But with Roy dead, she’s going back to a million dollars all for herself.”
“Sounds like a good motive to me,” Courtney said.
“Me too. Another bonus for her, by killing Roy in Costa Rica, she doesn’t have to deal with the U.S. legal system and cops,” Dana said.
Benny arrived about an hour later. Dana had emailed him the documents Bucky had sent her right away, so he was caught up on that front.
It surprised Dana that he wasn’t too keen on her snooping like that.
“It’s really best if we let the authorities do their thing. The last thing we need is for Picado to get wind of your snooping on Skylar like this and he’ll blow his top at your meddling,” Benny said.
“Meddling? I’m being accused of being a murderer, and it seems like the cops believe it enough to look into it, so why shouldn’t I be proactive?” Dana said. She knew she was coming off emotional, hurt, and angry, but she didn’t care. It’s my life, she thought.
“I’m just worried about how this might be perceived by Picado. He always has a huge chip on his shoulder, but when Americans are involved, it adds another ton or two to that chip. I wouldn’t take Picado checking you out too personally. It's what cops everywhere in the world do when someone is killed and they’re investigating. They will always start close to home, then they fan out, so he’ll be looking at everyone: the spouse, the family, friends, business dealings. Picado might be a jerk, but he is a good detective. I’m sure he’s looking at Skylar. He’ll find out about that life insurance. Heck, I’m sure he’s even looking at Courtney and me. For cops, everyone inside the family circle is a suspect until they can rule them out.”
“Dana, the last thing you want is to get Picado riled up so he puts you under that preventive detention so you can’t impede this investigation,” Courtney said.
“And not to be disrespectful about Roy’s death, but I just heard from Skylar’s lawyer and she’s pushing even harder in contesting the will now than when Roy was alive. So she is not taking time off to grieve, so we need to focus on that, first and foremost,” Benny said.
“What did her lawyer say?” Dana asked.
“Not to expect any delays or reprieves. Roy’s death changes nothing, so we proceed with the case just as before,” Benny said.
“Cold,” Courtney said.
Dana and Benny nodded in agreement when the front doorbell rang. She quickly shut down her laptop as if to hide the documents Bucky had emailed her just in case Picado was out front.
“It’s Ramón,” Benny said, looking down from the porch.
Dana welcomed Ramón inside. He was wearing his ever-present work coveralls, making Dana wonder if had more than one set. He was holding on to his field hat with both hands. Dana, Ramón, and Benny spoke in Spanish.
“What is it?” Dana asked him.
Ramón was apologetic for answering Picado’s questions about Dana.
“It’s okay, Ramón, I don’t want you to get in trouble,” Dana said.
“What did he ask you?” Benny asked.
“He asked us questions about the night that Don Roy died,” Ramón said.
“What kinds of questions?” Dana asked.
“He wanted to know if we saw or heard you or anyone else leave the house any time after ten o’clock on the night Don Roy was killed. We told him no. The car was there all night, and we didn’t hear anyone coming or leaving. Then he asked if someon
e could leave the house at night without us knowing. I said sure, through the back pathway leading towards town, but that we would have probably heard the gate open and close. But not always,” Ramón said, looking down at the white ceramic tile in the entryway's floor.
“It’s okay, Ramón. I have nothing to hide,” Dana said.
Ramón nodded and left.
Dana looked at Benny.
“Like I told you before, this is routine stuff the police do when investigating a crime.”
“Still makes me feel queasy inside. I’ve never been subjected to anything like this in my entire life. It’s unnerving. Regardless of how routine it might be to ask those types of questions, it’s scaring me,” Dana said.
Sixteen
Dana found it hard to believe it was just her fourth day in the Mariposa Beach community. She stood on her porch with a cup of coffee, looking around the property. Wally was sleeping, taking the entire couch for his tiny little body.
When Dana first arrived, she had been taken aback by what she perceived to be the over-the-top fortification of the property by Uncle Blake.
A ten-foot rock wall surrounded the property. If that wasn’t enough to dissuade intruders, they encrusted the top of the wall with shards of broken glass in case an agile burglar got any ideas of climbing the wall and jumping over it.
Then there was that unwelcoming green electric front gate that remained tightly closed at all times.
Access to Casa Verde was restricted and granted on a case-by-case basis, managed and controlled via the intercom radio setup.
But that wasn’t done because of an imminent danger, it was just how they designed homes for preventive reasons compared to the States; it was a bit much, but in Costa Rica, Casa Verde had the security offerings desired by homeowners.
Especially at Mariposa Beach, where the closest police substation was twenty minutes away.
Dana also had a second line of defense: Ramón. He seemed to always be busy outside with landscaping work.
So although at first it seemed like overkill, she appreciated the level of security Casa Verde offered her and Courtney.