Costa Rica Beach Cozy Mysteries Box Set: Books 1 to 3
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The room only measured around six hundred square feet, but its walls were designed to be bookshelves, so from the floor to the ceiling there were bookshelves made from exotic cocobolo wood.
A hooked ladder flanked the entire length of the shelf from a metal bar on the ceiling. Small wheels on the bottom of the ladder rested in a floor track that extended the entire length of the bookshelves, making it easy to slide the ladder from the right and to the left for easy access to any of the books that were jam-packed onto the shelves.
In the middle of the room was a desk where Uncle Blake and now Dana did their writing.
There was a comfy reading chair next to the desk, but Dana preferred to sit outside in the upstairs veranda so she could listen to the waves crashing yonder and look up to enjoy the views of the Pacific Ocean and the jungle tapestry, instead of feeling like a Keebler Elf in the small room.
It had taken her a while after moving in, but Dana was close to finishing cataloging the thousands of paperbacks that her uncle had stuffed on the shelves over the years.
And even though she felt like she wanted to keep some for herself, she stopped herself. A book on the shelf was just that—a book on a shelf that no one else would be able to enjoy and read, so they would be part of her bookstore’s inventory.
Dana sat on the floor with her laptop next to her as she cataloged books in a software program developed by her friend Bucky.
Bucky Moreland was Dana’s Silicon Valley friend, who was worth millions of dollars thanks to his programming skills and working for several successful tech start-ups. Eventually Bucky became what many start-up millionaires become, semi-retired and a venture capitalist for fun and money.
He became so excited about Dana’s bookstore that he wrote a bookselling software for her.
“Bucky, you didn’t have to do that,” Dana had told him when he emailed her the program.
“It’s no big deal. I used an open-source code I found on GitHub and just spiffed it up for you.”
Dana knew that meant he had taken a Ford Pinto and rebuilt it into a Ferrari.
Bucky called it Mariposa Bookz—yes, Bookz with a Z, because Silicon Valley techies loved coming up with alternative spellings for common words.
The software program even had a fancy logo of a book which would open, and a floating blue morpho butterfly, the namesake of the town, would fly out from the book’s pages, fluttering its wings as the software loaded.
It was fantastic book-inventory-management software. All Dana had to do was enter the ISBN, International Standard Book Number—the ten- or thirteen-digit number that identifies a specific book—and Bucky’s software would do its magic of looking up the ISBN, identify the book, and provide a price-comparison check based on the websites of independent bookstores, eBay, Abebooks, Barnes and Noble, and Amazon.
Not that Dana had to worry about competition. If a customer could save a few bucks ordering online, the shipping cost of getting a book sent to Mariposa Beach would make buying from her bookstore the cheaper and more efficient option, even if it was priced higher.
Dana looked around at the stack of books she wanted to get through for the day. She figured she was about eighty percent done going through and cataloging all of the books. It was a task that would be tedious even for a book lover like Dana if it weren’t for the fun she had looking at some intricate book covers and discovering some long-forgotten favorite book that took her back in time to when she had first read it.
Wally the cat curled up on the chair, napping as usual.
Dana found it was best to limit herself to one-hour book-cataloging shifts. After that, she would start to gloss over, wanting to curl up with Wally on the chair for a nap.
She had been at it for about half an hour, going over the same process, book after book. She’d pick up a book from the pile, then she would flip it over to its back cover, locate the ISBN, enter it into the software, hit the enter button, and in mere seconds, Bucky’s software did its magic. Once she had all the information, she would click on a “Compile” button and the software would add a price to that particular book, creating a price sticker for the book and also adding it to her inventory database.
Once that was done, she could then print a barcode sticker and its price tag, which she would attach to the book, rendering it ready for sale.
It was a simple process, but tedious. She looked at her inventory, and she was up to 882 books. “Now that’s a nice-sized little indie bookstore right there,” she said out loud, waking Wally from his nap. He lolled his head from the chair and gave her a quizzical look, then went back to sleep. Dana smiled. She then yawned loudly and stretched and went back at it.
After three one-hour shifts, she was ready to call it a day. “Three hours is more than enough of this,” she said, standing up. She groaned as her achy bones protested the three hours spent arched over books and typing into a laptop.
Wally had moved from the comfy chair and was sprawled over a pile of books on the floor, sleeping.
“That doesn’t even look comfortable, you crazy cat.”
Dana’s mobile phone trilled. She looked at her text messages. It was from Benny Campos, and she felt her heart beat a little faster.
He was on his way.
“I guess I can catalog a few more books while I wait for Benny,” Dana said to the cat, who did not seem interested.
She smiled as she thought of Benny’s text.
Five
Benny Campos lived in Escazú, a suburb of the Costa Rican capital city of San José, which was about a four-hour drive from Mariposa Beach.
His family had long owned a beach home located in the outskirts of town in the opposite direction from where Dana lived. But in the small town, it was less than a ten-minute drive from Benny’s home to Casa Verde.
Benny had lost his mother in his late teens, and when his father passed away ten years ago, he had inherited the house. He was an only child, so the property was all his.
Dana kept thinking how Benny was spending a lot of time coming down to Mariposa Beach. When she had first met him, he had told her he couldn’t make it down as often as he liked because of his law practice in the city and his nine-year-old daughter, but now he seemed to come down every weekend.
And why wouldn’t he? It’s beautiful and peaceful compared to the hectic and congested city, Dana would tell herself when she fantasized with the idea that perhaps he was spending more and more time at his beach house because she was living in town now.
An idea planted in her head by Mindy, who kept reminding Dana that Benny never used to spend as much time down in Mariposa Beach until she came to town.
Benny had arrived late the night before. He preferred to travel during off-peak times to avoid the maddening traffic caravan on Costa Rica’s mostly two-lane highway between Mariposa Beach and Escazú, so that meant he usually hit the road at four in the morning or late in the evening.
Ten minutes after his text to let her know he was on his way, she heard the sound of gravel under tires. He had arrived.
She figured that Ramón had opened the front gate for him, since he had been a familiar face around Casa Verde for years, first as her uncle Blake’s attorney and now as Dana’s lawyer and friend.
Dana had told him via text that he could just walk in and that she was in the library working on the store’s inventory, but she knew he didn’t like to just walk in unannounced like he owned the place, so she heard his voice coming from the front entrance of the house. “I’m here.”
“In the library,” she shouted out over her shoulder as she got to her feet. Wally dove from the pile of books he was perched on and scurried away as Benny made his way inside.
“Hey, little guy,” he managed to say as Wally bolted towards the living room. Benny watched him beeline to a couch that seemed to be one of Wally’s favorite spots to chill.
Dana hadn’t seen Benny in a week, and she couldn’t believe how fast her heart was beating in anticipation, even though she trie
d hard to ignore it.
“Hi there,” Benny said. He had two large to-go cups of coffee from Mindy’s cafe.
“Ooh, you’re the best,” she said, taking the cup of coffee.
They hugged, and he kissed her on the cheek—not that it was a romantic gesture, it was the standard way of greeting between friends and even strangers in Costa Rica.
Dana felt lightheaded in his arms, even though it was just for a second or two.
Benny had olive skin, with brown hair and eyes. Like Dana, he was thirty-five years old and divorced. He had a nine-year-old daughter that lived with her mother in San José. Her name was Beatrice. Dana had met her a couple times when she came down to spend the weekend at the beach house. She seemed like a polite, well-mannered little girl.
“Did you bring Beatrice down for the weekend?”
“Not this weekend. She had plans with her friends that trumped hanging out with her old man. A nine-year-old with plans, can you believe that?”
Dana laughed. “Well, she would probably be bored out of her mind here. I’ve been cataloging one book after the other.”
“I can see that. It looks like you made a lot of progress, though,” Benny said, looking at a bunch of books in her done pile.
“Getting there.”
“Luis Padilla called me. He said you were ready to move forward with the purchase,” Benny said, smiling.
“Well, I figured I’ve spent all this time cataloging these books, so I might as well try and sell them. Besides, it’s about time I open the darn bookstore rather than thinking about it all the time.”
They shared a laugh. Dana had been hemming and hawing about opening the bookstore for months, and Benny was usually her sounding board. She figured he was probably relieved that the should I or shouldn’t I talk would be over.
“Congratulations. Luis emailed me the paperwork. I’ll take a look at it tonight or tomorrow so you can get ready to open your bookstore,” Benny said, sounding excited.
Dana gulped.
“But before that, let me help you get that inventory ready for prime time,” Benny said, sitting on the floor next to a pile of books. Dana had been ready to call it a night, but she smiled, happy to accept the help, and she sat back down in front of a pile of books.
They worked side-by-side for about an hour, cataloging more books, when Benny suggested they move the reading chair into the living room so they could have more room for the done pile.
“Great idea.”
Benny grabbed the oversized chair.
“You want me to grab the other side?”
“I got it. It’s bulky, but it’s not that heavy. You can grab the door, though.”
Benny carried the chair towards the door, angling its legs first so it could go out the oddly shaped door, and he set it down in the living room. Wally looked up from the couch. He didn’t seem too interested in what Benny was up to.
With that out of the way, Dana rolled up the area rug where the chair had been on and she looked down at the floor, puzzled.
Benny walked back into the library and saw Dana staring down at the floor.
“Is that a trap door?” he asked, now joining her in staring at it.
“Looks that way.”
The door was flush to the wooden floor, and with the rug over it, you couldn’t tell it was under there, which was why Dana hadn’t noticed it even though she had been living in Casa Verde for months.
“You didn’t know that was there?” Dana asked.
Benny had been her uncle Blake’s attorney, and he knew the house better than she had before she moved into it.
“No. Your uncle never mentioned it. This was pretty much his only hands-off part of the house. Aside from Carmen cleaning, I don’t think anyone came in here much. Your uncle called it his Fortress of Solitude.”
Dana looked at Benny, confused.
“From Superman.” Benny blushed at his geekiness.
“Oh, yeah, that place made from ice or whatever,” Dana said.
Benny smiled. “Something like that.”
“Rodri didn’t tell you about this? He must have built it for your uncle.”
“No, he didn’t tell me about it.”
“Well, let’s see what’s in there,” Benny said, sounding excited.
He knelt down and there was a simple latch without a lock, so he unhooked it.
There was a small indentation carved into the trap door that served as its handle. Benny wrapped his fingers in it and pulled it open.
The trap door made a creaking sound like from a horror movie, causing Benny and Dana to look at each other and laugh.
“Creepy,” she said.
“Just needs some WD40,” Benny responded.
The trap door was on two hinges that propped it open. Benny stepped back so he could look down into the dark, open space below.
There were wooden steps leading down into what looked like a root cellar. Dana and Benny looked at each other, excited about what might be down there.
It was dark, so Benny used the flashlight from his iPhone and shone it down the steps, peering down below.
“Do you see anything?” Dana asked.
“There are several plastic storage bins down there. I think we just found your uncle’s storage room.”
Dana shone her own iPhone flashlight in there to get a good look.
“It’s an underground cellar like we have in California,” Dana said.
“You don’t see underground cellars and basements like this in Costa Rican homes,” Benny said as he began to make his way down the steps. It was a cramped space.
He was six feet tall, so he had to stoop low to make his way down there.
Dana stuck her head through the trap door and could tell there was only room for one person at a time, so she stayed above ground, shining the flashlight down the hole, which was fine with her. The hole was creeping her out.
After a few seconds of Benny being down there, Dana asked, “Any dead bodies down there?”
“No, just bins. Well, unless there is a body in these containers.”
Dana could just about see the grin on his face. “Creeping me out, Benny.”
He laughed. “I can’t tell what’s in these bins.”
“How about snakes, rodents, or bugs down there? That might be worse than a dead body.”
“Clear of snakes, bugs, and rodents,” Benny said, turning to look up at Dana from down below. “I’m going to open up one of these boxes.”
After about a minute of rustling around down there, he looked up the steps at Dana again and said, “Looks like stuff wrapped up neatly in plastic. I’m bringing one of these containers up.”
The container was heavy, but Benny was able to haul it up the steps. Dana grabbed one end of the container and pulled as Benny pushed from down below, until a blue plastic storage bin had firm footing up above.
Nothing too spooky, Dana thought as she looked it over.
Benny climbed up the stairs and joined Dana back in the library. He gave the container another look. “Just a storage container. Dime a dozen at Office Max,” he said.
“Too small for a dead body,” Dana said, smiling.
“Unless he placed different body parts in each container,” Benny said with a grin.
“I don’t even want to think about that!”
Benny removed the lid to the container and they both peered inside. There appeared to be several documents, each one well wrapped in plastic bubble wrap.
Benny pulled out one of the items from the box and carefully removed the shrink-wrap like a plastic surgeon removing a wraparound bandage from a patient’s face.
It took a few seconds to remove the layers of plastic and tissue paper, but eventually the contents of the careful wrapping were revealed.
“It’s a book,” Dana said.
Six
It took over twenty minutes, but in the end, Benny dragged out several plastic storage boxes from the cellar and brought them back up to the surface.
Each box was filled with books and a few comic books; each item was individually wrapped in plastic wrap.
“The level of care with which he stored these books is something. They must be very valuable,” Benny said, looking inside one of the bins.
Dana nodded in agreement.
“Let’s be very careful with these,” Dana said. She began to remove the items from one of the boxes. “I feel like we should be wearing white gloves like they do in the museums and auction houses when handling valuable items,” she said nervously as she began to pull out one book after another from the box.
“Uncle Blake never mentioned that he had expensive books down here?”
“No, he never mentioned it, which is odd, since it should have been part of his estate. If these are really valuable, I should have known,” Benny said.
“They must be valuable. Why put in all the time and effort into storing each item like he did and then hide them away in a hidden compartment he didn’t tell anyone about?”
Benny nodded in agreement.
The first book she unwrapped was F. Scott Fitzgerald’s Tender is the Night.
Dana inspected it closely, looking at the front and back cover. It looked old, but it was in excellent condition.
“This looks really old. I don’t see an ISBN on it,” she said.
“So what does that mean?” Benny asked.
“ISBNs were introduced in 1970, so this must not be a reprint of the novel, since those would have an ISBN assigned to them. I’m thinking that it must be from before 1970.”
Dana looked at the front matter. The only publishing date listed there was 1934.
“Could this be a first edition?” Dana asked nervously.
She carefully put the book down and switched over to her laptop and began to tap at it for about a minute. She found what she was looking for. She made an audible gasp, putting her hand over her mouth, embarrassed by the sound she made.