by K C Ames
Dana looked around and laughed. “I don’t know how long you’ve been down here, but you don’t have to worry, my small used-book store won’t turn Ark Row into Rodeo Drive, so why don’t you chill out and leave me alone?”
“It’s not worth to argue with crazy, let’s go,” Benny said.
They left Barry there shouting his slogans alone as he waved his sign in the air.
On the drive back to Casa Verde, Dana couldn’t help but feel shaken by Barry Shy.
She’d had a rough start moving to Mariposa Beach.
Her own cousin contested the last will and testament of her uncle, who had bequeathed Casa Verde to her.
He sued her in California and then in Costa Rica. She had to deal with sleazy real estate agents and real estate developers who wanted to cash in on selling Casa Verde to Gustavo Barca, who Dana viewed as Mariposa Beach’s very own Mr. Potter and Mr. Burns rolled into one.
Then her cousin was murdered and the police had her as the prime suspect. It had been a stressful start to living in a tropical paradise.
The trauma of all that began to fade and she decided to start her very first business ever, and now she had a half-baked old coot protesting against her opening the bookstore. She really hoped that Benny was right and that Barry Shy would lose interest and go away back to being a hermit. She just hoped it was sooner rather than later.
She joked about the Unabomber manifesto, but the man even looked like the Unabomber, with his long, unkempt gray hair and beard.
Benny stayed for a beer then he went home. Dana went upstairs to her favorite spot in the house, a wraparound veranda that overlooked her property and the Pacific Ocean. It was too dark to see any of that, but she could hear the sounds of the jungle and the ocean competing for her attention.
She plopped down on her comfy chair out on the veranda with a cup of green tea and a crime novel by William Kent Krueger. She was looking forward to reading more about Cork O’Connor fighting crime in Northern Minnesota.
Wally soon joined her, jumping up to share the chair and shoving his little white furry head against her book. “Stop it, I’m reading,” Dana protested. But he didn’t care. He wanted attention, so he got it.
“You’re spoiled,” Dana said, putting down her book and petting her pushy cat as he began to purr wildly.
Eleven
The next morning, Dana was at Mindy’s coffee house when it opened.
“You’re up early,” Mindy said as she carried a tray of freshly made jalapeño bagels from the kitchen.
“Working on the bookstore, but I need some coffee and one of your delicious everything bagels with mango cream cheese.”
“Coming right up.”
Everything at Mindy’s coffee house was homemade; bagels, cream cheese, her famous pineapple empanadas, even the coffee beans she used to make her delicious coffee came from Mindy’s husband’s family farm in Tarrazú.
“I was actually going to call you yesterday, but things got hectic here,” Mindy said as she prepared her order. “There was an obnoxious man here yesterday asking a lot of questions about your bookstore. Gave me the creeps.”
“What did he look like?”
Mindy described a man who seemed to fit the description of the obnoxious man that tried to barge his way into her bookstore and had made the scene later that night at the restaurant.
Dana told him about her two encounters with that person.
“I wonder if it’s the same creep?” Mindy asked.
“What are the odds that two creepy men are so interested in my bookstore?” Dana said, taking the bag with her bagel and a cup of coffee to go.
“Be careful. It’s like he’s stalking you or something.”
“Great. A stalker and Barry Shy in my face.”
“Sorry, I heard about Barry protesting outside your store yesterday,” Mindy said.
“The man is like a pimple on your rear end. Harmless, but hard to ignore when you try to sit down,” Dana said, sighing.
“Barry Shy has been a thorn on the entire community for years. He thinks we should all eschew modern technology and live off the land,” Mindy explained.
“So he’s all Amish without the charm,” Dana said.
Dana and Mindy laughed.
“Well, go on, skedaddle, you have a grand opening in two days!”
Dana went back to work, but she hadn’t made much progress before she was interrupted.
“Are you open now?”
Dana turned around and saw the loudmouth standing there with a hangdog expression on his face. Dang it, Dana thought. She’d forgotten to lock the door, and he just walked right in.
Rodri and his nephews weren’t expected for another hour, meaning she was alone with a man who appeared to be stalking her, which made her very nervous. She looked around and saw the box cutter she had been using, and she picked it up and held it in her hand. She was behind the counter, so he couldn’t see it.
“Does it look like we’re open?” She couldn’t help being snarky to him, but then realized once again she was all alone and he was bigger and heavier than she was. She held onto the box cutter tighter and added, “Sorry, look, we open in two days, please come back then.”
“I would like to extend my apologies for the other day and that night at the restaurant. I had a few too many Cuba Libres that night and didn’t realize it until it was too late.”
“It happens, but I’m afraid I’m still not open. As you can see, I’m still putting the final touches. Come back in two days for the grand opening,” Dana said.
“But we’re both right here now. How hard is it to just let me peruse your books?”
What is wrong with this guy? Dana thought.
“It doesn’t work that way. Sorry.”
“I don’t understand why you’re being so difficult.”
“Ditto, Mister,” Dana said.
“My name is Chris Smith. I’m from Chicago.”
“Well, Mr. Smith from Chicago, come back for the grand opening if you want to look at my books.”
“Okay, here is the deal. I’m a book collector. The reason I'm so insistent is because I would like to get a crack at seeing what you have for sale before it’s available to the general public. That way I can be sure to pick up a gem or two.”
“Believe me, I don’t have any collectible gems here, just regular old used books like you would find at any used bookstore in Chicago.”
“I’ll be the judge of that,” Smith snapped.
“Now you’re making me feel uncomfortable,” Dana said, the box cutter still in her hand.
“Look, I’ll pay you a hundred dollars just to look around. Even if I don’t find anything I like, you can keep the money.”
“Not interested. I’m asking you again to please leave.”
Chris Smith didn’t make an effort to leave. He just stood there glaring at her, making Dana even more nervous as she squeezed the box cutter tight in her right hand.
“Hey, Dana, everything okay with this dude?” Big Mike said, stepping inside.
Dana felt a wave of relief at seeing Big Mike standing there dressing down Smith.
“It’s cool, Big Mike, Mr. Smith from Chicago was just leaving. Isn’t that right?” Dana said, crossing her arms over her chest, the box cutter visible to everyone now.
Chris Smith let out an exasperated breath.
“I swear I’m in the Twilight Zone. This whole town is a joke. Fine. You just lost a good customer.”
Smith turned and glared at Big Mike. “You too,” he said, and stormed off.
Dana and Big Mike watched him head down Main Street and into the pathway heading up to the luxurious Tranquil Bay Resort.
“He must be doing pretty well for himself if he’s staying up at the resort,” Big Mike said.
“Thank you, Big Mike,” Dana said, giving him a hug.
“No problem. I’ve seen that dude hanging around your shop. When I saw him come in and figured you were alone, I thought I would check in.”<
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Dana thanked him again. “He’s really persistent. Thinks I have valuable books here or something…” Dana said, trailing off into her thoughts. Hmm. There is no way he could know about the first editions. Only she, Benny, and Greyson Bay knew about those.
“Earth to Dana.” Dana snapped out of her thoughts and looked back at Big Mike, who was smiling. “Deep thought, huh?”
“Yeah, sorry. That guy just has me a little freaked out. Him and Barry Shy and his one-man protest.”
“Oh, don’t worry about Barry. He’s harmless and moves on to annoy other people quickly.”
That was what everyone said to her: “Don’t worry, he’s harmless.” It made her think of how friends and neighbors of killers usually said the same thing when describing their harmless friend, family member, or coworker who snapped and went on a killing spree.
Never in a million years did I think he could do something like that. He was so harmless.
Dana shook those thoughts from her head and chatted with Big Mike about the store’s progress, giving him a quick tour of the latest updates to the store. He was impressed with the handiwork and progress being made. After about five minutes he left and went back to his surf shop next door.
A few minutes later, Rodri arrived with one of his nephews, Mateo, and she felt much better about getting back to work and not being all alone, just in case Chris Smith or Barry Shy came around again.
She put another full day and finally Rodri was finished with his work. The place had been transformed into a beautiful, sleek, modern-looking, trendy bookstore just like she had imagined. But there were still a lot of things she needed to check off her to-do list before the grand opening, so as she drove home that night, she decided she would wake even earlier than usual tomorrow to get an early running start to her day.
She loaded the last few boxes of books into Big Read before going to bed. She was going to take a nice, long bath and read that novel that Wally wouldn’t let her read the previous night. She would have a relaxing glass of red wine then some chamomile and lavender tea, which was her favorite bedtime tea. She would get a good night’s rest, then she would be up and running at five in the morning so she could be at her bookstore by five thirty. Since Mindy’s Cafe didn’t open until seven a.m., she would have to brew coffee at home to bring along.
She crawled into bed. Wally was already there waiting for her. She set her alarm and warned Wally he would not be happy when the band Luscious Jackson would wake them up so early. She was going to have a very productive day, she thought as she drifted off to sleep.
Twelve
Dana sat on the cherry-red hood of Big Red, her feet resting on the Jeep’s front grill. She was in a daze when she heard a car driving fast and then hitting the brakes hard, parking next to Big Red.
She snapped out of her stupor and turned to see Benny’s white Toyota Land Cruiser.
The Land Cruiser shook in a rocking motion as Barry threw it into park before coming to a full stop. He jumped out of the SUV with a look of terror on him.
“Are you okay?” he said, sounding concerned.
“I’m fine. But… there’s a body inside.”
Benny looked towards the bookstore’s open door.
“In your bookstore?”
Dana nodded, saying nothing.
Benny turned to go inside.
“Don’t go in there, Benny, it’s awful. I already called the police, but it will be a while before they get here.”
Mariposa Beach was too small of a town—it was more of a village than an actual town—to have its own police force, as was the case with most of the tiny beach communities that dotted the Pacific Coast of the Guanacaste Province of Costa Rica.
Unlike the United States, where just about every town—including small towns—had its own police department or was policed by a nearby county sheriff’s department, Costa Rica’s law enforcement was set up completely different.
The country had a National Police Force known as the Fuerza Pública de Costa Rica—Public Force of Costa Rica—that had stations and substations across the country.
The closest National Police Station to Mariposa Beach was in Nicoya, a city that served as the main transportation hub to Guanacaste’s beaches and national parks, which was about an hour away.
The Fuerza Pública also had small substations, the closest one of those was the Tourism Police unit in Playa Guiones, which was about twenty minutes from Mariposa Beach.
The men and women of the Tourism Police were part of a special unit of the National Police force that focused on keeping tourists and the tourism industry in the region secure. The officers patrolled the beach towns along the coast, including Mariposa Beach, on motocross motorcycles. They were armed and went through the same National police academy as the other cops of the National Police, but since their focus was on protecting tourists, other cops teasingly referred to them as Baywatch Cops.
“I just want to check it out. Make sure that person really is dead or if we can help him,” Benny said, walking towards the bookstore.
“Trust me, he’s as dead as disco,” Dana said. Her words sent a shiver down her spine.
Benny went inside anyway. He stumbled outside a minute later; it looked like the olive complexion to his skin had been turned to an ashen pallor. He tried to speak, but he was having a difficult time.
“I told you. He’s dead.”
Benny nodded in agreement as he leaned on Big Red, wishing he hadn’t gone inside.
“Freddy will be here soon,” Dana said, referring to Freddy Sanchez, a police officer with the Tourist Police unit working out of the Guiones Beach substation. It seemed he was usually the one patrolling Mariposa Beach, although he rarely made it to town unless called to deal with something—a tourist’s rental car was broken into, someone was pickpocketed, a beach party getting too loud and too wild, a shoving match at the Giggling Dorado bar, and other usually petty crimes.
Dana just stared at her bookstore that was supposed to open in less than two days, and where there was now a dead body inside.
“Were you able to get a look at who’s in there?”
Benny nodded. “You couldn’t tell?”
“I saw feet sticking out from the counter and I hightailed it out of there.”
“Smart,” Benny said, sounding wistful.
“Well? Did you recognize the person?”
Benny nodded slowly.
“Who was it, Benny?”
Benny sighed and looked at Dana with sad eyes.
“It’s Barry Shy. He’s dead.”
“What? Barry? Are you sure?”
Benny nodded again.
“Could you tell what happened to him?”
“I didn’t look that close.”
They sat in silence for a couple minutes.
“Well, this is not the way I wanted people in the peninsula to hear about my bookstore,” Dana said. She felt guilty about thinking and saying that out loud, but it was how she felt at that moment.
Barry Shy was lying dead inside, but she was only human and couldn’t help thinking about the impact that would have on the grand opening of her bookstore. Selfish, but she had to think about that.
The next hour was a blur. Freddy Sanchez arrived in his motocross bike about twenty minutes after Benny arrived.
He went inside with his pistol drawn. He came out a few minutes later speaking into his shoulder radio, with his sidearm holstered.
He removed some yellow tape from the side pouch of his motorcycle and he put it up across Dana’s front door.
Dana’s heart sank as she watched him secure the crime scene. Her bookstore.
“Can you tell how he died?” Dana asked.
“Looks like he was shot, but it will be up to the crime scene people to determine that,” Sanchez said as he continued putting up tape.
Dana put her hand to her mouth as Benny tried to comfort her.
She watched Freddy tape up her bookstore and couldn’t help but think that in t
he next couple hours, the other merchants would be arriving to open their stores, only to be confronted with crime scene tape and a bevy of police activity as investigators worked the crime scene which was Dana’s bookstore.
“I’m going to check the back, please do not go near the taped-off area,” Officer Freddy warned as he held the big roll of yellow tape and wandered around the corner towards the back of the building.
Dana tried to hold back the tears. She heard someone calling her name. It was Mindy, who was crossing Main Street, running towards her.
“What’s going on? I got to my coffee shop and saw Freddy’s motorcycle and the tape. Are you okay?” Mindy asked.
Dana hopped off the hood of Big Red, realizing she had been sitting there like a hood ornament for almost an hour.
“I’m fine,” she said as she hugged Mindy. “It’s Barry Shy. He’s dead. Inside my bookstore.”
“What?” was all Mindy could muster.
“I found the body.” Dana began to sob.
“Oh, honey,” Mindy said, hugging her tightly. She looked at Benny, who seemed lost, not knowing what to do or say.
A minute later, Officer Freddy returned. He nodded at Mindy and checked to make sure the crime scene was intact.
“Did you find anything back there?” Benny asked.
“Mr. Shy’s three-wheel bicycle contraption is back there. Seems he got in from the back.”
“How did he get in?” Dana asked.
“He broke in.”
Benny, Mindy, and Dana exchanged puzzled looks.
“Barry was a lot of things—a pain in the rear, opinionated, rude, loud—but he wasn’t a thief,” Mindy said.
“I can’t imagine he would burglarize anyone,” Benny added.
“Maybe he broke in to sabotage my store so it wouldn’t open,” Dana said.
“So who shot him, then?” Mindy asked.
“These are all scenarios that will be addressed by the actual detectives when they arrive from Nicoya in about an hour, so I wouldn’t put too much effort into these theories. It’s best to leave that to the actual professionals who will be tasked with figuring out what happened here tonight,” Officer Freddy said.