by K C Ames
“I do not,” Benny replied.
“I find it to be a nightmare,” Dana said.
Picado scribbled on his notepad.
“Just do your job without making innuendos about Dana,” Benny snapped.
“I am doing my job. So, Ms. Kirkpatrick, did you know the victim?”
“Yes,” Dana replied, remembering Benny’s advice that when talking to the police, the less you said, the better, keeping answers to yes and no being the ideal response.
“Did you know Mr. Shy, Mr. Campos?”
“Yes. Everyone around town knew Barry Shy.”
“Was Mr. Shy working for you or helping you with your bookstore in some capacity?”
Dana snorted with laughter, which she immediately regretted for being inappropriate, all things considered.
“Sorry. I don’t mean to laugh. But Barry Shy wasn’t exactly nice to me. As you probably know by now, he wanted to shut me down before I even opened my front door.” Oops, there goes my yes and no answers.
“Why is that?” Picado asked.
“He didn’t like new businesses coming to town. He said expats like me and the business I was opening were ruining Mariposa Beach and turning it into Rodeo Drive.”
Picado silently scribbled some more on his notebook.
“Any idea why he would be in your bookstore?”
“No. And he didn’t have permission to be there, that’s for sure, so no, I don’t know what he was doing there or how he got in. Did you figure out how he got in? My security gate out front was securely locked without signs of tampering,” Dana said.
Picado studied her for a moment in awkward silence until Detective Gabriela Rojas spoke up. “It looks like he climbed in through the back window, which was broken.”
“That window is like ten feet from the ground and has metal bars,” Dana said.
“They probably used a ladder or some other way to climb up to the window, then they cut the bars with what appears to have been a hacksaw of some sorts. We haven’t located a ladder or a hacksaw, so whoever killed Mr. Shy must have taken those items with him,” Rojas said.
“The forensic investigator team just arrived from San José, and they’ll be able to provide more details on that,” Picado said.
“That is strange. Barry had a bad reputation in town for being a loudmouth and confrontational with everybody, but he wasn’t a thief who broke into and entered a business like that,” Benny said.
“You never know what anyone is capable of,” Picado said, looking over at Dana.
What a jerk. Dana stared back at him until he looked down into his notebook and started scribbling again.
“Is the body…” Dana didn’t want to finish the question. “Is it still there?”
“Yes. Once the crime scene investigators are finished, the body will be transported to the medical examiner in San José.”
“I hate to be crass, but I have a bookstore grand opening in less than forty-eight hours. When will I be able to get back into my store?”
Picado grunted something inaudible then said, “That entire location is a crime scene, so I’m afraid it will be off limits for several days, maybe even a week or more.”
Dana closed her eyes as Benny protested, to no avail. Picado promptly cut him off.
“Your little bookstore opening is not my concern. It’s a crime scene now, and you won’t be able to access it until I tell you that you can. You’ll just have to reschedule your grand opening. I have a killer to catch,” Picado said, standing up.
“You know the drill from the last time. Don’t leave town without my permission. And don’t go into your bookstore until I release it as a crime scene. I’ll be in touch. We’ll let ourselves out,” he said as he turned around and walked towards the front door. Rojas gave Dana a sympathetic smile as she followed Picado out.
Dana and Benny stood there, taken aback by the abrupt ending to the interview.
“I know he has a really important job to do, but he just drives me crazy. What. A. Jerk,” Dana said, seething.
Fifteen
Despite everything that was going on, Dana was excited. Her best friend, Courtney Lowe, was coming for a visit from San Francisco.
It was supposed to be a surprise to celebrate the opening of the bookstore, but after Dana told her about the dead body she found inside her bookstore and how the police had put the kibosh on her grand opening, Courtney just fessed up that she was planning to show up the day before her grand opening to surprise her.
Dana was touched. “You don’t have to,” she told her over a WhatsApp video call.
“I wouldn’t have missed the opening of your store for anything,” Courtney said. “And now I’m really glad I’m going down there so you don’t have to go through this alone.”
It got her mind off the bad news, and she couldn’t help but feel excited that Courtney was coming for a visit.
Courtney Lowe had been Dana’s best friend since they met as college students at Berkeley. Courtney went into the public relations field right out of college, while Dana became a journalist.
After years of reporting for the dying print media, which meant salary freezes, the forced transformation of journalists into bloggers and social media wranglers, and the constant threat of layoffs always looming, Dana had enough, and it was Courtney who helped her find a high-paying job in public relations. Dana enjoyed the money and perks, but she felt like a fish out of water, working in the millennial hipster enclave of SoMa—South of Market—located just south of Market Street in San Francisco.
The job paid well but she hated it, so after her divorce and when she got a chance to move to Mariposa Beach, she jumped at it.
Courtney had come down with Dana on that first trip to Mariposa Beach to help her get settled in, and had been a rock for her when dealing with her cousin’s lawsuit and death.
Even though they were a thousand miles from each other, they texted every day and video called each other often.
But Dana missed seeing her friend in the flesh, so she was excited that she was coming down even if her planned surprise had been ruined and the visit would be muddled by the ongoing investigation of Barry Shy’s murder in her bookstore.
The day after finding a dead body, the police didn’t have any updates they would share with her, and her bookstore was still off limits to her.
The grand opening, which was supposed to be in twenty-four hours, was now on hold until the police were done with their investigation.
Although that was hard for Dana to deal with and it made her feel down, that all changed with the arrival of Courtney into town. It was a boost of happiness.
Dana drove up to the tiny Nosara Municipal Airport, which consisted of just one landing strip. Calling it an airport was generous. There wasn’t a control tower or anything like that, just one concrete runway and a small open-air concrete building that was called the terminal but looked more like a big bus shelter than an airport terminal.
She was looking into the sky when she saw a little single-engine airplane approach for landing. She smiled, knowing how much Courtney hated flying in Captain Junior’s puddle jumper. He made the trip from San José to Nosara three times a week.
Captain Junior landed the plane masterfully as always. He taxied down the small tarmac and stopped right in front of the terminal, killing the engine. A few moments later, the door opened as the foot ladder unfolded onto the tarmac.
Dana laughed out loud when she saw a pale-faced Courtney jump out of the airplane as if she were gasping for air.
On the ground, Courtney regained her color as she ran towards Dana, and the two friends hugged each other.
“How was the trip?” Dana asked, grinning.
“Oy. Don’t ask. I swore that I would never fly in that tin can in the sky again. I should have listened to myself and driven instead.”
“I would have picked you up in San José.”
“It was supposed to be a surprise visit, and I had already made the flight arran
gements with Captain Junior, so here I am.”
Courtney smiled, and the two friends hugged again.
“Doña Dana, how are you?” an excited Captain Junior asked as he approached, giving her a hug.
The tico culture was much more into hugging and cheek kissing than most Americans, like Dana, were comfortable with, but she was getting used to it. It was part of the culture, so she didn’t want to be rude. When in Rome, and all that.
She exchanged pleasantries for a minute with the pilot and owner of Tropic Air who was decked out in his usual captain’s uniform, down to a pair of epaulets on his shoulders and his captain’s cap. He took pride in his job and his two-plane airline.
They said goodbye to the captain, and Dana and Courtney walked elbow-to-elbow towards Big Red. A nice advantage of the rural airport was that there was no customs or immigration to go through, you just got out of the airplane and walked to your car.
Courtney laughed when she saw Dana’s Jeep. “Big Red, I’ve actually missed the little bugger.” Dana smiled, knowing that Courtney was just as afraid of her little Jeep as she was of Captain Junior’s airplane, especially when she took it off-roading.
Courtney tossed her carry-on suitcase in the back of Big Red and climbed into the passenger seat as Dana got behind the wheel.
“Jeez, Dana, what is going on down here?” Courtney asked as Dana fired up the Jeep.
“I don’t know, but first there was Roy’s murder and now Barry Shy is killed in my bookstore… people in town are going to think I bring bad luck of the worst kind.”
Dana put the Jeep in first and took off down a dirt road. She put the gear into second and then into third as she drove Big Red onto the paved road towards the coast.
It was warm and sunny, so Big Red’s soft top was rolled back so they could feel the warm wind and sun on their faces. Courtney was prepared for that, so she had put on a San Francisco Giants baseball hat on which she had to hold at times with her hand in case the wind took it off her head.
“You said on WhatsApp that the dead man was harassing you? So what was that about?”
“He was a bit odd, and that’s me being nice. His nickname in town was the Unabomber because he looked and acted like Ted Kaczynski. He lived out of town in a wooden shack without electricity, spouting hatred against technology, and he harassed just about everyone in town at one time or another. I was just his project du jour because I was new in town and was opening up the bookstore.”
Courtney bit her lip. “Yikes.”
“Oh, it gets worse. Remember that detective that investigated Roy’s murder, Jorge Picado?”
“Of course, Mr. Preventive Detention,” Courtney said, referring to the legal practice in Costa Rica where suspects could be held without being charged for months while the police investigated. Picado had threatened them both with preventive detention during the murder investigation of Dana’s cousin, which had left a lasting impression.
Just like with law enforcement, there were a lot of differences between the United States and Costa Rican legal system.
Costa Rica followed the French legal system where basically you were considered guilty until proven innocent. There was no double jeopardy, so prosecutors could keep trying to nail you over and over if they wanted. And there was no jury of your peers, so cases were decided by judges, and the police could hold you in preventive detention for months without charging you with a crime.
“Don’t tell me he’s working this case too.”
“Yup,” Dana said, flooring the accelerator.
“Okay, I know you’re upset, but slow down, please.”
Dana smiled then suddenly shifted Big Red down to its second gear and steered wide to the right in order to avoid a pothole the size of Texas.
Courtney was holding on to the passenger-side bar for dear life. “I swear that sucker was there last time. But now it’s even bigger. They really don’t fix potholes, do they?” Courtney asked.
Dana laughed. “Nope. Makes driving more interesting.”
Courtney white-knuckled the sidebar grip of the Jeep for the entire thirty-minute drive from Nosara to Mariposa Beach.
Back in Casa Verde, Dana handed Courtney a chilled coconut that had been stripped of its husk and had its top hacked off by a machete, with a bamboo straw placed into the hole. Dana had switched to the reusable bamboo straws after reading how the plastic straws that ended up in the ocean could cause great harm to marine life like dolphins.
“Oh, I missed these,” Courtney said, eagerly accepting the cold coconut and taking a large drink of the delicious sweet juice from the straw. “Mmm. The real deal. It sure beats the coconut water you get back home from a carton. And I bet this didn’t cost eight bucks a pop.”
“I could buy Don Flaudio’s daily supply of real coconuts for that amount,” Dana teased.
Don Flaudio was the old man who sold the coconuts from the back of an old, rusted pickup truck on the side of the road.
“So how are things back in San Francisco?”
“Oh, same old. The tech bros and hipsters clip-clop through a pee-stained and needle-riddled sidewalk to get their avocado toast and drip coffee.”
Dana laughed.
“You don’t miss it?”
“Well, not when you put it like that.” They both laughed out loud.
Dana would be lying if she said she didn’t miss the big-city life from time to time. And for all its big-city problems, San Francisco was a beautiful city by the bay. But she was happy in her new home. The change of pace from high speed to a crawl suited her well, which actually surprised her a lot.
“And how’s Benny?” Courtney grinned.
“Fine. You can ask him yourself when we go out to dinner tonight.”
“And…”
“And, what?”
“Don’t play coy with me, missy, when are you changing the status of your relationship with that cutie pie from friend to lover?” Courtney asked, pronouncing lover as lov-ah for dramatic effect.
“Ew, at least say boyfriend, not lover, but honestly, I haven’t had much time to think about that. I’ve been busy getting the bookstore ready, and he spends most of his time in the city with his legal practice, so it’s just best to keep things as they are. We’ve become great friends.”
“Too busy. Sure. Well, you can’t fight off that chemistry between you two forever.”
“Okay, Oprah, interview over, can we change the subject?”
“Are you really liking it down here? Like really?”
“I do. Of course there have been times when it was hard making the adjustment, being the new expat in town, and there are cultural differences that take some getting used to, but it’s been starting to feel more and more like home, and opening up my bookstore was giving me a wonderful sense of purpose. I felt like I could give back to the community, and now I don’t even know when I’ll be able to open.” Dana could feel her eyes getting watery.
“The police didn’t give a timeframe to work with?”
Dana sighed audibly. “Nope. Detective Picado was adamant it might take days or weeks. He doesn’t care about my business. And I can’t wait that long to keep my bookstore in limbo after I’ve put in time and money into it. But I come off like a jerk for being impatient about this whole situation, since a man is dead and his killer is still out there on the loose, so Picado does have an important job to do.”
“Of course,” Courtney said.
“I just wish he did it faster,” Dana said with a grin.
Sixteen
Benny arrived at the house a couple hours after Dana got back from her airport run with Courtney.
He had sent Dana a text that he was on his way. She texted him “come on up,” which meant they were chilling upstairs on the veranda.
A few minutes later, they heard the tires crunching on the gravel driveway.
Dana got up from her big, comfy patio chair and looked over the railing. She waved down at Benny and shouted, “Come on up,” repeating her tex
t message verbally.
“Come on up,” Courtney repeated in her best Mae West impression, which was actually quite terrible.
“You sound like Wally trying to cough up a hairball.”
Wally had been curled up against Dana, and had taken over her chair the moment she got up to look over the railing. He looked at her, and she swore he gave her a dirty look for the little insult.
“Ooh, Wally didn’t like that,” Courtney said, laughing.
Dana also laughed, then she plopped on her chair, giving Wally a brief warning. “Scoot over, mister.” He meowed his displeasure, jumped off the chair, and then joined Courtney on the chaise lounge.
“Traitor!” Dana hissed at Wally, then broke out laughing.
They were waiting for Benny to make his way upstairs when Dana’s phone buzzed. She looked at the screen and said with some dread in her voice, “It’s Detective Picado.” Courtney looked at her nervously as Dana took the call.
Benny arrived as she was talking to him on her phone. Courtney mouthed “Detective Picado” at him and he gave the same nervous look that Courtney had given Dana.
They spoke for several minutes. Benny and Courtney only heard Dana’s side of the conversation, which seemed to have been cut short over and over by the detective, since her side of the conversation consisted of “Yes, but… Why… I need to… Stop interrupting…”
Dana hung up the phone. Benny and Courtney’s puzzled faces were looking at her.
“He is so obnoxious,” Dana said, sounding exasperated.
“What did he want?” Benny asked.
“He wants me to go to the bookstore in order to see if anything is missing. He’s given me fifteen minutes inside. I can’t remove anything, just take a look at everything—including my book inventory—to see if anything is missing.”
“When?” Benny asked Dana.
“In one hour.”
“Whoa. Okay, I’ll go with you,” Courtney said.
“No. He was very adamant that I’m the only one allowed inside. He even mentioned you by name,” Dana said, looking at Benny.