by K C Ames
Dana, Courtney, and Benny sat there dumbfounded for a moment.
“Did the police catch the killer?”
“No. Not yet.” Picado and Rojas seemed annoyed and embarrassed.
“The forensic team is on it right now. He was shot with a Bersa three hundred eighty, an Argentinian pistol that is popular with local criminals,” Picado added as he brushed lint off his pants leg. “We’ll find his killer soon enough,” he added.
“So what happens now?” Dana asked.
“As far as I’m concerned, the case is closed,” Picado said, getting up from his chair.
Dana was stunned. Can it be that straightforward? She sure hoped Picado was right.
Thirty
Courtney had extended her visit by three days, so she was packing her suitcase to head back to San Francisco before she got fired.
“I’m going to miss you, kiddo,” Dana said as she lay on the bed of the guest room, petting Wally’s head as they watched Courtney pack.
“Me too. So, when are you leaving the tropics to visit me in San Francisco?”
“I have a new business to get off the ground, so realistically, it probably won’t be for a few months.”
“Makes sense. I don’t like it, but it makes sense.”
“Benny will be here soon.”
“You don’t have to tag along, Dana. You’re busy, and Benny was heading back to San José anyway, so he can drop me off at the airport.”
“I’m not missing out on seeing you off. Besides, after everything that happened, I’m looking forward to staying the night in a big city. My grand-opening day has come and gone. Another day or two won’t make a difference.”
Courtney flashed a wide smile. Dana knew she liked it when she let her hair down and stopped being uptight about self-imposed deadlines and goals.
“So why a hotel? Benny doesn’t have a guest room at his place up there?” Courtney grinned.
“He did offer his guest room, but I prefer to not make things more complicated than they need to be. Besides, he has to work in the morning. I want to hit the mall in Escazú, and the hotel is right across the street.”
Courtney looked at her disapprovingly. “How are you going to get back, then?”
“I’m already booked for tomorrow’s afternoon flight with Captain Junior,” Dana said, smiling, knowing how much Courtney hated flying in his little plane.
“He’s a nice guy. And heck, he must be a great pilot to not crash that little paper plane of his into the side of the mountain, but I’m glad we’re driving back up to the city,” Courtney said.
“Well, come back soon and I’ll pick you up so you don’t have to fly down with Captain Junior.”
The drive from Mariposa Beach to the Juan Santamaría International Airport, which was located in Alajuela, the second-largest city in Costa Rica after the capital, San José, took almost five hours because of bad traffic. The other international airport is the Daniel Oduber Quirós airport in Liberia. It’s closer but not as many flights and it would be out of Benny’s way since he was heading to San José.
The Costa Rican highway system was mostly a two-lane road which was jam-packed with cars, semi-trucks, buses, and Dana was convinced, with bat-crazy drivers on a death wish. A lot of the tico drivers were certifiable, as far as she was concerned.
At the airport, they said their goodbyes. Dana watched Courtney walk into the terminal with her luggage with tears welling up in her eyes.
Back in the Land Cruiser, Benny said, “She’s a wonderful friend.”
“She really is. It’s crazy, but I miss her already like she’s been gone a month. I don’t have any siblings, so she’s like my sister.”
“It’s a thing of beauty to have a friendship like that,” Benny said, putting the SUV into drive and pulled away from the terminal.
Dana felt a nice sense of calm wash over her until they pulled into the madness of Costa Rican traffic.
The airport wasn’t far from Escazú, but it took them almost an hour in heavy traffic to get there.
“I miss the empty streets of Mariposa Beach, potholes included,” Dana said, looking out the window.
Escazú was a suburb of San José, and it was ground zero for the expat community and the well-off. Benny grew up in the Escazú Province when it used to be a pasture for horses and cattle, which seemed hard to believe looking at the built-up gridlocked city which now teemed with tall office buildings and large homes behind high security walls or in gated communities protected by armed guards.
Buildings brimming with expensive condos and office spaces dotted the hillsides. It was also a shopping mecca with malls of all shapes and sizes scattered throughout Avenida Escazú.
“Welcome to the Beverly Hills of Costa Rica,” Benny said, smiling at the cheesy nickname given to Escazú by expats.
Dana smiled thinly.
She had been to his office before, which was located near the MultiPlaza Mall. It was a small but very nice office for his solo practice. The office building shared a common reception area and conference rooms with the other tenants—mostly lawyers and accountants. So it was perfect for him.
They drove down by the Sabana Park, San José’s version of San Francisco’s Golden Gate Park, down a long, winding road that connected to the Puente de los Anonos, a bridge over the Tiribí River that served as the old road from La Sabana to Escazú which bypassed the highway.
“It’s a toss-up, but sometimes there is less traffic and hassle this way,” Benny explained as he drove.
After crossing the bridge, he drove for another few minutes before turning off the main road to a side street, driving by what looked like a sprawling campus and golf course.
“That’s the Costa Rican Country Club. Nice, but snobby,” he explained as he drove past it.
“Looks beautiful.”
A few minutes later he drove down a steep road.
“Now this reminds me of San Francisco.”
“The way the prices keep going up in Escazú, it’s going to feel more like San Francisco,” Benny said.
He continued to drive before offering again for her to stay at his house to avoid paying for a hotel. She knew his intentions were pure, but she declined. It would be too awkward, and she would feel uncomfortable staying at his place. The sterile and impersonal surroundings of a hotel actually beckoned to her.
After about ten minutes, Benny pulled into the front lobby of the hotel.
“Well, I’ll let you get to it,” he said as he came around. He always tried to open the door for her, but she wasn’t used to that and always forgot, and then they stood there awkwardly for a moment. And it happened again as they both laughed nervously.
Dana had begun to drift into sleep when her mobile phone rang. It was almost eleven thirty at night. She looked at the caller ID and it was Bucky.
Dana thought that either he forgot that California was two hours behind of Costa Rica or he had something very important to call about.
“Hey, Bucky.”
“Hey, did I wake you?”
“Nah, I just lay down and was just starting to drift away, but I’m awake, what’s up?”
“I found a lot more information about Chris Longo, and I think it’s very important that you know as soon as possible. I know you’re a couple hours ahead time-wise, but you’ll want to hear about this, since I think that dude is quite dangerous.”
“You don’t have to worry about him hurting me. He’s dead.”
“Whoa, how?”
“According to the police, he went to the red light district, which can be quite dangerous for a drunken tourist, as you can imagine, and he was robbed, but he fought back and was killed by a mugger.”
“How awful. At least I don’t have to worry about having that guy running around under the same area code as you.”
“I just wish I knew what he was up to.”
“Well, I will provide you with some more information on the type of stuff he was usually up to, because it’s a pattern.”
Dana sat up in bed and turned on the nightstand lamp.
“Okay, what did you find out?”
“Chris Longo had quite the criminal history, which led the state to yank his PI license almost two years ago.”
“So he wasn’t even licensed?”
“Nope. He was a black market PI with a reputation for filling custom burglary jobs.”
“Custom burglary jobs, what the heck do you mean?”
“It’s fascinating murky waters that cat swam in. It’s like right out of an Elmore Leonard novel. Let’s say I want an Andy Warhol painting that’s part of a private collection. Well, I could hire Chris Longo to steal it for me. I talked to a cop in the Detroit PD, and he said that they were onto him for stealing high-end vehicles from Michigan and the Midwest, which he would then ship off to Eastern Europe and Latin America, so he was familiar with your neck of the woods. And from what I could find out, Longo’s idea of a fun vacation was a gambling junket to Las Vegas or debauchery in that seedy red light district you mentioned, not hitting the beaches of Costa Rica.”
“That’s the vibe I picked up from him. Creepy,” Dana said.
“So why was he in Costa Rica? In that little beach town of yours, no less. I don’t think he was there for the white-sand beach you keep telling me about.”
“He was very interested in my bookstore.”
“It could all be a coincidence. It’s not like you had a Picasso hanging in there, did you?”
Dana chuckled. “No, but my uncle had a very valuable collection of first-edition books which now belong to me. But he wouldn’t know about that. It’s not like I had them up on the bookshelf for sale. My friend Benny has them secured in a safe in San José.”
“You told me about those books. Weren’t you having them appraised?”
“Yes,” Dana said as the wheels were turning in her head.
“Well, I don’t mean to freak you out. I highly doubt the appraiser would be mixed up in anything that sordid,” Bucky said.
“How can we be so sure?” Dana said. “Chris Longo specialized in stealing valuable stuff on special order. I have those valuable books. The appraiser knows how valuable they are down to the penny. He knows I’m down here alone in a tiny beach town because like a dolt, I told him. Maybe he thought it was too good of an opportunity to pass up. He knows about Chris Longo, so he hires him to go down there and steal my books on his behalf. So Longo breaks into my store, but then Barry Shy walks into his burglary in progress and things spiral out of control and he ends up dead.”
“I don’t know, I guess anything is possible,” Bucky said. “What’s the book expert’s name?”
“Greyson Bay.”
“All right. I’ll pull an all-nighter if I have to, but I’m going to tear into the life of Greyson Bay starting right after I hang up the phone. I’ll call you in the morning.”
“Thanks, Bucky.”
“Be careful, Dana.”
“I will.”
Thirty-One
The next morning, Dana was still feeling creepy about her conversation about Greyson Bay with Bucky. But she decided to proceed with her day as planned. She wasn’t going to let any more bad juju get in her way, so she made a spa appointment at the hotel, where she enjoyed being pampered for an hour. She went back to her hotel room and showered, then went downstairs to the restaurant for breakfast.
After that, she did one of the most dangerous activities possible in the city: she walked across the street, dodging cars and buses to get to the mall.
At Starbucks, she ordered a coffee. It struck her that it had been months since she had been to Starbucks, since they didn’t have one in Mariposa Beach and they were not on every corner in the Guanacaste Province like they were in the big cities. The coffee was good, but Mindy’s was better.
She then spent a couple hours shopping, but it was mostly window-shopping. It dawned on her that she really didn’t need what they had for sale at the mall, since down on the beach it really was a simpler life. But it was fun to be back in the hustle and bustle of a crowded city for at least a couple hours.
She took an Uber from the mall to a small municipal airport in San José, where Captain Junior greeted her warmly. There was a couple from Missouri on the flight as well. They were staying in Nosara, but Dana told them all about Mariposa Beach.
She spoke to them about the quiet little beach community and the calm waters courtesy of the Nicoya Peninsula, Mindy’s gourmet coffee where the beans were sourced from her husband’s family’s farm and the bagels and cream cheese that were homemade from scratch. And how her used-book store would be opening in the next few days. She felt excited about heading back home. It surprised her that she was actually missing the little, weird beach town with its nosey and oddball locals.
The tourists seemed excited to drop in for a visit during their week’s stay in Nosara. Dana felt guilty for not mentioning the murder, but it was not like New York City or San Francisco talked up their murders with prospective tourists.
It was another white-knuckle flight from the capital down to the coast as the little Cessna bounced in the air like one of those spaceships on a string in Plan 9 from Outer Space. But Captain Junior got them there safely, and in forty minutes versus four to five hours in traffic. Worth the bumpy flight, Dana thought.
Benny had client work that day, but she had told him all about Bucky’s findings. He felt awful about not being able to come down with her.
“Don’t be silly,” Dana told him.
“As soon as I wrap up my client meeting and the closing I have to attend, I’ll head down,” Benny said.
“You don’t have to do that, Benny, I’m fine.”
“I don’t have to, but I want to, so I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”
Dana thanked him. She was actually excited about seeing him again so soon.
Ramón was kind enough to come pick her up at the Nosara Airport in his little pickup. They chitchatted about the good yuca roots he had dug out of the ground and chopped up with his machete and about a landscaping idea he had for a green patch by the front gate. She enjoyed talking to him about Casa Verde instead of the bookstore, Barry Shy, Chris Longo, and customized burglary jobs that made her skin crawl.
She had just gotten back home and was apologizing to Wally for being gone for the night when her phone rang. She looked at the screen. It was Bucky.
He got right into it.
“There were a few shoddy dealings in Greyson Bay’s history, that’s for sure.”
Dana felt a lump in her throat.
“A couple jams for receiving stolen property, which you would be surprised to know isn’t that uncommon for folks in his line of work dealing with collectibles. He played dumb. Claimed he had no idea they were stolen. Police couldn’t prove he knew, so they let him walk. There was also a case where three men were arrested for roughing up an old man for his very valuable baseball card collection. The police picked them up and the motley crew began to sing like a canary, and they said they were hired by none other than Chris Longo, who they said had been hired by some man in New York City who dealt in collectibles to rip off the old man from his valuable baseball cards.”
“What?”
“The name Greyson Bay didn’t come up, but what are the odds that it wasn’t him that hired Chris Longo for that job?”
“Seems he has a history of staying behind the scenes, pulling the strings for his capers,” Dana said.
“It works. I don’t see anything showing that Longo told the police about Greyson Bay, so again he emerged unscathed.”
Dana felt like she was going to throw up.
Bucky asked Dana to forward him all the emails that she had been exchanging with Greyson Bay so he could check into him even deeper. As soon as Dana recovered from the queasy feeling over trusting a man with a checkered past with her uncle’s valuable books, she emailed that information to Bucky. Then she called Benny and told him everything.
“What is Bucky hoping
to find by perusing your emails with Greyson?” Benny asked.
“I don’t know what he does or how he finds out about this stuff, but if anyone can find the proof to nail that sorry SOB, it’s Bucky.”
“Not much could be done with him in New York and you being all the way over here,” Benny said.
“That’s what had Bucky so worried. What if Greyson came down to Costa Rica with Chris Longo to rob me? Maybe he’s still down here.”
“Mariposa Azul Beach is too small. You would have seen him or someone would have noticed the new face around town. You know how that works now. The Mariposa Azul Beach grapevine would have been all over new faces to gossip about.”
Dana chuckled, knowing he was right. And she hoped he was right and that Greyson Bay was still in New York City and had been pulling the strings from there this whole time. Hopefully after hearing about what happened to Chris Longo, he would stay far away from her and her books.
But if Greyson Bay was involved, that meant he was responsible for Barry Shy’s death, since he was the one that sent Chris Longo into town. It wasn’t right that he could emerge unscathed from yet another crime, and one that ended in the murder of Barry Shy.
“They should take a look at him in the States, just in case,” Dana told Benny.
“Not sure how much traction you would get. The books weren’t stolen, and even if they were, that’s a jurisdiction headache that would need to be resolved between the two countries.”
“I would think it’s something the FBI would be interested in. Who knows what other shenanigans he’s wrapped up in.”
“I feel you would be poking a bear, Dana. The best thing is to make sure you don’t give Greyson Bay any reason to come after you.”