Free Murder on the Riviera by Anisa Claire West

rashly.  Suddenly, Herculea realized that after one encounter at the gym, a phone conversation, and the beginning of a date, she still knew nothing about Pedro.  What kind of job did he have?  What part of San Francisco did he live in?  She parted her lips to launch an inquiry when he suddenly spoke again.
    “Here we are,” he announced in his richly toned Argentinian accent.
    Herculea looked up and saw a palatial building in front of them.  Sitting on an enormous property dotted with trees strung with lights, the building was enrobed in soft pastel colors.  It looked like a magical place, and she was sure it must be on the outskirts of San Francisco.  She had never seen anything like it in the city.  Before she could say anything, Pedro was opening the passenger door and escorting her out of the car in his gentlemanly yet overtly flirtatious way.  She allowed him to lead her by the hand to the ostentatious gold inlaid entrance, situated just beyond a marble pathway.
    Inside, to the right was a dining room draped in expensive crystal chandeliers, and to the left was a ballroom filled with couples dancing and a live band on stage.
    “What a beautiful place,” she breathed in amazement.  “Where are we?”
    “We are here,” Pedro replied cryptically, encircling her waist with his vice-like arm and strolling with her towards the ballroom.  “Are you ready to tango, Herculea?”
    His words were barely audible over the vibrating sounds emanating from the musicians, and she merely nodded her head, feeling slightly shaky.  He enrobed her in his powerful arms, gliding onto the center of the dance floor with a commanding hand pressed against the small of her back.  He was an excellent dancer, and she let him lead.  As they moved in instinctive rhythm with the music, his eyes never left hers.  Elegantly, he dipped her, maintaining the pulsating contact of their bodies.  She felt both delicate and sultry as her red lace skirt swayed with the music, and her scarlet high heels tapped alongside Pedro’s large black dress shoes.
    Hours later, bathed in sweat and sore from head to toe, they finally sat down to dinner.  Pedro ordered a bottle of Chilean wine without consulting Herculea.  He also ordered a selection of appetizers before she had a chance to look at the menu.
    “I promise you will love everything.” He winked at her.
    She shut her menu and gave him a tight smile.  This sort of domineering treatment was not what she was used to.
    “Do you travel much?” She asked, trying to get him to share any bit of information about his life.
    “All the time,” he replied tersely.  “You?”
    Ignoring his curt reply, Herculea said, “Yes.  Actually, next week I’m going to Brazil for work.”
    “What will you do in Brazil?” Pedro asked with mild interest.
    “A colleague and I are going to do research for an article on capoeira.”
    “How boring.  I know something more exciting you could do in Brazil.” His eyes blazed mischievously.
    “Let me guess.  Dance the samba?” Herculea retorted sarcastically.
    “No,” Pedro replied without humor.  “No.  You said you are a cultural anthropologist, right?  And you like to do research.  Well, I think you should research the Silver Goddess.”
    “I’m sorry.  The what?” Herculea asked.
    “The Silver Goddess is immortal and lives on the Island of Vinova.  No mortal person has ever gone to her island.  She is a very private person.”
    As Pedro spoke, Herculea wondered if he had already had a glass of wine earlier in the evening.  He was spewing madness, and she wasn’t amused.
    “I don’t know why you’re telling me such a crazy story, but…”
    Pedro cut her off.  “It’s not a story.  Not a legend.  It’s the truth.  The Silver Goddess drank an elixir that gave her eternal life.  A special blend of herbs and spices---and red wine.  It’s all written in a book called The Immortality Abyss .  You could be the first to research