Murder on the Riviera (13 page)

“I’m so sorry.” Herculea said, feeling the inadequacy of her words even as she spoke them.

The Secret Keeper nodded solemnly in response.  “I was living alone in Rio.  One day, I was walking down the street and saw Mathilda.  She was so beautiful, even though I could tell she was a little older than me.  I didn’t care.  I desired her, and she seemed to desire me as well.  She never told me about Pedro.  I only found out after…” The Secret Keeper’s broken voice trailed off.

“After what?” Herculea asked, feeling a wave of sadness for what the old man had endured all these years.

“Mathilda invited me one evening for dinner.  She said she would cook me a delicious meal.  No one had cooked for me since Teresa.  I thought this night could be the beginning of a new life.  I was so stupid.” The Secret Keeper slapped his hand on his thigh and pounded the armrest with his fist.

“I’ve been telling myself the same thing!  But you can’t ever blame yourself.  Evil people can deceive the most intelligent of us.  Lying is their only expertise.” Herculea felt like running over to the old man and giving him a bear hug, but she stayed in her seat.

“Thank you, my dear.  When I got there, I was shocked to see another man.  I was so stupid and asked if he was her brother!  He was Pedro.  He became so jealous and threatened to fight me.  Then, he suddenly changed his mind and offered me a goblet of red wine.  I drank it, and I will never forget that bitter taste.  Like salt and fire and smoke together with other strange things I cannot name.  But I drank it anyway.” As the Secret Keeper scrunched his face up at the memory, Herculea remembered the bitter taste of the mango juice Pedro had served her.

The Secret Keeper continued.“She didn’t even try to stop me.  I drank every drop of that poison---thinking it was just wine!  When I got home, I passed by a mirror in my living room, and I thought there was an intruder standing behind me.  Some old man I had never seen before!  I turned around, but there was no one there.  I thought I had seen a ghost.  I looked in the mirror again and saw that it was me!  I still couldn’t believe it.  I thought the wine had made me hallucinate.  So I went to bed.  Next morning, I saw the same old face in the mirror.”

The Secret Keeper clammed up suddenly, and Herculea did not press him to elaborate.  The nightmare he had just shared made her blood curdle, and she looked down at the floor helplessly.

The Secret Keeper seemed to have a rein over his emotions as he resumed his story. “I went to many doctors and spiritual healers, but no one could help me. No one knew that Pedro put poison into the elixir to make me not only immortal, but also old!  This is how I have lived ever since.” A fresh onslaught of tears burned the Secret Keeper’s eyes, and his emotions once again rose to the surface.

Herculea was silent for a few moments, having trouble absorbing the horrific tale he had just conveyed.  As she contemplated his words, she realized that one detail was missing from his account.

“Secret Keeper, I have only one question.  How did you learn what had happened to you?” Herculea posed the question as gently as she could.

“One day, I was at the library.  I probably looked at every book on every shelf trying to find answers.  What I found was
The Immortality Abyss
.” The Secret Keeper’s mouth unveiled a vivid smile. “It was like some good spirit left it there just for me.  You see, I couldn’t leave it in the library.  I am not a thief, but I had to take that book.  My life depended on it, and it still does.  I will show you the book in a moment, but first I want to tell you what you must do.”

“Yes, please, could you explain the verse about drinking the antidote and touching the Golden Orca?” Herculea asked eagerly.

“Yes, the Golden Orca is your friend.  The whale will guide you to more secrets you need to learn.  You will touch the orca’s back and drink the same elixir Pedro gave you…except that you must mix it with sea water. This will reverse the immortality curse on both of us, and I will be young again!” The Secret Keeper revealed Herculea’s mission with shining eyes.

“It sounds so complicated.  How will I even find the Golden Orca?”

“I will show you.” The Secret Keeper rose from his chair with minor difficulty and walked over to the bookshelf.  “My friends,” the Secret Keeper indicated, making a sweeping motion near the books.  “They have kept me company for my whole life.  But only one of them is priceless.”

The Secret Keeper blew on the dusty cover of the precious book and handed it to Herculea. She flipped through it thoughtfully.  It seemed to contain the same information, verbatim, that Pedro’s copy had.  The only difference was that a small piece of paper was folded inside.  It was a detailed map in tiny, almost illegible lettering, along with a few verses about how to channel the Golden Orca’s power.

“That paper was tucked inside the book when I found it at the library.  It has directions to the Island of Vinova.  Like I said, a good spirit put them there.” The Secret Keeper nodded his head confidently.

“Or an evil conniver who wanted to lure someone into a trap.” Kent’s alternative explanation rattled the old man.

“No!  That is not possible.” The Secret Keeper’s arm began to shake as he spoke.

Herculea knew that Kent, ever the realist, could be absolutely right.  But she couldn’t make a predetermination as to whether a “good spirit” as the Secret Keeper put it, or some evil force, had stuck the directions and map into the book.  The only way to find out was to take that map all the way to the Island of Vinova and find the Golden Orca.

Chapter 9

The sunset was a flaming crimson ball splashing over the mountains of Rio de Janeiro.  The sky was ablaze with every mile of that setting sun, whose fire bled out into the atmosphere like a gaping wound.

Herculea sat in the taxi with the map and directions securely zippered in her purse.  On her right side, Kent sat with a grim expression on his face.  On her left side sat the Secret Keeper, who had insisted on taking this journey with them.  At his cottage that afternoon, the Secret Keeper had nearly had to beg them to come along.  Both Kent and Herculea viewed the old man’s presence as a liability.  He was not half as spry as the young man he had been when this heinous spell was cast.  Indeed, the Secret Keeper appeared frail and tired.  But he had perked up like a pot of freshly brewed coffee when he told them how much it would mean to him to come along.

“Think how many years I have waited for this!  I want to be on that island and look in Mathilda’s eyes when I get my youth and mortality back!  I want her to know that she has not won.  Besides, you may need my Portuguese skills,” the Secret Keeper had persuaded, and Herculea could not argue with the last part.

On the long journey to the Island of Vinova, they would pass through remote areas of Brazil, regions where English was not likely understood.  Plus, Herculea felt passionately that the Secret Keeper deserved the firsthand satisfaction of victory after nearly a century of suffering and isolation.

The taxi chugged along over bumpy, poorly paved roads.  The map contained precise directions with measurements of latitude and longitude.  They would surely find the island.  That was a foregone conclusion.  But, after reaching the destination, the events to follow were wholly unpredictable.

Herculea glanced over at Kent, admiring his strong profile.  She had never sat this close to him before and was acutely aware of their hips fused together on the hot leather seat.  Still fatigued and without a good night’s sleep since her last night in San Francisco, Herculea wanted to rest her head on Kent’s chest.  She imagined the soothing feel of his hand caressing her hair, lulling her into sleep.  Kent’s eyes met hers suddenly, and there was a fierceness in his expression that suggested he was having similar thoughts.

Inconveniently, the old man launched into a coughing fit, placing a hand over his chest as he heaved for air.  Herculea smirked comically for a moment until the coughs became more raspy, and the old man’s throat constricted painfully.  Instinctively, Herculea slapped him on the back as he leaned forward in his seat gasping for oxygen.

“Are you okay?” Herculea asked.

The Secret Keeper caught his breath before answering in a hoarse voice.  “Yes, dear.  Don’t worry.  Just a tickle in my throat.”
              Clearly irritated by the man’s intrusive presence, Kent rolled his eyes before affirming, “I don’t think you’re able enough to take this trip.  We’re only sitting in a taxi, and you’re practically choking to death.  How will you deal with what lies ahead?”

Taken aback, The Secret Keeper bristled.  “I said it was just a tickle.  So it was just a tickle.  Don’t underestimate me, boy.  I’ve been around a long time.  I didn’t last this long from being weak.”

The old man has a point
, Herculea thought.  It was remarkable how the Secret Keeper had survived a lifetime in such a decrepit body.  He was so tall, his limbs long and lean, with no meat on the bones at all.  The trio continued to ride in semi-awkward silence along the startlingly beautiful Brazilian coastline.  The ocean became more crystalline with every mile south they traveled.  Sands were as white as sugar cane, and the sky was sheer aquamarine.

Herculea tried to pretend that she was on a tourist bus, just like any other privileged mortal.  This was not a grave journey to challenge the crude destiny someone else had chosen for her, but rather a lighthearted prance through South America.  Next, Herculea imagined, the tour bus would be heading west and crossing over into her homeland, Peru.  There, she would leave the bus behind and meet her mother at a café in Lima where they would sit outside in the baking sun and sip ice cream sodas.

Herculea’s heart ached as she forced herself back to reality.  A flashback of Pedro hovering over her body drifted into her mind.  As though it were pesky dust on her kitchen floor, Herculea quickly swept the vision away.  The most intense sexual experience of her life had somehow stemmed from the cruelest prank that could be played on a person.  Herculea’s lips tightened as she wondered where Pedro was now.  How she would relish the taste of victory over her callous nemesis.

*****

The last of the wooden planks was nailed securely to the door.  Pedro dropped the hammer to the ground, panting from exertion.  His empty house in Brazil was completely boarded up, impenetrable.  Pouring the contents of a water bottle over his head, Pedro looked towards the blindingly blue sky.  He had spent all morning preparing for his departure, and now, at the sweltering peak of the afternoon, he would leave this house behind forever.  The memories of what he had done to Herculea were painful beyond all bearing.  He felt a remorse such as he had never known, a regret that manifested as physical pain in his joints and muscles.

“Why?!” He shouted in a cracked voice.

His only reply was the reverberation of his own voice, a sound so pitiful he did not immediately recognize it.  Why hadn’t he taken things more slowly with Herculea and given her the chance to learn about his immortality first?  He should have wooed her and allowed her to make the choice herself.  Now, his entire life stood in jeopardy.  Herculea had fled with
The Immortality Abyss
, and if she had read it, then he was doomed.  If she had reached the Secret Keeper, a shriveling old man doubtlessly ravenous to reclaim his stolen youth, then Pedro ran the risk of staying immortal, but not as he was now.  No, if Herculea joined forces with the Secret Keeper, Pedro would be ever trapped in the deteriorating body of an old man.

Pedro cringed to think of his earlier arrogant text message to her.  It had just been a ruse.  He was not confident of anything.  He was terrified to his very core.  Out of the shadows, one of the stray cats meowed and rubbed flirtatiously against his calf.

Looking down at the feline, Pedro shook his head uselessly.  “Oh, why can’t I have nine lives that come to an end instead of one that will never end?!”

His voice sounded pathetic to his own ears, and Pedro’s signature hard shell began to form around his heart again.  He was not vanquished, nor would he allow himself to be.  Ever.  The Silver Goddess had already wrought enough damage by banishing him from the island.  If they had never parted, there would have been no need to scour the globe searching for a replacement mate for the long road of eternity.  And then the Secret Keeper would be harmlessly locked away in his lonely cottage, an old man forever.

“NO!” Pedro bellowed.

In a furious instant, Pedro resolved to crash upon the shores leading to the Island of Vinova.  Though he could not set foot on Vinova, he could land near the water, waiting patiently for Herculea and the Secret Keeper to arrive.  Once he found them, it would be easy to tackle the frail old man and drag him onto his jet.  Yes, he would kidnap the old man and bring him back to the cottage where he belonged.  And board it up.  Tightly.  Then, he would return to claim Herculea. Pedro rubbed his hands together in anticipation of his victory.

Herculea would have to learn to love him.  The eternity of luxury and jet setting he had to offer would entice any woman.  He would never allow her to reverse her immortality.  His plan was flawless.  Pedro chuckled under his breath and wrung his hands together listlessly.  All he needed to do was stop them before they got to the island.  With his lavish wealth, procured in a host of unsavory ways over the decades, that shouldn’t be hard to do at all.  His jet would land by nightfall.