As expected, Rico came through and got both Sonia and himself on the list for Pedro Ospina's party. The event was where dressing to impress wasn't an option. And of course, Ricardo conveyed this information to Detective Mendoza over the phone. Apparently, she felt nothing she'd packed was up to the task, so she had set aside a significant portion of her day for shopping purposes.

Arriving together at the suspect's party was quite simply out of the question. To further preserve the clandestine appearance of their connection, Rico told his friend that Vera Acosta, a.k.a. Detective Mendoza was the best friend of a woman he needed to impress. Still, none of that prevented Ricardo from wondering what Miss Mendoza would be wearing that night.

The last time Ricardo had the privilege to visit Guatapé was when he was seventeen. It was one of those impromptu trips teenagers often make. Someone's parents were gone for the weekend, leaving the car completely at the mercy of Rico and his compas (bros). And they didn't waste the opportunity. They arrived as the golden sunset was beginning to spill its light on the town and lake. Anyone who's laid eyes on Guatapé is automatically enraptured by a town painted in a kaleidoscope of bright colours. It was hard to believe such a place was just an hour and change from Medellín's bustling cityscape.

On this occasion, the roaming hills and lake dotted with a hundred verdant islands were at their captivating best. For a moment, Rico had forgotten he was in town to investigate a murder. The lustre of the daydream faded as soon as he pulled up to the Mediterranea inspired villa with a choice view of the lake. Ricardo gave himself one last check in the mirror before walking up to the gate, where security guards armed with machine guns awaited him.

Rico gave his name and was admitted after a quick pat down. Music emanating from the house had most of the guests clustered in the front yard, swaying to the beat. Waiters carrying drink trays buzzed here and there. But unfortunately, the host was nowhere in sight.

Guess I'm going in. I hope Sonia's close.

He grabbed a beer from a passing waitress before walking into the house. Inside, the vibe was much the same: people, dancing, drinks and food on side tables. More than a few of the women stopped to look Ricardo up and down; he pretended not to notice. Many of the walls were decorated with paintings Rico had seen in some of the galleries in the city. Unlike him, they didn't have to convince art directors with paint brushes up their asses to take their work. Which, of course, meant their art came with a hefty price tag.

"You must be Sergio's friend," said a voice behind Rico.

He turned around and flashed a friendly smile. "Guilty as charged." Rico extended his arm for a handshake.

"Pedro, nice to meet you." He shook Rico's hand. "It's Ricardo, right?"

"Yes, and likewise. I couldn't help admiring this painting," he tilted his head towards it. "It's more abstract than I like, but it's interesting nonetheless."

Pedro smiled. "Sergio mentioned you're an artist yourself, is that right?"

"For once he's not lying."

"His reputation certainly precedes him." Pedro chuckled. "Have you had a chance to look around?"

"Not much, unfortunately."

"We can fix that. Walk with me."

They left the air-conditioned interior of the house and made their way towards the back of the house. An infinity pool sat on one side of the backyard. Over on the right was an outdoor kitchen area complete with a grill and crowned by a pergola. To the left, a large patio covered most of the ground, leaving only a small section of well-manicured grass visible. And not unlike the rest of the place, that area too was packed with people milling about.

"You play pool?" Pedro asked.

"I'm a little rusty, but I still remember that the cue ball's the white one." Rico grinned and sipped his beer.

"Can't ask for more than that, I guess," Pedro laughed. "This way."

"Sure."

Rico followed and scanned the crowd.

Where are you?

"Looking for anyone in particular." Pedro caught him in a momentary daze.

Ricardo shook his head. "Just a girl I saw when I arrived, but she's not back here."

"I'm sure she'll show up again. No one ever leaves my parties early." He winked.

They walked through the house and out a sliding glass door that led to a small patio under a balcony. It featured a breathtaking view of the lake with El Peñol, the giant rock formation that gave the Guatapé much of its fame, looming in the distance.

"I don't think I'd ever tire of waking up this," Rico said.

"That's why I bought this place: for that view." Pedro made a frame with his fingers. "Host breaks first?"

"Of course; I'll rack up."

Rico was hoping for solids on the break, but Pedro did him no such favour. The clean-shaven host with slicked back hair pocketed three balls; two were solids. So it came as no surprise when Mr. Ospina went with the more advantageous choice.

After pocketing another couple shots with skilled accuracy, Pedro stood up and reached for his beer to have a drink.

"I hope you don't find this odd," he began, "but I looked up your work after Sergio told me you were a painter. Your name didn't ring a bell, but after seeing what you can do with a brush, I'm surprised. You're talented. And I don't know why I didn't know who you were before yesterday."

"Thanks, I guess."

"I'm serious. But I know what the underbelly of the art world's like. Talent is a small part of the equation. Politics and favouritism are the other half."

Rico brought the bottle up to his lips then replied, "Unfortunately, I have to agree."

"With your skills, you should be able to have a place like this. Without having to kiss the right asses."

"Cheers to that."

They both took swings of their beers.

"Wanna game the system?" Pedro asked before sinking another shot.

"I don't follow."

"Well, maybe I know a shortcut to getting all this." He gestured to the house.

Rico leaned forward. "I'm listening."

"Cariño," called a voice from inside the house. Both men turned toward the sound and moments later, a stunning blonde in a tight black dress stepped onto the patio.

"There you are," she said and walked over to Pedro and kissed him deeply.

"Ricardo, this is my other half, Vicky. Love, this is my new friend."

"Encantado." Rico waved.

"No, no." Vicky walked over. "Greet me properly."

"Perdón." He stepped forward and kissed her twice; once on each cheek.

"There we go." She smiled. "I need to borrow him for a minute," Vicky whispered before turning to Pedro. "There's something you need to deal with now."

"Right." He hastily set the cue stick on the table. "I'm sorry, Ricardo. I'll be back in a minute or so. Walk around a bit; I'll find you."

And with that, Pedro and Vicky disappeared through the doorway. Figuring it was an excellent opportunity to locate Sonia, Rico went inside and navigated his way around the dancefloor. He was just about to go towards the front door when a warm hand grabbed his arm and squeezed it.

Thinking it was someone he didn't know, Rico was ready to give them a lesson in asking before touching. But he froze instead. Sonia stood in front of him in a skin-fitted, yellow dress that sent a shock wave through his body. He was about to speak when the detective pulled him towards the dance floor and pressed that stunning figure against him.

For a moment, Rico thought he was either dreaming or his drink got spiked. But the phrase "dance with me," uttered from those tempting, red lips was all the confirmation he needed. Her hands squeezed his neck; he caressed her waist. Sonia's body rolled against Rico's like she was an ocean wave and he was the shore. The bachata beat filling his ears provided the perfect rhythm for that kind of close contact.

Sonia tugged on his neck, urging his lips down towards hers. But at the last second, she slid her cheek against his and whispered: "We need to leave."

You're killing me here, Miss Mendoza. I finally have you in my arms.

"Rico," she said, "we need to go now."

"Why? I haven't gotten Pedro to tell me what he knows."

"That's unfortunate, but we're out of time. Over by the stairs is Don Moncho: one of Bogotá's most wanted drug lords. If he sees my face, then I'm leaving here in a body bag."

A chill ran down his spine. "Let's go."

"Slowly," she said. "Don't make it seem rushed."

Ice gradually replaced the blood in Ricardo's fingers as he held Sonia's hand. They weaved through the crowd, keeping their heads down until they got outside. Rico then put his arm around her waist and walked towards the gate. The guards stepped aside, and they passed a long line of people waiting to get in.

As the music grew fainter, the pace of Rico's heart also slowed and returned to a normal state. Without thinking, he threw his arms around Sonia and gripped her.

"Rico, we're not in the clear yet."

"I know, sorry."

"It's okay." She squeezed his arm.

"I'll walk you to your car and wait for you to leave. Just keep going. I'll call you once I'm on the highway."

"But—"

"I'll meet you at the apartment. I promise." He cut her off. "Now please go."

She nodded and climbed in. Rico closed the door and waited for her car to disappear down the road.

As he turned to walk to his car, Ricardo came face to face with Don Moncho.