Free The Metaphysical Detective (A Riga Hayworth Paranormal Mystery) by Kirsten Weiss Page A

freaky.”  Dating was a disaster.  When men found out, they were initially fascinated.  But the strangeness eventually made them wary.
     “I’d love to take you to Vegas.  Imagine what we could do to the Strip,” he mused.
    Riga merely shook her head.  He was still in phase one: fascination.  It would end soon enough, and hopefully not before she discovered what he was after.
    His lips quirked.  “As super powers go, it’s a disappointment.  But I know you’re not going to give me cancer.  It does explain the metaphysical detective agency though.  Any other powers?”
    “I can locate money.  For some reason, checks are easiest, I suspect because the act of writing them leaves a greater psychic impression.  It’s come in handy more than once.”
     “You’re joking.”
    “Don’t worry, it has no affect on my gambling ability.  And now that people are moving away from checks to electronic banking, I’m even losing that advantage.”
    Donovan looked thoughtful.  “Anything else?”
    “Enough about me, I’m starting to bore myself.”  She’d given him enough.  She wanted to learn about him.
    “So, tell me about your current case,” he said.
    Damn.  He was determined to play the listener today.
     “Have you got a drivers license?” she asked.
    Bemused, he ambled to the living room, where last night’s trousers lay across the back of the sofa, and retrieved his wallet.  He tossed it to her, and watched while she examined his license, taking down the details.
    “You’re not very subtle,” he said.
    “At this point, why bother?”  He was in her home, had once slept in her bed, and though she was fairly certain sleep was all that had taken place in that bed, she couldn’t say why. 
    “Would you like to go to the coast?” she asked.  Donovan was involved in the mystery of Helen – she couldn’t explain where her certainty came from but it was there.  She wanted to keep him around.
    “I thought we were already there.”
    “No, the actual coast, that liminal place where land meets sea.”
    He broke into a smile.  “I’ll drive,” he said.  “And you can tell me more about that case and your secret admirer.”
     

Chapter 14: The Bishop’s Wife
    Riga took her time dressing – low-slung jeans, a white tank top, and a white knit bolero for warmth.  Anticipating wind, she tied her auburn hair in a loose pony tail, then slipped into a pair of leather sandals which showed off her movie star-red toenail polish.  Her toes, she noted, were not as perfect as Donovan’s.
    If Donovan was annoyed by the wait, he didn’t show it, his eyes lighting when she entered the room.  He hustled her downstairs, where the dog followed them to the glass door.  He howled plaintively when it became apparent he’d be left behind.  Riga hesitated.
    “Oh, go on,” Donovan said.
    She stuck her head in the entryway and asked the doorman if he’d like her to take the dog for a walk on the beach.  He agreed, delighted his pet would get a treat, and a little wistful that Riga hadn’t offered to take him as well.  He made the dog promise to behave himself.
    Riga and the dog bundled into Donovan’s car, a vintage silver Aston Martin.  She would have made a snarky remark about James Bond fantasies, but the car was too beautiful.  She surreptitiously smoothed a hand over the soft leather seat.  “What is it you do in the sin industry, exactly?”
    He revved the engine and peeled neatly into the street.  “Casinos.”
    They drove south, detouring into a wine shop.  Riga waited in the car and he emerged carrying a wicker picnic basket, which he put inside the trunk.  “No peeking.”
    They cut across the city to the Great Highway, Magic Carpet Ride blaring on the radio, and then blasted up and over the hill to drop down winding Highway 1.  The dog settled happily in Riga’s lap, panting.  She rolled the window down part way and Dog wormed its nose out.
    Donovan shifted gears as the car