Read Online The Metaphysical Detective (A Riga Hayworth Paranormal Mystery) by Kirsten Weiss - Free Book Online Page A

astonishment.  Riga followed the direction of her arm.  A waterspout danced far off shore.  She stared, disbelieving.  Then she gathered up the book which had fallen open upon the sand and left hurriedly.
    *****
    When she arrived in the lobby of her condo, Dog greeted her with an excited bark.  It followed her to the elevator, prancing with delight.  She scratched its neck while they waited for the elevator to arrive.  The doors slid open and the dog backed away, then sat down.
    Riga looked up in surprise.  Donovan stood waiting inside.
    “You’ve been avoiding me.”  His green-brown eyes mocked her.
    She rose, slinging her leather bag over her shoulder, unable to deny it.  “I guess I have been.”
    “Going up?”
    She nodded and joined him in the elevator.  The dog remained behind.
    Donovan followed her silently into the condo.  He removed his long woolen coat and tossed it over the back of her sofa, then made a beeline for her wine cabinet.  He stopped in front of it, admiring.  “As wine cabinets go, this one is a thing of beauty.  Did you get this in Afghanistan?”
    She gave him a long look.  “How did you know I’d been in Afghanistan?”
    He shrugged.  “I had you checked out.” 
    He ran his hand across the woodwork, its paint faded blue, then flipped open the locking mechanism and unerringly withdrew the most expensive bottle.  “Mmm...  An obscure little winery, but their 2008 Tempranillo is outstanding.”
    “You know your wine.”  She didn’t want to talk about Afghanistan.
    “Of course.” He handed her the bottle. 
    She removed the cork with a church key, poured the wine into two wide bottomed goblets.  “Who are you?”
    “I’ve told you that.”
    “No, you’ve told me your name and I haven’t had you checked out.  Yet.”  She handed him a glass.  “What do you do?  Where are you from?”
    He swirled the glass and held it up to the light.  “Vegas.  As for what I do, I’m in the sin industry.”
    She laughed.  “I hope you mean gambling.”
    “What else—?  Oh.  Yes, just gaming.  But Vegas has grown up.  Now it’s about more than gaming, it’s entertainment.  Good food, good wine, good music.  Cheers. ” He clinked glasses with her and took a sip.
    She didn’t. 
    Donovan leaned casually against the kitchen counter.  “You’re not drinking?”
    “It needs time to breathe.  And the last time I drank with you I blacked out.”
    One side of his mouth curved upward.  “Blacked out?  Come on,” he scoffed.  “You didn’t drink that much.”
    She walked past him.  In the narrow confines of her kitchen she brushed his elbow and felt another quiver of recognition.  Magic?  Or something else? 
    He followed her into the living room and chose a chair close to the fireplace.  “We should have a fire.”  He looked around and, beside a bookcase, found a basket with logs inside. 
    “Did anything… unusual happen that night?” she persisted, watching him kneel before the fireplace, stacking wood and paper.  The muscles played across his back, shifting the fabric of his clothing.  She felt a hunger surge within her and looked away.
    He drew a match across the brick hearth and lit the paper.  The fire sprang to life.  He sat back on his heels, regarding her.  “We drank.  If you had too much, you hid it well.  I brought you back here, you went to sleep.  So did I.”
    “Sleep.”
    “Just sleep,” Donovan confirmed.  “Your bed is much more comfortable than mine at the hotel, by the way.”
    “It’s a new mattress.” She gracefully lowered herself into the chair opposite him.  “I never black out.”
    “I don’t know why you would have last night.”  He made himself comfortable in the chair and stretched his well-clad legs toward the fire, wine glass dangling loosely from his finger tips.  “You’ve had an interesting international career – your own PR company, big clients.  And then you gave it all up to