The Alchemical Detective (Riga Hayworth) (16 page)

Riga hurried inside and pulled the door shut behind her.  A square table with a blue cloth spangled with gold stars stood in the center of the cramped room.  A pair of empty tea cups on matching saucers were upon the table.  Two wooden seats had been set into the wall on hinges, saving space.  Lily flipped one down and sat upon it, gesturing for Riga to do the same.  Riga sat, looking around.  To her left, a narrow counter.  Three coat hooks hung on the wall behind Riga, and a long silvery parka hung from one.  Riga removed her charcoal-colored pea coat, draping it on the empty hook beside it.

On the wall behind Lily hung two shelves lined with metal tea tins.  Riga glanced up at the ceiling.  Drying herbs and ornaments shaped as faeries with dainty wings hung from the wooden beams.  Riga shuddered. 

“I’m sorry I snapped at you,” Lily said.  “This place is quick to heat up but it’s quick to cool down too.”

Riga raised an eyebrow, tugging off her gloves, finger by finger.  “That was snapping?  You’re a real tyrant.”

Lily blushed.  “Would you like some tea?”

“Sure.  I like what you’ve done with the place.”

“Isn’t it precious?  I’m leasing it for a song.” Lily stood and sidled through the narrow walkway to the counter, where a hot plate and pot sat.  She poured the contents into a floral teapot.  “I’ve been feeling kind of down lately.  I guess we all have.  Would you like some kick ass?”

Riga glanced up, startled.  “What?”

“Kick Ass tea.  I have Comfort tea for mourning, but sometimes, you just want to snap out of it and kick some ass.  Would you prefer the Comfort?”

 “No.” Riga’s lips curved into a smile.  “Kick Ass sounds good.”

While Lily poured the tea and resettled herself at the table, Riga pulled a yellow pad from her satchel. 

“I’m not a Wiccan,” Riga said, “so I did some research on Wiccan memorial ceremonies online.  What did you have in mind?”

Lily’s gaze traveled to the strange, twisted cross that lay in the hollow of Riga’s neck.  “I am a Wiccan but I’ve never been to a Wiccan memorial and I didn’t do any research online.  What did you find?”

By the end of the hour, the two had drafted a ceremony Lily was reasonably pleased with.  Riga was pleased too; she’d enjoyed the research. 

“We’ll need to run this by the others,” Lily said.  “But it’s a start.”

Riga nodded, taking a sip of her tea.  It had cooled but it still had a bite, with peppermint, licorice and an herb Riga couldn’t identify.  She turned the delicate teacup in her palms. 

“Lily, I need your help with something.”  Most people, Riga believed, liked to help.  Riga wanted to think this was because they were inherently good, but suspected feeling good about themselves was the motivating factor and that was fine by her.

Lily looked up from the yellow pad.  Her skin was pink from the warmth of the space heater. 

“There’s been some negative attention on the local metaphysical workers.”  That was the understatement of the year, Riga thought.  “Someone killed Tara’s cat yesterday.”

Lily nodded.  “I know.  Last night Tara called and told me about her cat.”

“Audrey said you hadn’t experienced anything.  Is that true?”

Lily hunched her shoulders.  “Sarah’s dead.  Nothing else much matters, after that.”  She looked through the window behind Riga.  Snow had begun to fall, a hesitant scattering of flakes.  “And then there’s that horrible preacher who’s been bothering Tara and Audrey.  It feels like a dark net, pulling tighter and tighter around us.”

“But have you experienced any incidents, personally?” Riga asked.

“No.  Nothing, thank goddess.  Has anything happened to you?”

“I found Lynn Chen’s body yesterday.”

Lily clapped her hands to her mouth, her blue eyes widening with horror.  She lowered them slowly to her lap.  “What?  No.  That’s not possible.  Tara didn’t say!  Did she know?” 

“I think she’s having a hard time with it.  And I think the same person who killed Sarah, killed Lynn, and I need your help stopping him.”

Lily blinked rapidly, swallowed.  “Okay.  I get it.  I’d rather not, but I get it.  What do you need?”

“Tell me everything you know about Lynn.”

Lily coiled a lock of hair around one finger.  “Lynn was second generation Chinese.  She speaks Mandarin fluently and plays – played – the violin.  I think her parents wanted her to be a doctor.  She went to med school but dropped out and went to study acupuncture in China instead, then Feng Shui.”

“Was she seeing anyone?”  Riga tried to cross her legs and her knee struck a table leg.  She winced, put her leg down.

“Yes.  He was married.  I don’t know his name but he worked as a financial planner or advisor or something at the Truckee Bank.  Lynn wouldn’t have told me that much, but I had to get some money from the ATM there once when I was with her, and she made a joke about withdrawals.  I think she regretted it afterward.  She made me promise not to say anything.”

Lily looked up and to the right, at the drying herbs.  “Lynn was sweet.  Maybe a little too trusting.  I don’t think she should have gotten involved with a married man – I’m not being judgmental.  I just don’t think she had the right temperament for it.”  She looked directly at Riga.  “Lynn believed in him.  You know what I mean?”

Riga nodded. 

“This is your case now, isn’t it Riga?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m glad, I think.  The police here are pretty good, in spite of what you might have heard.  But I’ll feel better with someone on the case who gets us, our world.”  She looked away, uncomfortable.  “Tara told me that she felt you were pushing her last night about the cat, the danger.”

“But she didn’t tell you about Lynn’s death.”

Lily frowned.  “No,” she said slowly.  “That does seem strange.  But I think she was feeling raw after what happened to Pyewacket.  And she’s been going through some stuff.  Her business has really fallen off since the Reverend’s campaign.  It’s all she’s got.  She’s not going to abandon it.”

“That explains why my suggestion Tara get out of town went over like a lead balloon.  But I think she’s making a mistake.  You all need to be careful, not just Tara.”

“Things are very clear cut for you, aren’t they?” Lily said gently.  “But we don’t all feel that kind of certainty.”

Riga stood.  “Sometimes when you’re in the thick of things, it’s hard to see clearly what’s going on.  Maybe I just have an outsider’s perspective.  Thanks for the tea.” 

The woman didn’t rise as Riga collected her pea coat, slung it on in the cramped room. 

There was a gentle knock on the door and it swung inward, bumping Riga from behind.  She turned, one arm in her coat.

Donovan’s cousin, Reuben stood in the doorway and in his suit and tie his presence there seemed jarring – a culture clash between corporate and cottage.   Though his frame was slight, in that narrow space his tall figure blocked the silvery light.  He looked from one woman to the other. 

“What are you doing here?” Riga and Reuben said simultaneously.

His face darkened.  “Are you following me, Miss Hayworth?” Flakes of snow had settled atop his raven black fair, and he brushed them away with a quick, jerky motion.

“I got here first!  How can I be following you?”

“Riga was just helping me plan a memorial service,” Lily said soothingly.

His face twisted in a sneer, making him look less and less like Donovan.  “Miss Hayworth is helping herself into all sorts of places.”

Riga shrugged her other arm into the jacket and squared to face him.  “What exactly do you mean by that?” She picked up her bag, slung it over one shoulder.

“The penthouse suite, my cousin’s bed…  You’re a very helpful woman, aren’t you?”

Riga’s fists clenched.  She jammed them into her pockets to keep from slugging him.  “Take it up with Donovan.  I’m not interested in listening.”

“Be careful, Miss Hayworth. You’re helping yourself to some very dangerous territory.”

Chapter 17: New Dawn

Seething, Riga drove into the lot of a wood-timbered mini-mall, and pulled into a parking spot in front of Audrey’s shop window.  The shop was dark and a “Closed” sign hung in the window, partially obscured by a white scrawl of graffiti.  She glanced into her rear view mirror and saw Cesar’s SUV glide down the aisle behind her. 

From her car, she watched two children in brightly colored parkas race down the walk.  They shrieked with laughter, skidding on the ice, and their mother called after them to watch out, her tone weary, her cautions drowned out by their giggles.  Riga felt a pang, wondered what her life would have been like if she’d trodden that path.  But she’d made her choices. 

Her cell phone rang and she fumbled with the earpiece she kept in the cup holder of her car.  “Hello?”

“Hi,” Donovan rumbled. 

Riga felt herself warm inside.  “Where are you?”

“Over Colorado.  You’d love the view from thirty thousand feet.  The mountains are covered in snow and blue shadows.”

“It sounds beautiful.”

“It would be better with you here.  How’s your day going?”

She wouldn’t tell him about Reuben now.  She was too angry, and it would only infuriate him.  “I’m playing a metaphysical detective today,” she said lightly, “and my next scene is about to begin.”

“I’m not sure I want to know what you’re talking about.”

“Lunch with Audrey, one of the Tea and Tarot ladies.”

“How innocent sounding.  Why am I suddenly suspicious?”

Riga laughed.  “It is innocent.  Really.”

“Riga, when I return, there’s something we need to talk a—”

The line went dead and Riga exclaimed, exasperated.  Talk to her about what?  Why hadn’t he talked to her about it before he left?  She waited, hoping for a call back.  Nothing.  She tried calling Donovan.  There was a click and a beep and the line went dead.  She grimaced, then grabbed her bag and put the phone in the side pocket, where she’d be able to grab it quickly.

She checked her watch.  She was early for their lunch appointment so she went inside the bookstore next door to kill time.  Cesar followed her inside, wandering the aisles, and thumbing through a book about the special forces in Iraq.  Riga scanned the back cover of a new hardback by a mystery author Brigitte liked.  The writing was too violent for Riga’s tastes, but the gargoyle had no such qualms. 

She bought the book, then caught Cesar’s eye and left the store.  Audrey’s shop was lit, the sign turned to “Open,” and she walked inside.

A string of bells on the door handle jingled when she entered.  Riga wiped her feet on the mat, taking in the industrial beige carpet and stark white walls.  The room smelled of burnt sage, the only furniture two metal folding chairs against one wall and an empty glass counter.  A crystal swayed in the window, sending rainbows of light around the room.  Astrology posters had been tacked to the walls and Riga paused in front of her sign, Taurus, the bull.  

Audrey emerged from a hallway behind the counter, head bent as she unzipped her black leather jacket.  She looked up, saw Riga, and crossed her arms over her chest.  “What do you want?”

“We were going to have an early lunch, remember?”

Audrey tugged the fur-lined aviators hat and goggles from her head and set it on the counter.  “That was before you bullied Tara.  She told me you tried to scare her into leaving.  Everyone’s trying to push us!”  She pointed at the graffiti.  “Reverend Carver wants us gone, you want us gone.  I’m sick of it!”

Riga ground her teeth in frustration.  Audrey had been hit with graffiti and was taking it out on Riga.  Fine.  She took a deep breath.  “That’s not a fair comparison,” Riga said quietly.  “I don’t want you gone.  I want you safe.”

Audrey snorted.  “So you say.”

The muscles in Riga’s face tightened.  “Look, I didn’t kill her cat.  But someone did, so yes, I suggested she take a vacation.  You were the one who drew the connection between the harassment and the killer, remember?”  Riga’s gaze flicked to the window, where someone had scrawled the word, “whore.”  “I didn’t graffiti your window either.  Have you called the police?”

Audrey’s eyes crackled with fury.  “The police came this morning.” She pressed her hands against the top of the counter, as if to launch herself over it.  “They told me they’d gotten a ‘complaint’ – not from me, about me.  Someone told them prostitution was going on here.  They looked around, asked me some questions, and left.  When I complained about the graffiti, one of them took a picture as evidence, but the way they were acting, I think it’s evidence against me.”

“I can help you remove it if you like.” Riga reached for her bag, hoping to make peace.  “I’ve got a razor blade in my first aid kit.”

 “Oh, I’m not taking it down,” Audrey snapped.  “I want everyone to see how we’re being persecuted!”

“The thing about graffiti is, if you leave it up, it tends to attract more,” Riga warned.  “And not just to your shop, to others in the area.”

“So now you’re an expert on petty crimes too?  You didn’t know Lynn and you didn’t know Sarah.  There’s no reason for you to be involved.  You’re a metaphysical detective.  Do you really think you can do something the police can’t?”

“Maybe.”

“Stop helping!”

It was the second time that morning someone had accused her of being overly helpful.  She tilted her head, considering.  “Technically, I’m meddling.”

Audrey stared at her, then burst into laughter.  “Damn it.  I’m sorry.”  She massaged the bridge of her nose, then dropped her hands to her sides and sighed.  It’s been a rotten couple of days and I took it out on you.  Peace?”

“Sure.”

A dog barked outside, drawing Audrey’s attention to the window.  She straightened from the counter, her pulse beating in her jaw.  Riga turned, following her gaze.  The dog from last night sat outside the window, staring in, a stream of drool hanging from its mouth.   In the light of day she saw it was indeed a Caucasian Sheepdog and remarkably ugly, a cross between a Saint Bernard and a mangy bear.  Behind the dog, a dark green van was being unloaded in the parking lot by a dozen or so people bundled in parkas and leather jackets.  An angular male figure jumped from the van, carrying placards beneath one arm.  He handed them off to another man then slid the door shut, revealing a rising sun painted on the side.