The Alchemical Detective (Riga Hayworth) Read Free

regarding her thoughtfully. 
    “Dinner with Monsieur Mosse?”
    Riga nodded. 
    “And you will spend ze night?”
    “Probably,” Riga said cautiously.  She’d been staying there so often, Donovan was nagging her to move in.  But even at forty-something, Riga wasn’t that kind of girl. 
    “Good,” Brigitte said.  “I have an errand to run and shall return tomorrow.”
    “An errand?” Riga didn’t pry into Brigitte’s personal life, was unsure if Brigitte actually had one.  What sort of errand could the gargoyle be running?
    “An errand,” Brigitte said.  She cocked her head, examining Riga critically.  “Are you going to wear that?”
    Riga looked down.  She’d dressed in wide-legged khaki-colored slacks and a vintage forties black button-up sweater that hugged her curves.  A red silk scarf was knotted jauntily around her neck. 
    “Why?” Riga said.  “Have I got egg on me?”
    “It is not ze most romantic look.  At least unbutton it at ze top.”
    Riga’s eyes narrowed.  “Thanks for the fashion tip.”
     “You are welcome.  In ze meantime, do not pursue this poor murdered lady.  It is too dangerous on your own.”
    “Of course I won’t.  The police consider me a suspect.  Getting involved would only make me look guilty.  Besides, I don’t have a client.”  But the sigil nagged at her. 
    Brigitte shot her a knowing look.  “A coincidence, you think, that a sigillum only five people in ze world know how to create appears near ze body of a dead woman in Lake Tahoe, your home for the last month?  A coincidence, now that you are at your weakest and unable to defend yourself?”
    “I’m not defenseless.  This may come as a shock to you, but every day, billions of people go about their lives without depending upon magic.”
    “These people you speak of are very silly.”  Brigitte fluttered to the sliding glass door that opened onto a wooden deck.  The movement was surprisingly graceful for a block of stone.  “It is as I feared, Riga.  They know what has happened, that you are vulnerable, and they are challenging you.  Now open ze door.”
    Riga hastily slid the door open before Brigitte shattered the pane of glass.  “They?  Who are they?”
    “Stay close to Monsieur Mosse.” Brigitte crouched, her muscles tensing, then with a bound soared off over the pines, a shrinking silhouette against the darkening sky.
    Riga shut the door, shifting her weight uneasily.  Brigitte was right; the coincidence was too great.  But if the sigil had been drawn by one of Lefebvre’s servants, the police wouldn’t be able to protect her.
    Riga was on her own.
     

Chapter 3: Life in the Penthouse Suite
    Riga discreetly undid the top button of her sweater, then waved her key card in front of the electric eye for Donovan’s private elevator.  Slot machines rang faintly behind her.  Riga wasn’t a fan of gambling.  She had nothing against people throwing their money away; it was their money, after all.  But casinos felt like purgatory to her, with their bad lighting and no clocks to tell if it was day or night, and by coming here for Donovan, she felt she’d taken enough of a gamble.  He, however, lived in his casino’s penthouse.  It was a temporary residence, while Donovan worked out “management issues.” 
    The doors slid open to reveal a hulking man in a forest-green uniform, with a fine spider-webbing of scars  that splintered the right side of his face.  She ran her glance over him – ankle holster, bulge over right buttock, and was that a miniature taser on the key ring attached to his belt?  Riga felt a surge of weaponry envy.
    “Evening, Miss Hayworth,” he said.
    She smiled and stepped inside.  “Evening, Cesar.”
    The doors closed silently and the elevator sped upward.  Riga tried to ignore the lurch in her stomach.  She hated elevators. 
    The elevator slowed to a halt. 
    “Penthouse suite,” the guard said.
    The doors slid open to reveal a