The Alchemical Detective (Riga Hayworth) Read Free Page B

them a photo of a possible substitute host, you, they reconsidered.”
    Riga’s nose wrinkled.  Lake monsters.  As if.  “No.  Absolutely not.  I’m a metaphysical detective, not a monster hunter.  And the TV adds ten pounds.”
    “You’re a paranormal investigator and a dead ringer for Rita Hayworth.  You’re perfect.  They want to hire you to seek the cause of the recent uptick in Tessie sightings, and film you doing it.  I didn’t promise them anything.  They just want to meet you tomorrow.  It’s a legitimate client, a short, two week assignment and the pay is fair.” 
    “How much?” Riga asked, reluctant.
    Donovan named a sum and she gave a low whistle.  The money was more than fair; it was a good year’s pay.
    “Think of all the Tessie t-shirt and coffee mug sellers you’d be helping,” he rumbled, his voice low and seductive.  “You’d be supporting an entire line of tourist schlock.”
     “Tempting,” she said.  But she felt a twinge of irritation.  She could use the money, sure – though she didn’t like Donovan pointing that out.  And the TV show could be fun.  It wouldn’t be a long commitment and it would take her mind off her lost magic.  So why did this feel like a trap, closing in upon her?
    His arm stole around her waist.  “Everybody wins,” he murmured. “You, the local businesses—”
    “You?” She turned her head and their lips nearly touched.  He smelled musky, intoxicating.  All she had to do was lean forward…
    “Of course, the casino will be featured in the show as well.”
    “Of course.”  Riga laughed wryly.  “It does sound fun but I can’t do it.”  She felt relief at the declaration.  Of liberation? 
    Donovan scratched the small x-shaped scar on his chin, and looked at her thoughtfully.  “That hair shirt doesn’t suit you.”
    Riga almost looked down at her sweater, caught herself in time.  “What’s that supposed to mean?”
    “I mean it’s time to end this penance you’ve been on.  Your life is worth more than that.”
    “I’m not doing penance,” she said, indignant.  “Look, I can’t go on TV like some cheap psychic.  It’s with good reason magicians keep a low profile.” 
    “A vow of poverty?”
    Riga gritted her teeth.  “That’s unfair.”
    “What’s unfair is that grotty cabin you rented,” he drawled.  “Why won’t you just move in with me, here?”
    Riga’s jaw settled in a mulish expression.  It was an old argument.  “Don’t try to manipulate me.”
    “I’m just trying to make you see that what I want you to do is in your own best interests.”
    Riga burst out laughing. 
    One side of his mouth pulled into a grin.  “All the show wants is a telegenic paranormal investigator.  They don’t need to know about your other skills.  Just hear them out.”
    She placed her palm upon his chest.  “I can’t. I’m a person of interest in a murder investigation.”
    He stared.  “You’re joking.”
    Riga explained about the Sheriff, about Lefebvre.
    Donovan groaned.  “What were you thinking?  Why would you incriminate yourself like that?”
    “I didn’t have much choice,” Riga said.  “I don’t have a client.  I can’t investigate it.  Lady – Sarah Glass deserves justice.  I was duty bound to tell the police what I could.” 
    “Bound by whom?”  He released her and began to pace the hall.  His booted feet were as silent as a panther’s on the wood plank floor.  “Good God, Riga, do you have any idea what you’ve done?”
    “Of course I do!”  This was about more than justice for Sarah Glass. If the murder had been committed by one of Lefebvre’s men, Riga would be on their list as well.  But her hands were tied.  Rules were rules, and as much as she regretted entering into that magical bargain, as long as she had no client…
    “On second thought,” she said, “I’ll do it.”  The show would be her client.  True, they’d be paying her to look for a