“He wasn’t drinking,” the bartender snarled.
“I know! I mean, I couldn’t believe he was…“
The man swung the rag off his shoulder and began wiping down the bar with long, angry strokes. “I told the cops. They tried to blame me for it. His wife – your aunt? – threatened a lawsuit. I nearly got my license pulled. But he ordered one beer and didn’t drink it. That’s the only reason I remembered them, it was a damn waste of a beer. So why are you really here? Trying to sniff out some money?”
“No! It’s just – nobody ever tells me anything.”
“Huh.” He polished the bar more vigorously.
“You said ‘them.’”
He looked up at her, his eyes a searing, pale blue.
“He wasn’t alone?” she asked.
“With a woman. Police asked me about her, but I didn’t know who she was at the time.”
“At the time? Do you know now?”
“Local councilwoman, Faye something. I don’t pay attention to politics.”
The man who’d bumped her sat at the bar and slung an arm around her shoulder. “Can I buy you something?”
She shrugged out from under him. “No thanks.”
He reached for her elbow and she jerked away. “Hey, I’m just trying to be friendly,” he said.
“She’s jailbait,” the bartender barked. “Go be friendly to someone else.”
He pushed away from the bar, his eyes narrowed piggishly. “Don’t tell me my business, old man!”
The hispanic man heaved his bulk off of his barstool. “Problem, Fred?” he asked, his voice mild.
“These boys were just leaving,” the bartender, Fred, said.
The first little pig cursed, knocked a glass skittering across the bar, and slouched out. His two friends followed, shooting angry looks at Pen and Fred.
“This isn’t the place for you, kid,” Fred said. “You got your answers. Go on home. I don’t need any trouble.”
Pen flushed and slid off her chair, leaving a wad of cash on the bar. Outside, a streetlight feebly illuminated one corner of the lot and she walked towards it. Deep in thought, she didn’t see them. A hand grasped her above the elbow and spun her backwards, slamming her into a parked Audi.
The first little pig pinned her shoulders against the car. “Think you’re funny, getting us tossed out?”
“No!” She shook her head, bewildered by the suddenness of the attack. “I didn’t mean anything.”
She heard one of the others snicker.
“Come on, Tony,” the third pig said, putting a hand on his arm.
Tony shook it off, his hands slipping closer to Pen’s throat. “So how are you going to make it up to me?”
“Wha—what do you mean? There’s money in my purse, you can have it.”
The second, a beefy blond, wrenched the bag from her hands and searched it. “Got her wallet,” he said. “Ten bucks.” He pocketed the money in his jeans and dropped bag and wallet to the ground.
The light above them went dark. Pen’s vision was reduced to shadows and silhouettes.
Tony pressed closer. “I don’t think that’s enough. What else are you going to give—?”
The pressure on Pen’s collarbone released and something crashed to the graveled lot.
“That’s enough,” a female voice said. “We don’t want a fight. Pen, go to your car.”
“R—Aunt Riga?” Pen’s voice trembled.
Riga was a slim silhouette in the darkness. “Go to your car and wait for me there.”
Pen straightened and a blow to her chest shoved her back against the Audi.
“Who the fuck are you?” the blonde asked.
Pen heard scrabbling, saw the figure of Tony rise.
“I don’t want a fight,” Riga repeated. Her eyes seemed to glow, eerie in the moonlight.
“Well, you’ve got one,” Tony snarled. He swung at her. Pen saw Riga move toward him. There was a grunt as Tony’s head flopped suddenly to the side. He doubled over, a gasp and a groan as Riga kneed him in the stomach then the groin. She spun him under her arm and he landed on his back, his head hitting the ground hard.
Riga turned to the others. The blonde released Pen, took a step forward and then lashed out with a round kick. Riga stepped to the side, but not quickly enough to dodge the blow. Her frame shook with it. She trapped his right leg with her own and grabbed his shoulder, then spun him backwards, sending him onto his back. Riga dropped, her knee driving into his groin. A ghastly cry issued from his lips and he curled into a fetal position. Pen heard the sound of vomiting.
Riga turned back to Pen and the last man. “I don’t want to fight,” she said.
He put his hands up in a warding gesture, taking a quick step backwards. “Hey, Lady, I don’t want to fight, either.”
“Pen, go to your car and wait for me there,” Riga said.
Something metallic glinted in Tony’s hand. Pen shrieked, pointing. Riga spun around, too slow, as the knife arced toward her leg.
Pen felt a rush of air pass her face, something whirled out of the darkness. There was a crunching sound, a howl. Tony’s hand disappeared beneath a dark shape the size of a bread box. It sprang to the top of a Camaro. The car’s roof buckled beneath it.
“Sneak!” a husky voice hissed from the darkness. A stone creature paced the length of the car roof. The Camaro groaned beneath its weight. In one swift motion, the creature plunged the knife into the car with a taloned… foot? Hand? “I hate bullies!” the thing grated. The knife handle quivered, upright.
The man beside Pen whimpered. “My car.”
“Oh! Is zees yours?” The thing stomped down the windshield. The glass splintered and crackled ominously. Upon the hood the creature raised a talon, took a long look at the man, daring him, and clawed the hood. “And I also hate cowards!”
Pen looked to Riga. Her aunt’s hair was dancing as if windblown, her expression dark with rage.
Riga took a long, shuddering sigh and her hair fell limp. “Thank you, Brigitte. Would you please make sure my niece makes it safely to her car and waits for me there?”
The gargoyle took one final, malicious swipe at the Camaro and then soared into the air.
Pen stood frozen for a moment, indecisive, then sprinted for her car, gravel flying from beneath her running shoes. When she reached her Bug she stumbled, bounced off it, then realized she’d left her bag and keys in the lot. She took a step to return, then hesitated, putting one hand upon her car for support. What had she done?
As if from thin air, her bag fell to the ground before her. The creature from the car settled into the branch of an oak. “We women must stick together, no? Do not fear, brave Penelope. I will not let those pigs come near you.”
Pen felt tears spring to her eyes. Ghosts were one thing, but what the hell was this? What if Riga didn’t come back?
She wouldn’t cry. Pen looked around and saw that her aunt had parked behind her. She sniffed. The creature was watching her. She should say something.
“What will – what will Riga do?”
“Her enemies are at her mercy so that is what she will show them. That is why I am proud to call her friend.”
“What—“ Pen wanted to ask what the thing was, but thought it might anger the creature. “How do you know Riga?”
“We met in Paris.” The gargoyle paced the branch and it creaked beneath its weight. “I was the prisoner of a terrible necromancer – a madman!” She tossed her head. “But Riga and I fought him together, and together we vanquished ze fiend! She set me free, and it is my honor to serve her as a free gargoyle and as her friend.”
“Oh,” Pen said in a small voice. “That’s nice.”
Five minutes passed. Ten. Finally, she heard footsteps. “Aunt Riga?” she called out.
“It’s okay.” Riga emerged from the darkness.
“What happened? What took you so long? What did you do?”
“Don’t worry, they’ll live.” She looked around, s
potted the gargoyle in the tree. “Thanks Brigitte. That was… unexpected.”
Brigitte examined a talon. “I was bored.”
“I think my niece and I need to have a talk now.”
“But of course! You must scold her for her foolishness, and then you shall comfort her. I shall leave you to discuss this night.” Brigitte nodded her head to Pen. “Until we meet again.” She sprang from the branch and soared into the darkness. The branch splintered and crashed to the ground.
Riga gave Pen a long look. Pen was pale and her hands shook – she was in no shape to drive.
“Come on,” Riga said, nodding toward her car. “Let’s get out of here. I’ll drive you back for your car later.”
“What was that thing?” Pen said.
“A gargoyle.”
“But – What else exists? Faeries? Vampires? Santa Claus?” Pen said with a shaky laugh.
“Yes. Come on, it’s been a tough night.” Riga got into the car and leaned across the seat, cracking open the passenger door. “Let’s get out of here.”
Pen got inside and buckled up. “You fight dirty.”
“Unlike three grown men attacking a teenage girl, you mean?”
Pen shrank into the leather seat and fell silent.
Riga was shaken too. She wouldn’t have been able to beat them if she’d fought fair. They were stronger and faster. The alcohol had slowed their reflexes, but they knew what they were doing. Riga’s arm throbbed where she’d been kicked and she wondered at the odds of having two punch ups in one day. She felt a shadow of the fury that had raged inside her when Tony pulled the knife. Her anger had tapped into a well of raw power – she could have obliterated them with a word. If Brigitte had not shown up, saving her from injury and crushing that car, Riga thought she might have done it. It wasn’t a happy thought.
Riga drove them to a diner that advertised pies. The place was working class and crowded, and the waitresses looked cheerful but world-weary. One guided them to a booth in the far corner. Riga slid into the seat facing the door and opened a plastic menu. “I hope they have strawberry-rhubarb,” she said.
Pen’s laugh was brittle. “Pie? Are you kidding?”
Riga looked up from the menu and raised an eyebrow. “Why do you think I brought you here?”
“Pie,” Pen muttered.
Riga returned her attention to the menu, flipping past the breakfasts (Served All Day!) and burgers. “What were you doing at the Hanged Man?”
Pen had known the interrogation was coming. “I wanted to know about the night Herman was there.”
Riga ran her gaze down the dessert page. “Learn anything?”
“The bartender said he wasn’t drunk.”
“Well, he would, wouldn’t he? Probably scared someone will sue him over it.”
“I believe him,” Pen said firmly. “And Herman wasn’t alone.”
She peered over the top of the menu, interested. “Really?”
“He was with a local councilwoman named Faye something.”
“Learn anything else?”
“No. I left and then the three little pigs jumped me—”
Riga looked up sharply. “The what?”
“Nothing,” she muttered. “In the bar they just reminded me of the three little pigs for some reason.”
Riga looked thoughtful. “So what else did you learn?”
“Nothing!”
“You sure?” She put the menu down, her eyes hard as glass.
Pen’s anger flared. Why was Riga pushing her? “The bartender didn’t tell me anything else.”
“Then I’ll enlighten you.” Riga leaned across the table. “Seventeen year old girls don’t belong in bars,” she hissed. “I told you to leave it alone, Pen.”
“Everything turned out okay!”
“Did it?” Riga asked.
Pen looked uncomfortable.
Riga felt the blood pound in her head. She’d brought Pen to the restaurant because she’d hoped the presence of other diners would act as a restraint on her temper. With the damage she’d inflicted tonight, she could be prosecuted for assault. Sure, she’d told the guys she didn’t want to fight, her niece had been in danger, and it had been three men on two women. But this was California, land of the lawsuit. She probably should have called the cops, gotten everything on record, but at the time all she could think of was to get the hell out of there. Riga didn’t think the guys would go to the police – too much explaining, too much damage to their pride.
The waitress approached to take their order, her skirt rustling.
“Strawberry-rhubarb pie and an iced tea,” Riga said.
“Do you want that heated, honey?” the waitress asked.
“Sure.”
Pen crossed her arms across her chest. “Nothing for me.”
“She’ll have coffee and a slice of the chocolate peanut butter,” Riga said, handing the menus to the waitress.
The waitress nodded and hurried away.
“Your mother will have to know,” Riga said.
“Why?”
“Because you’re under age. It’s her right.” She fervently hoped Rebecca would ground the kid. Things were happening too fast and Pen was becoming entangled.
“She’ll just get upset,” Pen whispered, frantic. “I’m not going to tell her.”
“Either you tell her, tonight, or I will.”
“That’s not fair!”
Riga stared sightlessly at the window. The night turned it to a mirror, reflecting the pie shop back at her, but if she looked hard enough, she could see cars streaming past on the street outside. “Fair’s a carnival.”
Pen glared at her, jaw clenching and unclenching. Riga could feel the heat from her stare.
“I’ve learned something about the case, too,” Riga said.
Pen’s expression shifted to surprise.
“I thought the things that have been happening – Vinnie, Helen, the water spouts –”
“Water spouts?” Pen interrupted.
“They’ve appeared twice off the coast, both times when I was there to witness them. They’re not normal in this area under any circumstances, and my presence both times was too much of a coincidence. I thought this case was the focus point for these events. Now I’m not so sure. Other paranormal workers have experienced things too. It’s not just us.”
“How did you find this out?”
“A shaman I know told me. I went online, checked out the forums and the paranormal news sources to confirm it. You know more about computers than I, Pen. Would it be possible to map the events by time and place?”
She nodded. “If you give me the addresses and your passcodes for the forums and sites you mentioned. Twitter could be a goldmine too.”
The waitress returned, sliding the pies in front of them. Riga dug in. The pie was molten, burning the roof of her mouth. She took a gulp of the tea, feeling a blister rising, and pressed an ice cube against it with her tongue.
“I’m sorry,” Pen said. “You’re right, I shouldn’t have gone to that bar alone.”
Riga didn’t reply. She’d spotted a familiar figure entering the restaurant, the edge of his black woolen coat swirling about his knees. Donovan looked around as if he owned the place, saw Riga, and smiled. He strode through the crowd to their table.
Riga tilted her head back to look at him. “Fancy meeting you here.”
“I was in the neighborhood and suddenly had an overwhelming urge for pie.”
“And here I thought you might be following me,” Riga said.
His eyes crinkled. “Hard day?”
“Get that pie to go and I’ll tell you all about it.”
In the end, they agreed he’d follow them back to Pen’s car.
“You’re not going to tell him about the Hanged Man?” Pen whispered as they walked towards Riga’s Lincoln.
Riga unlocked the doors and got inside, pretending to think about it.
“It’s private,” Pen said fiercely.
Riga
nodded. “You’re right. It should stay in the family.”
She pulled out her cell phone and dialed a number. “Rebecca? I’m here with Pen. She’d like to talk to you.”
Chapter 26: El Diablo Rojo
Pen wasn’t speaking to her again and Riga pretended she didn’t care. Showing weakness to a teenage girl was never a good idea.
Pen slammed the car door, and stormed off.
Donovan knocked on her window and she rolled it down. “She doesn’t seem happy.”
“I’m a constant disappointment. So where are we off to next?”
“There’s a little wine bar I know –”
“I have to drive home,” Riga warned.
“They serve half glasses and there’s plenty of privacy.” Donovan gave her the address and she mapped it on her phone. She lost Donovan after the second turn. When she arrived, she found he’d already claimed a bank of sleek black leather chairs, forming their own private niche.
She sat across from him, and stretched her legs before her, crossed loosely at the ankles.
Donovan leaned forward. “May I make a suggestion?”
“Please.”
“The Malbec.”
Riga picked up the paper menu on the coffee table beside her and found the wine. “El Diablo Rojo? Sure.”
Donovan caught the eye of the bartender and nodded. He hurried over and took her order, then whipped back, depositing two glasses filled with ruby red wine on the low tables beside them.
Donovan’s was a goblet twice the size of hers. He nodded. “A half glass for you. To the end of your day.” He toasted her.
Riga laced her hands across her stomach. “And speaking of devils, did you put a Tarot card on the whiteboard in my office?”
“Nice segue. The Devil card? Guilty.”
“Why?”
He lazily appraised her. “The Devil: misdirection, deceit, illusion, entrapment. It’s a warning.”
“And you need to warn me because…”
“That should be obvious.”
She felt a ripple of excitement. Their sparring had aroused her. “I discovered the card when my office was being invaded by the local environmental inspection team.”
The Metaphysical Detective (A Riga Hayworth Paranormal Mystery) Page 13
