The Metaphysical Detective (A Riga Hayworth Paranormal Mystery)

by Kirsten Weiss

  Vinnie stopped eating and looked at her expectantly.

  “How did you die?”

  He flushed. “It was just a dumb accident. I was drinking and cleaning my gun at the same time. Like I said, dumb.”

  Riga nodded, not quite believing the accident story after what he’d said about wishing he’d died instead of his friends.

  “Why were you drinking?” she asked.

  “Same reason you drink, I guess,” he shot back.

  She sat back in her chair, struck. She’d known a lot of alcoholics in Afghanistan. The civilians coped with the place three ways: they either never left the compounds for fear of getting killed, they went into denial, ignoring the danger (and sometimes getting killed), or they tried to walk a middle path – going out and about but avoiding excessive risks. Those in the third category drank a lot and that’s where she’d fallen. Fortunately, her excessive drinking had stopped as soon as she’d returned home. Or had it? With the exception of whatever had happened with Donovan, she never had more than one glass at a time. And how the hell would Vinnie know anyway? They’d never drank together, she thought crossly.

  She plowed on. “Vinnie, sometimes when you’re in a disaster and live, while the others around you die, a part of you feels guilty for surviving.”

  “Survivor’s guilt?” He nodded. “I saw that on Oprah. Now that’s a dame,” he said admiringly. “Can you believe she gave up her show?”

  Riga took a deep breath. Patience, she thought. She tried to smile encouragingly, but it looked more like a grimace. “Yes, survivor’s guilt. Do you think you might have ever experienced that?”

  He lifted his shoulders. “Sure. We all did, I guess. But you don’t understand the military. We had each other’s backs. We were a family, you know? We got each other through it. Oh, hey,” his brown eyes turned serious. “Oh, wow, I can’t believe what a blockhead I’ve been. When you were in the Afghan war, you were a civilian. When all those people died, you didn’t have anybody to get you through, did you? Look, I know I seem like a good time Charlie, but if you want to talk about it—“

  Riga ground the heels of her hands into her eyes. “No! I mean – yes! No, that wasn’t what I meant to say.”

  Vinnie looked at her sympathetically.

  “Why do you think you were stuck haunting your old home rather than moving on?” Riga asked.

  “Unfinished business.”

  “And what,” Riga snarled, “might that be?”

  “A contract. A producer heard me sing and I finally got a record contract. But I was new in town, didn’t have anyone to celebrate with. So I went home and accidentally blew my damn brains against the wall. Can you believe it? Three years in the Pacific without a scratch and then I shoot my own damn self just when I’m about to get everything I want.”

  “Ironic,” a voice said from behind them. Donovan had woken without them noticing. He lounged against the open arch, his shirt open, the curtains billowing behind him.

  “Ironic? It’s fucking tragic.” Vinnie glanced at Riga and ducked his head. “Sorry.”

  “Did we wake you?” she said.

  “No. I feel fine now. It’s a good thing Vinnie is here. This involves him, too.”

  He made himself comfortable on one of the chairs, popping an olive in his mouth before stretching his legs out before him. “Just over five years ago, in this world’s time, there was a murder on Mt. Olympus. Hecate was found in her chambers, her soul gone. The room had been overturned. Zeus immediately sealed the room and no one has gone in or out since.”

  “You mean the corpse is just lying there?” Vinnie’s features twisted in disgust.

  “She wouldn’t, er, deteriorate like a human, but yes.”

  “Why did he seal her in?” she asked. “Why not a tomb? And how do you know no one’s gone in and out?”

  “Because the only magic on Mt. Olympus is Zeus’s. It acts like a dampening field on the other gods, which has made this place a haven.”

  Riga sagged with relief. So that was why her spells had failed.

  He poured himself wine from the jug and took a sip, sighing with pleasure.

  “Oh, no you don’t,” Riga said, taking the goblet from him. “This is not the time, no matter how good the wine is.”

  “Have you tried it?” he asked, his tone outraged.

  Riga just glared at him.

  He rolled his eyes. “He sealed her in because he didn’t know what else to do. Do you remember the Trojan War?”

  “I’m not that old,” Riga said.

  The ghost of a smile crossed his face. “Three goddesses argued over who was the most beautiful and they demanded Zeus decide. He brought in a human named Paris, who chose Aphrodite.”

  “And the other goddesses took it out on Paris, sparking the Trojan War,” Riga completed for him. “So what you’re telling me is that Zeus is still a big coward, and he didn’t want to make waves by accusing any of the other Olympians of the attack.”

  “Yes.”

  “And now I’m Paris.”

  He hesitated, then nodded his head. “Yes.”

  She folded her arms across her chest, her brows drawing downward in a frown. “No way. Paris was a sucker. There’s no way to win in this situation. If I catch the killer, I lose. If I don’t catch the killer – What happens if I don’t catch the killer?”

  Donovan shrugged impatiently. “We don’t get Pen back and we’re all stuck here. Look, the door opened soon after Hecate was killed. Odds are the two incidents are connected.”

  Vinnie’s chair creaked beneath him as he leaned forward, intent. “You think Hecate knew what someone was up to? She was going to blow the whistle on him?”

  “Maybe.” Donovan plucked a grape from the basket.

  “But why bring me into it?” Riga protested. “If Zeus can’t deal with this, then why not Dionysus? He’s the god of mystery, after all.”

  “Family politics,” Donovan said. “Zeus wouldn’t allow it. But when Zeus understood the danger the open door posed to both the worlds, he tasked Dionysus with sorting that out. Hecate’s death was still off limits, so Dionysus decided to investigate what was happening on the other side – our side.”

  “Did he learn anything?” Riga asked.

  Donovan studied her with a curious intensity. “He found you.”

  Chapter 37: Father of the Gods

  Dionysus had returned, but his effect upon her now was no more than a quiver of awareness and a mild sense of inadequacy. Riga had cleaned up as best she could, but her clothing was definitely worse for wear. She felt like she’d been invited to a black tie event and shown up in dirty jeans.

  He took them down another long corridor to an arched wooden door, painted sky blue, and knocked gently upon it.

  “Come!” a deep voice boomed from within.

  Dionysus deliberately swung the door open.

  The room was a Mediterranean style study. Wooden shelves laden with books and weapons lined the walls. A geometric patterned carpet lay upon the marble floor, and one side of the room was open to the air, sheer curtains swaying lightly in the breeze. Riga took this in with a glance, arrested by the man who stood bracing his hands upon a rough wooden table.

  He studied an unrolled sheaf of paper. His hair was dark blond, nearly brown, and his bronzed body lean and muscular. He was bare-chested, with a white linen kilt around his hips. The man looked up at their entrance and his blue eyes reminded Riga of summer lightning. He appeared to be in his late forties, not the bearded patriarch that Riga had expected.

  She stopped short, swaying as if her feet were pinned to the floor, and Vinnie stumbled into her from behind. The god didn’t affect her the way Hades and the other gods had – that affect, whatever it had been, was over. He was the spitting image of Charlton Heston. Not that she would ever consider spitting in front of him. Ever. Riga’s mind scrambled. Were the gods appearing to her in images she would understand? As archetypes, it made a strange sort of sense.

  �
�Father,” Dionysus said, “these are our guests, Riga Hayworth and Vinnie Delriccio. Riga Hayworth, Vinnie Delriccio, this is my father, Zeus.”

  “Holy Cecille B. DeMille,” Vinnie said in an undertone.

  “Sir,” Riga croaked.

  Vinnie nudged her and murmured, “He looks just like–“

  “I know,” she hissed.

  Zeus straightened, giving them a blinding smile. “So you are the lady who is going to solve our mystery.” He motioned her to him. “Come, Riga Hayworth. I think you will find this interesting. I was just going over the plans for Olympus.” He glanced at Dionysus. “You may leave us. Riga Hayworth and I have much to discuss.”

  Dionysus gave Riga a reassuring smile, then left, Vinnie scurrying behind him.

  Riga swallowed hard, watching the door close upon her. She took a breath, centered, put on a smile, and turned to Zeus.

  “How much has Dionysus told you about our problem?” Zeus asked.

  Riga felt dangerously close to a fit of girlish giggles. She tried not to look directly at him. “He explained, sir, that Hecate had been murdered, here upon Olympus, and that you had sealed the room. That this had happened soon before the door between our worlds was opened, and he thought there might be a connection.”

  “In broad strokes,” he agreed.

  “Sir, if I can prove who committed the crime, do you agree to send all of us back – Vinnie, Dog, Donovan, Pen, and myself?”

  “That is a lot to ask.”

  “And if I can demonstrate how the door between the worlds was breached as well?”

  Zeus stroked his chin, regarding her. “Then the terms you propose are fair.” He picked up a knife with a simple wooden handle. The weapon seemed too humble for the king of the gods.

  “Dionysus gave you an outline of what happened,” he said. “I shall give you the details.” He pointed with the knife at a spot on the diagram. “These are Hecate’s chambers, where she was struck down. It happened just before dinner. I was here,” he pointed at a large room in another section of the plan, “downstairs in the dining area. Demeter was with me, as were Hades and Persephone.” He gave Riga a piercing look. “My brother does not leave his realm often, you see, and I ordered a feast in his honor. Demeter sees her daughter infrequently and when she learned of the proposed visit, she came at once.”

  Riga nodded.

  Seeming satisfied with her understanding, Zeus continued. “Hermes, Apollo, and Artemis were to join us, and had just passed Hecate’s chamber when they heard sounds of a struggle inside. The door was locked, and they were unable to gain entry.”

  “Excuse me, sir,” Riga said, “but why couldn’t they get in?”

  “In order to maintain family harmony, the only power upon Olympus is my own. One of my family may unlock her own door, but it is impossible for one to gain entry to another’s quarters without permission. I suppose you could call it part of the magic of this place.”

  “Sir, who else was on Olympus at the time?”

  “No one.”

  “Could someone have come through the window?”

  “Not in this case. Hecate was a creature of darkness. When I entered her room, we found her window barred from the inside.”

  “Forgive me, sir, but are you quite certain that you were the only ones here at the time?”

  “Olympus is as much a part of me as my own hand. I know who is here and who is not. And I know you had a visitor this afternoon.”

  Riga felt her heart skip a beat – Brigitte. “Please go on with your story, sir. I’m sorry I interrupted it. You were saying that they heard a struggle within?”

  A flash of humor crossed his face, but Zeus allowed her to change the subject. “Artemis pounded upon the door, but there was no answer. I had heard the crashing – we all did, and encountered Apollo upon the stairs, coming to fetch me. When he explained what they had heard, I opened the door. We found Hecate upon the bed in the form of her younger self, a wound in her chest. The knife that had struck her lay upon the floor.”

  “Did you recognize the knife?” she asked.

  “Of course. It was my own.”

  Chapter 38: The Locked Room

  Zeus opened the door to Hecate’s chamber and stepped back, allowing Riga to enter first. She walked carefully around the smashed pottery and overturned chairs concentrated near the door.

  “It appears the fight took place here,” Zeus said.

  “Yes, it does look that way.”

  Hecate’s body lay half upon the bed, facing the door. Her feet skimmed the floor as if she’d been surprised in the act of getting up. The goddess looked like a teenager, like Pen. Riga swallowed hard, unable to bear that thought. She looked up, blinking rapidly. The ceiling was a moonless night, stars glittering in inky blackness. Riga felt a moment of giddiness.

  “It is an illusion,” Zeus said, with a note of pride. “My own.”

  “It’s remarkable.” She cleared her throat and forced herself to move closer to the small figure upon the bed. Hecate looked more like a wax figure than a corpse – a very surprised wax figure. The bed spread was neat, and the area around the bed tidy, with the exception of a dull black knife that lay beside the bed. It looked Paleolithic, crudely fashioned from stone.

  Riga turned to Zeus, careful to avoid looking directly at his eyes. She focused on his mouth instead. That was safe. “Sir, am I to understand that Hecate was killed inside a locked room, with your knife, and the only one who could possibly have gotten inside to commit the crime was you, but you were with three other people at the time?”

  “Precisely.”

  “I would have thought that killing an Olympian was not an easy thing, sir, even for another Olympian.”

  “Hecate would have been more vulnerable here and he used the Soul Splitter.”

  At Riga’s questioning look, he continued. “You remember your history, of course? When man was originally created, he was too powerful – a danger to himself and others. He walked on four legs, had four arms, and two faces. So I split man in half, and Apollo, using his healing power, enabled man to exist as two separate beings – male and female. The knife I used to do it was given to me by Hecate for the purpose.”

  It was the myth of the soul mate, the foundation story of alchemy. But she’d never heard the blade named before. Riga was fascinated in spite of herself.

  She prowled the room. The shutters were thick planks of wood which did not allow any light. A heavy beam held them fast on the inside. She ran her fingers down the joins of the shutters. They were nearly seamless.

  Zeus watched as she knelt and examined the pottery shards by the door.

  She looked at one grouping and knelt to reassemble it like a puzzle until its shape became clear. It was black with red figures. “A wash basin?” she asked.

  He nodded.

  She stood, looked around, then walked to a small table on the opposite side of the bed. A matching pitcher. Riga turned it upside down. It was dry.

  She replaced the pitcher and returned to her examination of the room. Her hands glided lightly along the legs of the overturned chairs. Suddenly she stood and pointed. “This chair, was it against the door when you entered?”

  “Yes. When I opened the door, the chair was directly behind it. It was pushed into that position when the door swung open. However, the chair had already been overturned.”

  “Sir, please look at this.” Carefully, she lifted a nearly invisible filament which was tied to the leg of the chair.

  “A string? What of it?”

  “I’m not sure. May I borrow it, sir?”

  Zeus shrugged his permission.

  “Who entered the room after Hecate’s death, sir?” Riga asked.

  “I was the only one. Dionysus arrived on the heels of the event. He tried to force his way inside and so I sealed it. Afterward, I decided to keep it sealed.”

  Riga stiffened. “Dionysus arrived?”

  “He was not here when she was killed,” he said. “He coul
d not have been involved.”

  Dionysus hadn’t mentioned any of this to Riga – another in a long string of omissions. “Sir, when was the last time anyone saw Hecate alive?” she asked.

  Zeus motioned to the door, indicating they should leave. He followed her into the hallway. “I walked with her earlier that day in the garden,” he said, sealing the door behind them. “She seemed untroubled, even happy.”

  “Happy, sir? Why was that?”

  “I assumed it was because she knew Dionysus would soon arrive. They had a relationship.”

  And the other shoe dropped. Dionysus and Hecate. Of course.

  Fuming, Riga turned, pretending to admire a bouquet of flowers upon a slim table in the hallway. She grasped the rim of the clay vase and tilted it forty five degrees. She peered underneath, found nothing, replaced it. “Sir, was anyone else at Olympus that day?”

  “Only those I spoke of earlier.”

  Good. She had enough suspects to deal with. “It would be useful, sir, if my colleague and I could speak with the others who were here that night.”

  Zeus casually sank the blade of the knife into the wooden table. “If you mean Dionysus, there is enough discord upon Olympus. When you uncover the guilty party, his involvement will make you lose credibility.”

  “I agree, sir,” she said. “I was thinking of Vinnie.”

  Chapter 39: Dionysus

  Riga returned to her chambers, where she found Vinnie and Dionysus waiting.

  The ghost paced the floor. “How did it go with the big guy?”

  “Zeus is assembling the Olympians who were here when Hecate was attacked. I’ll need you to interview Hades, Demeter and Persephone to figure out who last saw Hecate alive, and a get timeline of where everyone was and with whom from that afternoon up until the discovery of her body. I’ll also need you to find out everything you can about Hecate.”

  Dionysus brushed an imaginary speck of dust from Donovan’s jacket. “At last. I’ll go find them.”