The Metaphysical Detective (A Riga Hayworth Paranormal Mystery) by Kirsten Weiss
Authors: Kirsten Weiss
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fashioned about those things. Besides, putting one over on Aaron wouldn’t have been worth the collateral damage to her.”
“She divorced him though.”
“Not because of me,” he said firmly. “Aaron had her on a short leash, was controlling, wanted to know her every movement, vet her friends. Lauren couldn’t stand it for long. But Aaron…” He grimaced. “Aaron doesn’t take rejection well. The divorce was public and ugly. He dug up her past and made her look like trailer trash. She wasn’t. She had good lawyers though, and they found a little maid he’d seduced while the two were married.”
“How trite.”
“Aaron is nothing if not conventional. They had a pre-nup – at Aaron’s insistence I’m sure, he’s such a cautious–“
Riga gave him a warning look.
He bit back the epithet. “Anyway, he’d broken the pre-nup. Aaron lost the case.”
“And then there was the accident.”
Donovan took a swallow of his brandy, grimaced with pleasure. “Stay away from Aaron Cunningham. Too many accidents happen around him.”
Chapter 16: Moirai
Donovan refused to say more about Lauren, or the other accidents he’d hinted at, merely repeating his warning for her to stay away from Aaron. He walked her to her car then left her, saying he had an urgent appointment. She sat in the parking lot, thinking, then took out her phone and began searching the Internet for names and numbers. Aaron’s romantic conquests had been high profile, and it wasn’t difficult tracking them down. Riga’s calls to his former lovers, however, were all met by a chilly silence and polite refusal to meet. Finally, she called Lauren. She’d been putting her off until last, reluctant to intrude in the woman’s life. But Lauren was her one success. After a long pause, she agreed to meet later that afternoon, and gave Riga directions to her home in Woodside, a wealthy rural community nestled in the hills between the ocean and the bay. Lauren had done well, indeed, from the divorce settlement.
Riga stopped for the lunch she’d missed with Aaron at a local burger joint, killing time. An hour later, she pulled into Lauren’s wide, circular driveway. As she drove towards the storybook style mansion, she saw the flash of a silver sports car departing through the trees in the drive opposite. It looked like an Aston Martin, but she couldn’t be sure through the thick foliage and drooping oaks.
She parked in a dirt turnout not far from the house, and walked to the door, wary. Riga paused on the brick step, wondering what it would be like to live here. There was a bell, but Riga used the weighty bronze doorknocker: a man’s leering face peering through ivy with a ring held in his teeth.
A maid in a gray dress answered her knock, and led her through a foyer with a centerpiece of high cut flowers, and into an all-white sitting room with tall windows facing an English garden, still green in the California autumn. Lauren sat in a wheelchair near the window, facing out. At the sound of Riga’s entrance, she deftly turned her chair with one hand. In the other, she held a pair of glass knitting needles that reminded Riga of a set of marbles her father had saved from his childhood – colorful treasures he’d won off other kids. He had once taught her how to play them, but the concept was too old-fashioned for her to interest any of her friends in. Where had that box of marbles gone?
From the needles hung an unfinished project, blazing with the colors of a sunset, the skein coiled in Lauren’s lap. A basket of yarns sat on the floor near her chair.
“You’ll forgive me if I don’t get up,” Lauren said. Her voice had a honey quality to it – not quite a drawl – and Riga sensed this was a line that Lauren used frequently.
Lauren was a beauty, with artfully tousled shoulder-length blonde hair and a slim build. Riga understood now what Donovan
“She divorced him though.”
“Not because of me,” he said firmly. “Aaron had her on a short leash, was controlling, wanted to know her every movement, vet her friends. Lauren couldn’t stand it for long. But Aaron…” He grimaced. “Aaron doesn’t take rejection well. The divorce was public and ugly. He dug up her past and made her look like trailer trash. She wasn’t. She had good lawyers though, and they found a little maid he’d seduced while the two were married.”
“How trite.”
“Aaron is nothing if not conventional. They had a pre-nup – at Aaron’s insistence I’m sure, he’s such a cautious–“
Riga gave him a warning look.
He bit back the epithet. “Anyway, he’d broken the pre-nup. Aaron lost the case.”
“And then there was the accident.”
Donovan took a swallow of his brandy, grimaced with pleasure. “Stay away from Aaron Cunningham. Too many accidents happen around him.”
Chapter 16: Moirai
Donovan refused to say more about Lauren, or the other accidents he’d hinted at, merely repeating his warning for her to stay away from Aaron. He walked her to her car then left her, saying he had an urgent appointment. She sat in the parking lot, thinking, then took out her phone and began searching the Internet for names and numbers. Aaron’s romantic conquests had been high profile, and it wasn’t difficult tracking them down. Riga’s calls to his former lovers, however, were all met by a chilly silence and polite refusal to meet. Finally, she called Lauren. She’d been putting her off until last, reluctant to intrude in the woman’s life. But Lauren was her one success. After a long pause, she agreed to meet later that afternoon, and gave Riga directions to her home in Woodside, a wealthy rural community nestled in the hills between the ocean and the bay. Lauren had done well, indeed, from the divorce settlement.
Riga stopped for the lunch she’d missed with Aaron at a local burger joint, killing time. An hour later, she pulled into Lauren’s wide, circular driveway. As she drove towards the storybook style mansion, she saw the flash of a silver sports car departing through the trees in the drive opposite. It looked like an Aston Martin, but she couldn’t be sure through the thick foliage and drooping oaks.
She parked in a dirt turnout not far from the house, and walked to the door, wary. Riga paused on the brick step, wondering what it would be like to live here. There was a bell, but Riga used the weighty bronze doorknocker: a man’s leering face peering through ivy with a ring held in his teeth.
A maid in a gray dress answered her knock, and led her through a foyer with a centerpiece of high cut flowers, and into an all-white sitting room with tall windows facing an English garden, still green in the California autumn. Lauren sat in a wheelchair near the window, facing out. At the sound of Riga’s entrance, she deftly turned her chair with one hand. In the other, she held a pair of glass knitting needles that reminded Riga of a set of marbles her father had saved from his childhood – colorful treasures he’d won off other kids. He had once taught her how to play them, but the concept was too old-fashioned for her to interest any of her friends in. Where had that box of marbles gone?
From the needles hung an unfinished project, blazing with the colors of a sunset, the skein coiled in Lauren’s lap. A basket of yarns sat on the floor near her chair.
“You’ll forgive me if I don’t get up,” Lauren said. Her voice had a honey quality to it – not quite a drawl – and Riga sensed this was a line that Lauren used frequently.
Lauren was a beauty, with artfully tousled shoulder-length blonde hair and a slim build. Riga understood now what Donovan
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