The Shamanic Detective (A Riga Hayworth Paranormal Mystery)

by Kirsten Weiss

  It leaned drunkenly.

  Brow furrowed, she circled the Lincoln. Both tires on the driver’s side were slashed, the rubber gaping in clown mouth frowns.

  She looked at the fortune teller’s shack, but couldn’t picture Lily slashing her tires. Riga walked to it anyway, and knocked on the door. No one answered. She put her hand on the door, reached behind it with her senses. The place was empty. No one home.

  Riga pulled her cell phone from her pocket, called AAA.

  “Are you in a safe place?”

  Riga grimaced, her mind taking the question into the metaphorical. “I’m fine.”

  The dispatcher told her a tow truck would be there in twenty minutes, and Riga settled against her car to wait.

  She’d forgotten something. She glanced at her phone. Half a dozen messages from Donovan. Shit, the bodyguard. Hurriedly, she called Donovan.

  “Riga! Where are you? Thor showed up and saw your car, but you weren’t there.”

  “I’m there now. Did he see who slashed the tires?”

  Donovan swore. “I’m sending him back.”

  “I’ve called a tow truck.”

  “He’ll get there before the truck does. Are you safe?”

  Riga glanced around the lot, the people hurrying from store to store, the spaces beginning to fill with cars. “I’m safe.”

  “Call me when he arrives.”

  She agreed, then called the Sheriff, told him about Reuben’s alibi.

  He grunted his thanks, and hung up.

  The duct tape on her phone seemed to be holding. At least that was going right today.

  Ten minutes later, a flat bed tow truck pulled up alongside a black SUV.

  A man with blond hair in a ponytail and who was built like Mr. Universe jumped out of the SUV, giving Riga and the tow truck driver equally hard looks. “I’m Thor. Mr. Mosse sent me.” He showed her his casino ID. “What happened?”

  She tried to place his accent, guessed South Africa. “Someone slashed my tires.” She nodded toward the Lincoln.

  “Not good,” he said.

  The tow truck driver took the car on to the garage Donovan used. The bodyguard took Riga to the hospital.

  Sal and Ash walked through the lobby, cups of coffee in their hands.

  “Guys,” Riga said, her new bodyguard close on her heels.

  “Thor.” Briefly, Ash clasped hands with the bodyguard.

  The shaman’s round face beamed. “She’s awake! She’s still weak, and the doctors don’t know if there’s any organ damage. But she’s awake.”

  “That’s great news,” Riga said.

  “What’s wrong? You don’t look so good.”

  Riga clawed her fingers through her hair. “Car trouble.”

  “I can drive,” Sal said. “Where do you need to go?”

  Riga glanced at Thor. There was one place he couldn’t take her. “Lower world.”

  The shaman gave her a long look. “The shadows?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Then let’s go back to my cabin, where we can have privacy.”

  Riga turned to Thor. “Do you mind if I ride with Sal? We’ve got some things to discuss.”

  He and Ash shared a look, then Thor nodded. “I’ll follow you.”

  They walked out together, Ash and Thor leaving them for their SUVs.

  As they neared Sal’s Jaguar, Riga’s phone buzzed.

  She checked the number. “I’ve got to take this. You mind?”

  Sal shook her head, opened the door to the Jaguar. “Nope.”

  Riga slid into the passenger seat, leaving the door open. “Dora. What have you got?”

  “No hello, no how are you? I’m starting to feel abused.”

  “You print that exclusive?”

  “Sold every issue. I found your Aunt Lizzy. Not much, but her husband is living in a long term care facility for Alzheimer’s patients on the Peninsula.”

  “You know how much it costs?”

  Dora named a figure.

  Riga whistled. It wouldn’t take long to bankrupt a person at those rates.

  “Honey, that’s not even an expensive home. You should see what the nice ones go for. The cheap facilities are nine grand a month.” Dora coughed. “I plan on dying young from lung cancer.”

  Riga shut the car door. “Thanks, Dora.”

  “De nada.”

  Riga hung up, pocketing the phone.

  “What happened to your phone?” Sal asked.

  “I threw it at Ankou. It went through him, bounced off the parking lot. That’s another thing I owe him.”

  “Why...?” She shook her head. “Never mind. I don’t want to know.” Sal revved the engine, accelerated sharply onto the highway.

  “Did you know your Uncle Arthur was living in an Alzheimer’s facility?”

  Sal slumped in her seat, stared ahead. “Alzheimer’s? But Lizzy never said anything. Are you sure?”

  “My source double checks her facts. When’s the last time you saw him?”

  “About two years ago. He was a little forgetful, but I thought he was just getting older. Why didn’t she tell me?”

  “Maybe she was protecting your uncle.”

  Sal slowed at a stoplight. “But I would have been there for her, helped out... But she wouldn’t expect that. I haven’t spent much time with her, with either of them, these last years. Shit. I can’t believe I didn’t know about this.”

  “Do you think Derek and Zara know?”

  “I don’t know. I think they would have said something to me, but... My family’s not in very good shape, is it?”

  The light turned green, and the Jaguar surged forward.

  “So my aunt has a motive. That’s what you’re telling me.”

  Riga gazed out the window. The snow at the edge of the road had turned brown. “I’m not suggesting anything. I asked a friend to do a background check on everyone in your cabin. She just got back to me on Lizzy.”

  “Those care facilities don’t come cheap. Maybe she’s saved, maybe they’ve got the money without the income from my company, or maybe I’m throwing Art onto the streets by selling.” She struck the wheel with her palm. “Dammit! Why didn’t she just tell me?”

  Sal pursed her lips, honked at an Audi that swung onto the highway in front of her, too quick and too close. “All those years ago, when you left, I almost quit. Shamanism, I mean.”

  Riga blinked, and then her brain caught up to the non sequitur. “Why quit? Sal, it wasn’t your fault I disappeared.” No one could have predicted what had happened to her in upper world – it had been part and parcel of Riga’s affliction.

  “That’s not why. The journey we took together last night, all those years ago... I’ve never had a journey that vivid on my own.”

  “Not even the time you lost your finger?”

  “You make it sound like I misplaced it,” she snapped. “It was bitten off. And no. Losing the finger was pretty damn vivid, but it snapped me out of the vision, so the vividness was all on the real world end: blood and screaming.”

  “Sorry.”

  “You should be. You just gave it up, like shamanism wasn’t good enough for you.”

  “That wasn’t—”

  “I know. The problem was my ego, not you. I’m a damned good shaman. I’ve helped a lot of people. But I resented you for a long time.”

  Ahead, the light turned red.

  “It wasn’t fair. I’m sorry.” Sal accelerated toward the intersection, the road swooping downward toward the stopped traffic.

  Riga squirmed with discomfort. “You don’t have anything to apologize for.”

  “Maybe, maybe not.” She pursed her lips. “Let’s just say I’ve been rethinking a lot of things. So why did you disappear?” Sal asked.

  A part of her wanted to tell Sal, confess, get absolution. But she knew telling the shaman what she’d done in the upper world wouldn’t make her feel better, would only make Sal feel worse. The only person who could erase Riga’s shame was Rig
a.

  The Jaguar picked up speed.

  “Uh, that’s a red light,” Riga said.

  “I...” Sal paled, stomped hard on the brake pedal. “It’s not stopping.” She downshifted, yanked the parking brake. The car hurtled forward.

  “Sal?” Riga braced a hand on the dashboard.

  “I don’t know what’s wrong!”

  Riga’s stomach lurched. The cross traffic was thick and fast. Cars ahead of them bunched at the light. A group of school children skipped through the yellow crosswalk, laughing.

  The rear of a pickup loomed before them, seconds away.

  Riga grabbed the wheel, pulled to the right, and the car was spinning, a slow motion pirouette. The world cascaded past: cars, trees, buildings. And then the car hit a low pile of dirty snow, slewed sideways. It stopped inches from a stand of pines.

  The women breathed heavily, and looked at each other, wide eyed.

  “What was the number of that tow truck?” Sal wheezed.

  Thor banged on their window. “You okay?” he shouted.

  Riga rolled it down. “We’re fine.”

  He shook his head. “Axel’s bent. You need a tow. I’ll call.”

  A tow truck rumbled to a halt beside them twenty minutes later. Riga felt oddly relieved that it was a different driver.

  The man was hooking the Jaguar to his truck when Ash drove up in his SUV and stepped out. Wordlessly, Ash unlatched the hood, peered inside.

  He slammed the hood down, stood back while the tow driver cranked the front end of the Jaguar into the air.

  “Hold up,” Ash said when the front end reached a thirty degree incline. “I want to check something out.” He dropped to the snow, wriggled beneath the Jaguar. Thor rested his hand on the fender, and bent, peering at Ash beneath.

  When Ash emerged, his mouth was set in a grim line. He and Thor spoke in low tones, then Ash gave the driver a card. “Take the car here.”

  “Hey!” Sal said. “It’s my car.”

  “I know the owner of the garage, want him to check something out. Your car’s been tampered with. He needs to verify it, get a police report.”

  “How can you tell?” Sal asked.

  “I’ve rigged cars before.”

  “Oh,” she said in a small voice.

  He smiled mirthlessly. “Line of duty, sanctioned by Uncle Sam. I’ll drive you back to your cabin. Thor will follow. That is where you’re going, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah,” Riga said. “Thanks.”

  Ash drove them to Sal’s, and he and Thor walked them up the steps to the front door.

  Sal rummaged in her purse, patted her pockets. Her head dropped to her chest. “I left my keys in the Jaguar.”

  Riga groaned.

  “You got a spare?” Ash asked.

  “There’s a key hidden beneath the deck,” Sal said. “I’ll get it.” She ran down the wooden steps and around the corner.

  Ash glowered at Riga.

  “I didn’t do this either,” she said.

  “I know.”

  “Well, you look like you want to rip my head off.”

  “Habit. Nothing personal.”

  Thor snorted.

  Sal ran up the wooden steps, holding the key triumphantly between her fingers. “Got it!”

  “Sal?” Riga asked, “How many people know about that spare key?”

  “All of us do.” She unlocked the door. “The cabin owner told me where it was, and since people were coming in at all times and I wasn’t sure if there’d be someone around to open the door, I told all the guests. Why?”

  Ash and Thor shared a wry look.

  “You’re a good woman, Sal,” Ash said, “but you’ve got to be more careful about keys and access.”

  “They’re all guests. They’re supposed to have access to the cabin.”

  He shook his head. “Next time we’re alone, I’m giving you my personal security lecture.”

  “Oh, goodie,” Sal muttered. But her eyes brightened.

  Ash left them to check on the cars at the garage, and the two women went upstairs to Riga’s book-lined room. They left Thor lurking downstairs, reading a fishing magazine.

  Cross-legged, Riga sat upon the divan. Triangles of gray light fell across her lap through the paned, octagonal window.

  The shaman lowered herself into the desk chair, and swiveled to face her. “Tell me about this patient, the shadows.”

  Twinkling lights gathered at the corners of Riga’s vision, and she grit her teeth. Faeries were attracted to Sal like flies to honey. Riga resisted the urge to swat at them.

  “That ghost I told you about,” Riga said, “I think she may have been murdered, but she’s confused, not talking. And those shadows we encountered in lower world – I’ve seen them go after her.”

  Sal leaned forward, and the chair creaked beneath her. “How did she react?”

  “She was scared. She ran, and I can’t say I blame her.”

  “You say she’s confused?”

  “Yeah. Her spirit in the casino doesn’t seem at all aware of its surroundings. She’s just replaying the same event, over and over.”

  “That may actually work in our favor. How much do you know about integrating the shadow?”

  Riga shrugged. “Just the basics of Jungian theory. The shadow represents the parts of ourselves we reject, that we tend to project onto others. To become a fully actualized person, you need to embrace your dark parts as well.”

  “Right. So all you need to do is go down there, feel some love for those shadows, and bring them into the light.”

  Riga shook her head. “I was never very good at feeling love in the abstract, and those shadows aren’t particularly lovable.”

  Sal leaned back, frowning. “Well, you have to.”

  “There’s got to be another way. I don’t even like my own shadow.”

  The shaman sighed heavily. “Fine. Think you can at least muster some acceptance for them?”

  Riga tilted her head, considering. “Probably.”

  Sal went into the bedroom, returning with a bouquet of dried sage and lavender. She held it to her nose, and inhaled deeply.

  The shaman opened the desk drawer, pulled out a pack of matches and lit one, holding it to the dried herbs. When the flames caught, she blew them out, watching the smoke curl upward. Satisfied, she waved the smoking bundle in the corners, by the doors and windows, smudging the room.

  The fae scattered.

  “Fae-repellant – good to know.” Riga filed that away.

  Sal gave her a hard look. “The fae hate smoke. I don’t mind their tricks when I’m alone, but I don’t want them interfering with our journey.”

  Riga coughed, and waved her hand in front of her face.

  “The shadow is part of the subconscious,” Sal said, ignoring her, “but if your ghost is that unaware, there may be a missing piece to her consciousness too. If we can bring those pieces together down below, her consciousness might be able to join up with whatever is haunting the casino.”

  Riga nodded. First repair the subconscious, then tackle the conscious. It could work. Maybe.

  Sal crushed the sage out in an abalone shell. “Let’s call the corners.”

  Riga rose, and together they called each corner, the center.

  “You lie on the floor,” Sal said. “I’ll take the divan.”

  Riga grabbed a velvety pillow off the chair, and slid to the rug with a sneeze. Dust bunnies had collected beneath the low couch.

  Sal stretched her length along the divan, and set a music player on the shelf beside her. She dangled one arm off the couch, lightly touching Riga’s shoulder, and with her free hand, tapped a button on the player. The sound of drumming filled the room.

  Riga closed her eyes. “Same entry point?”

  “The roots of that pine tree. I’ll see you when you get there.”

  Riga focused on the drumbeat, let it carry her. The pine was there, splintering the asphalt, and then she was in the underground passag
e, white roots dangling above her head. An earthworm wriggled past.

  Sal stood waiting, tapping her foot. “Let’s go.”

  They pounded down the rough tunnel, emerging on the lakeshore. Above the hills rose an orange sun, pinking the sky, and lightening the mountains to the color of a bruise.

  The floating dock was gone, the still lake reflecting the sky like a mirror.

  “Which way now?” Riga asked.

  Sal hummed, eyes half closed. “Patience.”

  But Riga couldn’t be patient. The drumbeat pounded in her blood. She wanted to move, to run.

  Branches snapped in the forest behind her, and Riga froze. Something big. The skin prickled on the back of Riga’s neck. Heavy breathing.

  She told herself to trust in Sal. It was just lower world. She was with a shaman. Nothing could physically hurt her here.

  Her gaze dropped to Sal’s maimed hand, and faith evaporated.

  Fists clenched, Riga turned towards the forest, to face it, whoever it was.

  The bushes quivered. Leaves rained from the trees, an impossible mix of pine and something big leafed and tropical. She took a careful step back, her foot twisting beneath her on the sand.

  A dark shape rose from the bushes. Its fur was matted, its eyes yellow and feral. The bear roared, and a cascade of leaves pelted downward. Riga’s stomach turned to jelly.

  Smiling, the shaman opened her arms. “Bear!”

  It dropped to its forelegs and shambled over to Sal, nudged her with its nose.

  The shaman laughed delightedly, ruffling its fur. “This is bear. He’ll take us where we need to go.”

  “You sure he knows where we need to go?”

  In answer, the bear turned, plowing a gap through the underbrush.

  “After you,” Riga said.

  The shaman grinned. “Coward.” She skipped through the passage.

  Riga hesitated, looking over her shoulder. Sunrise had already gone, the sky now a whitish blue. Time passed quickly here, perhaps in time to the drumbeat? A mystery for another day. She plunged into the forest.

  The bear moved swiftly, flattening ferns and crushing fallen branches in its path. Water pooled in its tracks.