Shiver : 13 Sexy Tales of Humor and Horror - Aurora Belle (читать книги онлайн бесплатно полные версии TXT) 📗

More business was always welcome. The sleepy, small town of Pleasant Valley didn’t have a huge ration of crime, but he did all right. Caught up in the chase to find the runaway girl, he’d missed an appointment with a new client the night before and needed to call and make amends. Maybe he’d offer to take the guy out to lunch. His empty stomach rumbled at the thought of a greasy cheeseburger and fries.

A flash of color caught his eye, and he sighed at the dark-haired woman standing in front of Finney Investigations. Just looking at her, he knew she brought trouble. Another thing he didn’t need today. Most days he’d be happy to start his morning with a woman at his door, but this one wore a flowing purple robe and a bright-colored scarf tied around her long hair. All she was missing was the pointed hat with a spider dangling from the edge.

Today was Halloween, but unfortunately she wasn’t in costume.

This was how she dressed every day. The color of her robe changed, but her style didn’t. She called herself Madame Zia, and she wasn’t a client; she was his neighbor and a certifiable kook.

Her office sat down the hall from his, her door declaring her a renowned psychic who offered to read palms and tarot cards. She claimed to offer enlightenment, but his experience with psychics taught him that the only thing they “lightened” was the wallet of anyone gullible enough to want their services.

They’d been office neighbors for close to a year now, but he didn’t think they’d ever spoken more than a few words as they’d passed in the hall. So why was she standing at his door, wringing her hands and looking like a 17th-century damsel in distress? Maybe someone had stolen her crystal ball.

“Can I help you with something?” He nodded at her outfit. “Aren’t you running late for Potions class at Hogwarts?”

She raised an eyebrow, revealing the deep green of her eyes. He’d never stood this close to her before, and damned if she wasn’t kind of pretty. “I’ve already taken Potions and mastered Magic 101.” She let out an annoyed sigh. “Not very original, Mr. Finney.”

Touche. At least she had a sense of humor. He nodded. “Call me Finn.”

“We seem to have a problem, Finn.” She pointed to the door of his office, which stood slightly ajar, the wooden molding splintered.

“Son of a bitch.” He moved to stand between her and the door, and tilted his head to peer through the open crack. “Did you call the cops?”

“No, I just got here. My door looks the same. I was getting ready to call the police when I noticed your office had been broken into as well, and then you walked in.”

He dropped the paper and the empty coffee cup and pushed her protectively behind him. “Stay here.” Instinct took over, and he reached for the gun strapped into the harness across his shoulder. Holding it in front of him, he nudged the door open with his foot and cautiously stepped inside.

His one-room office had been ransacked. Papers and files spilled off the desk and onto the floor. The painting on his wall now hung upside down. It looked as if a strong wind had swept the room.

The remains of a fast-food lunch were strewn around the overturned wastebasket, and a pool of soda soaked into the rug. His file cabinet drawers stood open and had obviously been searched.

“What the hell?” Plaster dust littered the floor, and he peered up to see one of his office chairs hanging upside down, one leg firmly embedded in the ceiling. “How did that get up there? Somebody must have been on drugs to do that.” He glanced around the room. “Whoever did this is gone now. It’s too messy to tell for sure, but I don’t see anything missing.”

He crossed to the big oak desk and tried the drawers. “My desk is still locked, and that’s where I keep anything of value.”

Hearing no response, he looked up only to realize he spoke to an empty room. Madame Zia had vanished.

Zia hurried down the hall to her office. Fear gripped her throat. She recognized the type of destruction in the private eye’s office. The presence of evil oozed from the walls, and she feared the same manifestation would be waiting for her.

She probably should have waited for Finn; he had the gun, after all. But no gun was going to help in this instance.

Besides, he acted like such a jerk. He didn’t even know her, and yet the first time they’d actually spoken, he’d mocked her clothes and made a joke at her expense. Who did he think he was?

The private eye had always been aloof, barely acknowledging her as they’d passed in the hall. She’d thought being next door to a private investigator might be exciting, but the times she’d walked by his office window and seen him inside, he’d always had his head bent over the computer, a pair of reading glasses perched on his nose.

It seemed to her that the detective business was fairly boring, and so was the detective.

Although she had to admit a thrill had shot down her spine when he’d pushed her behind him and pulled out his gun. Standing so close to him, his strength had been evident by the way his muscles bulged as he drew his gun. And he smelled amazing.

She’d wanted to close her eyes and inhale his aftershave, the musky scent doing funny things to her insides. A small scar lay under his ear, and she’d been tempted to run her finger down the white line and then along his neck.

The boring, sandy-haired detective was younger than she’d first assumed, probably in his early thirties. Close to the same age, she wouldn’t be caught dead in a pair of reading glasses. The ones he wore made him look older and hid a fairly handsome face.

She’d always been a little intrigued by him, but his stodgy demeanor and standoffish attitude had made attempts at getting to know him almost impossible.

Now she knew he hadn’t been worth the effort. Not only did he seem boring, but he acted stuck-up as well. Then what had her fantasizing about running her fingers along the scar on his neck and still smelling his scent?

His reaction to the office break-in had been the most excitement she’d seen in him since they’d met. But this was not the kind of excitement she needed in her life.

Her office contained more than just a workspace. It was her sanctuary. The place where she offered help to the needy and healing to the broken.

Her business meant everything to her. She’d worked hard to create a soothing environment filled with positive energy. It was decorated in jewel tones with a mystical motif, and the comfy furniture and a trickling fountain made her clients feel at ease. Bookshelves lined the walls, filled with old spell books, candles, and baskets and jars holding crystals and herbs.

She eased open the door and gasped at the broken glass and destruction of the room. It looked like a tornado had spun through the room. She took in the bright red sprays of blood spattered across the gold-painted walls and let loose a scream of terror.

Finn rushed down the hall. The woman really was crazy. Still, he didn’t want her to get hurt. Who knew if the guy who did this was still around?

A blood-curdling scream filled the air. He reached for his gun and sprinted for the psychic’s door.

Zia crashed into him, throwing her arms around his waist. Her warm body trembled in his arms. “There’s blood. So much blood. Someone was murdered in my office.”

He gave her a reassuring squeeze then gently pushed her behind him as he cautiously approached her door. “Stay behind me. I’ll check it out.”

He’d seen his share of blood in his years as a cop, but his concern lay more in the worry that the perpetrator was still in there.

A single glance inside showed the chaos of the destroyed room. Glass had been shattered and books and trinkets lay scattered around the floor. But what he didn’t see was blood. Not a trace.