Confused, Finn gently pulled the trembling woman into the room. “I don’t see anything. Show me where you saw the blood.”

Zia shook her head, a baffled expression on her face. “It’s gone now.”

“What do you mean it’s gone?” Now he really was starting to question this woman’s sanity. The room was a mess, but he didn’t see anything to suggest a murder. “Blood doesn’t just disappear.”

Zia hesitantly stepped further into the room and closed her eyes. She took a deep breath, as if inhaling the atmosphere of the room. “Something terrible happened here. I can feel it. It feels like pure evil, and the color red is very strong.”

Oh brother. What a nut job. “Look, lady, I don’t know what kind of hocus-pocus you get up to in here, but I deal in facts. And the fact is, I don’t see any blood. I don’t feel anything evil, either. This was most likely a simple robbery, since both of our offices got hit. Somebody looking for some easy cash.”

“Oh, really? I thought you were a private investigator. You’re obviously not a very good one.”

He bristled at the insult. “What are you talking about? You don’t even know me or how I operate.”

“Whose fault is that?” she mumbled as she bent to pick up a broken plant that had spilled dirt onto her royal purple rug. She stood, the remains of a shattered pot in her hand. “You’re ignoring the clues. Signs that are right in front of you. The upside-down painting, the chair in the ceiling, the books all over the floor. If you opened your mind for one minute, you would see what’s really happening.”

Distracted by the stretch of bare-skinned leg that she exposed when she bent to retrieve the plant, he tried to refocus on what she’d said. Geez, what had gotten into him? Since when had he been attracted to great ankles? Or ever even noticed ankles? But hers were slim and delicate and had a thin silver chain looped around one.

Why was he letting a little glimpse of skin get to him? He cleared his throat. “I don’t think an upside-down painting is exactly what you’d call a clue. What is it you think I’m missing? If you have it all figured out, why don’t you tell me just what’s going on here, Madame Zia?”

“It’s obvious. Something evil happened here last night. My guess, from the amount of blood splattered around the room, would be a murder. And whoever was murdered is trying to send us a sign.”

What blood? How did she go from scattered files and spilled trash to a murder? “First of all, I don’t see any blood. And I don’t see any signs, except maybe one above your head that’s flashing ‘cuckoo.’”

She rolled her eyes and put a hand on her hip. “Really mature, Mr. Finney. The signs are all around us. This was obviously the work of a spirit trying to send us a message.”

Cuckoo? Change that to cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs. Was she nuts?

She moved to stand behind a long counter, an antique cash register on one end with a grouping of old glass jars next to it. One of the jars had been toppled over, and multicolored velvet bags had spilled across the counter.

She had righted the jar and begun scooping the bags back into it when a spooky sound filled the room. A low groan issued from the cabinet above her head, and her hand stopped in midair, a red velvet bag clutched in her palm.

Another groan, this one an eerie moan followed by a thumping. A shiver ran up Finn’s back, and he automatically held up his weapon. “Get back.”

Before he could stop her, she turned and opened the cabinet door. A streak of black flew out, and she screamed as it skidded across the counter and leapt to the floor.

Zia scooped a black cat into her arms and nuzzled the frightened animal against her. “Poor baby. It’s all right, Sam. Are you hurt?” She held the cat out, as if examining it for injuries.

A black cat? Seriously? “You really might be a witch,” he mumbled.

She whipped her head up, narrowing her eyes. “Did you just call me a bitch?”

“No, no. I said a witch.” He waited for the onslaught of criticism, but was instead rewarded with a grin.

“Oh, well in that case, thank you.”

“Thank you?”

“Yes, thank you for noticing. I am a witch. But not the kind you’re thinking. Not the hunched over, wart-covered crone casting evil curses, with a crow, and a bubbling black cauldron.” She shrugged, then grinned. A crooked grin filled with mischief and a naughty twinkle sparkled in her green eyes. “Well, wait, I guess I do have a black cauldron, but it’s a small one. And I don’t have any warts.”

“Is that why you wear that silly robe? Or are you going to sing in the church choir later?”

She looked down at the robe. “This is mostly for my customers. They expect me to dress the part.” She set the cat on the floor. “So, no, I’m not headed to Hogwarts or choir practice. But for the record, I do have a lovely singing voice.”

He watched her bend. The satiny robe displayed a hint of curves, and he imagined the feel of the satin in his hands. What was wrong with him? Maybe she’d cast a spell on him. A horn-dog spell. Why was he suddenly so intrigued by her robe and envisioning what else she had on under it? Or if she had anything on under it? She said she was a witch. Did she drop the robe to dance naked in the moonlight?

He cleared his throat and shook his head to clear the image of Zia naked in the moonlight. Or naked anywhere. “I don’t believe in all that nonsense. My job involves science and evidence. Not talking to ghosts and magic spells. In my job, I actually help people.”

She cocked an eyebrow at him. “So do I, Finn. That is the purpose of everything in this room. The herbs, the lotions, the crystals. It’s all to help people. I am a white witch, so I spend my energy on healing and helping my clients find peace.” She lifted a corner of the purple robe. “Even this outfit is a way to help my clients. It makes them feel at ease. Like they’re with a professional.”

Oh no. Don’t start thinking about that robe again. “How does your outfit and some fancy rocks help people?”

She shook her head and lowered her voice, as if speaking to a child. “There is a reason behind everything I do. To soothe. To protect. To heal. From reading tarot cards to simply listening is my way of giving comfort and aid. What I do helps my clients find peace or understanding. Do the services you provide offer your clients that?”

“Of course they do. Suspicions can lead to a lot of nasty outcomes, but knowledge is power. Having proof can offer my clients peace too. I don’t just deal with jealous spouses. My firm helps solve crimes, track down killers, and find missing or kidnapped kids. But we deal in evidence and substantiation of proof.”

She stepped closer and looked up at Finn, her voice now combative. “Of course you track down leads, but haven’t you ever heard of intuition or a cop having a gut feeling? Don’t put down what you know nothing about. Plenty of psychics have been used to help solve crimes or aid in police investigations.”

He tried not to look at the way her chest heaved as she argued her case. The zipper of her robe was open just enough to expose the pale crescent of the tops of her breasts as she leaned forward. His mind muddled at the lacy black fabric just visible under the robe, and he couldn’t think of a single argument to oppose what she’d just said. What had she just said?

His phone buzzed in his pocket, saving him from having to form a response.

The voice of his business partner, Jake Landon, sounded in his ear. “Hey, Finn. What’s on tap for today?”

“A little B&E, and I’m afraid we’re the ones who’ve been broken and entered.” Finn absently rubbed his whiskered chin as he spoke, and hoped he could find his spare razor in the mess of his office. “Somebody broke into our office last night and trashed the place.”