Medium in Paradise: A Humorous Paradise Romance by Tabby Moray

sat back down. He still looked shocked.
    “Yes Detective, a Medium.”
    “So when you were talking outside in the hallway, you weren’t alone?”
    “There was someone standing there just as clearly as you’re standing in front of me right now. They just weren’t visible to the naked eye.”
    Then there was fear mingled with more disbelief…
    “I—I heard her.” His words were hesitant, understanding dawning in his eyes. Dina sat up straighter. Now this reaction was surprising. “The voice said, ‘I can show you easier than I can tell you.’ then that was it. At first I thought I must’ve been hearing things. Then I thought back to our…first meeting and now it all makes sense. Go figure…”
    Usually this was when people either started laughing in nervous disbelief, or when they lied saying ‘They were cool with that’, then left, never to be seen again. But not him. He was straying from the script. He seemed to be accepting of her unusual gifts.
    “Detective Barney Nichols, when I choose to tell people I’m a Medium, most people go running for the hills. But not you. Why is that?” She sipped at her coffee, watching him.
    “I may be a detective but I’m not closed to understanding that there are things about this world that can’t be explained away by science.”
    “Aren’t you open-minded,” she drawled, offhandedly taking another sip of her coffee. Her heart was racing for some inexplicable reason, his receptiveness to her abilities oddly disconcerting.
    “I am open-minded. I watch A Haunted and Paranormal Witness . In fact, I DVR them,” he said with a sniff.
    “Is that so?” Dina chuckled into her coffee. She felt an uncontrollable fit of laughter bubbling up which she controlled by biting down on her lip.
    “Yes, it is. For instance, I know that children are often open to seeing spirits because they’re still innocent. I also know that spirits sometimes can be removed from a house, but sometimes they can’t. And I know that sometimes people can hear a spirit, but they can’t see them. Like what happened the other day.”
    “That’s all very true,” she said, warily. She’d forgotten about the other type of people she’d met: those who believed in her gifts and thought they were experts on the paranormal because of all the ghost hunter and paranormal reality shows. She hoped Detective Barney Nichols didn’t fall into that category. “But you got one thing wrong: all spirits can be removed from a house so long as competent people are called in to remove them. It’s demons that may require more…finesse.”
    “Demons? They really exist?”
    “Very much so. And they’re very dangerous. I’m surprised you’re saying this considering you’re clearly Native American--,”
    “Cherokee,” he corrected her automatically. “I’m Cherokee. And what does that mean? You’re surprised?”
    “I mean that I was under the impression that—that Cherokee people and Native Americans in general, held beliefs that included an understanding that demons exist. Am I wrong?”
    “We don’t necessarily believe that demons exist, but we acknowledge that evil exists and by proxy, I guess that could include a demon.”
    “And ghosts? What do you think about them?”
    “We believe that our ancestors turn into ghosts when they die. So we don’t necessarily view them as bad. I guess that’s why I’m open to you being able to talk to the dead. The dead exist. So why not? With that said, the majority of us, like most people, have never seen one.”
    “Interesting. You are very interesting,” she said, thoughtfully.
    “Am I?”
    “I’ve never met anyone like you outside of my family.”
    “That must mean something, huh?” he asked, a gleam in his eye.
    “Maybe,” she said, thinking that maybe she was talking too much.
    “So who were you talking to?”
    She opened her mouth, then closed it. Should she tell him it was the spirit of his dead fiancée or should she save that for a later