Клеа Саймон - An Incantation Of Cats

“No, you don’t have to.” Becca seemed to be talking her friend down from something as she race-walked into Central Square. “I’ll call you as soon as I know what’s going on. I promise.”

To Clara’s relief, the young woman shoved the phone in her pocket and actually looked around as she readied to cross Mass Ave. with its constant traffic. Down the block, Clara could see the red brick building that housed the magic shop and the Cross’s apartment, as well as the blue-and-white Cambridge police cruiser out front.

“Excuse me.” Becca began to work her way through the crowd of onlookers who blocked the store’s brightly painted window. “I’m trying to reach the apartments.”

A uniformed officer stood by the recessed entrance, blocking the building’s metal door. “Are you a resident?”

“No, but I know a woman—”

“Residents only.” He resumed his sentry position, staring over her head once more.

Becca stepped back as another couple pushed forward, either to try their luck or to pass through the crowd. Clara, who had hung back to avoid getting stepped on, saw Becca focus on Charm and Cherish. From this side, she could see the shop’s colorful glass window and the lights that signaled it was occupied, if not open for business. Those lights seemed to draw Becca, and Clara couldn’t help worrying as her person turned and began to make for the little shop’s door.

“Gaia!” Becca called, and waved, perching on her toes to be seen above the crowd. Inside, behind the zodiac symbols, Clara could now see the black-haired shop girl talking to a man in a trench coat. “Over here!”

In the shop, the man had stepped away, and Gaia resumed her customary slump back against the wall, with its shelves of leaves and roots. Seeing an opening, Becca stepped forward, until a hand reached out to stop her.

“I wouldn’t.” Tall and lean, with black bangs that hung over a pale and serious face, he smelled vaguely familiar to Clara. Something about him must have gotten Becca’s attention, too, the calico realized, as her person peered up at him.

“Excuse me?” She pulled her arm away as she spoke.

“I’m sorry.” The flash of a grin as he ducked his head in an apology that even Harriet would understand. “I just…I think maybe it’s better to stay out of this.”

“But I know Gaia,” Becca started to explain. “I mean, not well. I’ve been helping her. It’s complicated.” Becca turned back to the shop, which now appeared to be empty. Gaia and her interrogator had either stepped into the back or left through another exit.

“I get it.” That smile again. Almost wolfish, Clara thought, especially against that dark hair. “Things with Gaia can be complicated.” If he didn’t exactly roll his eyes, he came close, before covering by brushing his hair back from his face.

“You know her? Wait, you’re the bike messenger. The one who almost ran me over yesterday.”

“I did? Gee, I’m sorry.” His light blue eyes widened, dominating his pale face. “Really. Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Now it was Becca’s turn to chuckle. “I guess neither of us were paying attention.” She paused to take in the man before her. That hair, which could have come from the same dye package Gaia used, tended to distract from his prominent cheekbones and a generous mouth set in a serious line. “You’re not Tiger, are you?”

He paused, regarding her with those icy blue eyes.

“I should explain,” Becca rushed ahead. “Gaia told me she had a friend who was concerned for her.” Clara noticed her use of the word “friend.” She also saw the smile that had returned to the young man’s pale face as he turned, once more, to take in the woman in front of him.

“Yeah, I guess I had reason to worry, huh?” As the import of his own words had hit him, the last of the grin disappeared. “Man, poor Gaia.” He shook his head as they both regarded the colorful shop window. “So, I think I’m missing something.” He turned away, and his face fell into shadow. “You said you were helping her?”

Becca nodded slowly, a contemplative look coming over her. “She hired me because she was worried about—about something. But she didn’t expect this.”

“No, she didn’t.” He must have seen the sadness there, because he reached out to gently brush her arm once more, and Clara saw long fingers with nails bitten down to the quick.

“I’m Becca, by the way.” She looked down at his hand, which dropped to his side. “She didn’t say anything about hiring me?”

“She…” He shook his head. “No, I’m sorry.”

“She implied that maybe you two weren’t spending as much time together.”

An embarrassed laugh as he wiped that hand over his face. “Yeah, well, you know.”

“I do.” Becca’s voice grew soft, and Clara knew she was thinking of her own on-again-off-again ex, as well as the young man she had dated a few times last spring. Laurel always had a lot to say about human romances, but Clara thought their person was only being sensible to be so careful with her heart. “I’m glad you came over when you heard about Frank.”

Becca paused, as if listening to her own words. “Did she call you?”

“No.” That half-smile again as he shook off the idea. “I wish, but I was just in the area and saw all this.” One wave took in the police, as well as the crowd.

“You must have been worried.”

A shrug. “She told me he had a bad ticker. It’s too bad, though. Poor guy. I don’t think we’re going to get to see her. Not this morning, anyway.”

Becca scanned the crowd. The storefront remained as bright and still as a museum diorama, and although the crowd was beginning to disperse, the uniformed cop standing in front of the residential entrance seemed in no hurry to follow.

“No, I guess you’re right.” Becca sighed with frustration. “Though this seems like an awful lot of fuss if he simply had a heart attack.”

“You call 9-1-1, they send out all the emergency services. Especially if the caller isn’t clear.” He shrugged, then turned toward her, brightening with inspiration. “Hey, why I don’t take your number? If I hear something, I’ll give you a ring.”

“Thanks.” Becca smiled back automatically, though she forced her face back into something more somber as she punched her digits into his phone. “I don’t know how this will effect Gaia, but if you do get to speak with her, please let her know I’m on the case.”

Chapter 11

“Tiger, huh?” Laurel was at her slinkiest, weaving herself around Becca’s legs as soon as the young woman returned home. “I always liked tigers…”

“Please. ” Clara sat back, restraining her tail by wrapping it around her paws. It was bad enough that her sister read her thoughts. To have Laurel interrupt her as she filled her sisters in on the strange encounter was unnerving, to say the least. “We don’t know this man, and he may still be involved with that other girl, the client.”

“Don’t be a kitten,” her sinuous sister purred. “He was interested in our Becca. I’m picking up traces of his interest still! He touched her, didn’t he?” Before Clara could even answer, Laurel continued. “That’s how they show their interest, silly! He wants to claim her as his own.”

“Nonsense!” As Becca stepped carefully over her furry welcoming committee, they were joined by Harriet, who was having none of this. “Becca is our person,” she huffed, lifting her foreshortened nose up to sniff Becca’s hand. “If this Tiger wants a person, he can very well get his own.”

Clara couldn’t have agreed more and stepped back to give Harriet pride of place as the small party proceeded into the kitchen. She remembered all too well how sad Becca had been when her last romance had ended. And although their person had gone out a few times with a local painter—Clara had enjoyed the tangy pine smell of the turpentine he used—Becca had cooled on him recently.