Клеа Саймон - An Incantation Of Cats

“I’m sure you’re right.” Clara knew it made more sense to humor her sister than to argue. “But, Laurel, why are you here?”

“Because of Tiger, of course.” The blue eyes were momentarily veiled as Laurel dipped her head. “I knew he would come after Becca and I wanted to see what would happen.”

“You wanted to influence her.” The words slipped out, as the truth will. “Laurel, we don’t know this man.”

“We know he likes her.” Even muted, Laurel’s voice rose in that distinctive Siamese yowl. “You heard what he just said.”

Clara didn’t respond. Instead, she turned to look out at Becca. On her knees only feet away, she was reaching for a small silver object she must have fished out from underneath the couch. As Clara watched, she stood, handing the metal tool to the orderly, and Clara couldn’t suppress a slight purr. Her person was always helping others.

“That’s why I want what’s best for her, too.” Laurel’s voice, softer now, broke into Clara’s reverie. “I know you love her. We all do. But, little sister, believe it or not, hanging out with us is not the way she should spend her life.”

“I know.” Clara sighed, her purr dying away. “If only we knew this Tiger better.”

“Well, now’s our chance.”

Clara felt a damp nudge as Laurel nosed her ear. She turned to look at the young man, who had hung back even as Becca had raced forward, his pale face unreadable. Was that rejection, Clara wondered? Or was he simply unsure how to approach the woman he had just bared his soul to? A quick sniff might answer some questions, Clara realized. But as she started toward him, another familiar voice boomed out and sent her scurrying under the nearest chair.

“Becca? Becca Colwin?” The detective had emerged from the double doors. “Oh, good, you’re still here.”

“What is it?” Becca stood and started, looking past him at those doors. “Is it Gaia?”

“A moment, please.” The detective motioned her forward with a scoop of his big hand.

Becca turned back, to take in Tiger. But he had gone deathly pale and only nodded. And with that, she turned and followed the detective back into the treatment area, with Clara close behind.

***

“What’s happened?” Even as the doors were swinging shut behind them, Becca was demanding answers. “Please tell me. Is Gaia…is she going to be okay?”

Instead of escorting her back to that fourth cubicle on the left, the detective herded Becca over toward the right, where two chairs faced an empty bed.

“Why don’t you have a seat?”

“No.” The edge to Becca’s voice made Clara’s ears tilt back, even if she understood her person’s impatience. “Not until you tell me what’s going on with Gaia.”

The big head bowed in assent. “She’s talking,” he said. “So I don’t know for sure, but I figure that means she’s going to be all right.”

“Thank the Goddess.” Becca flopped into one of the chairs and leaned her head on her hands.

“That doesn’t mean you’re out of the woods, young lady.” If anything, the large man’s tone had grown more serious.

“What do you mean?” She swallowed.

“You’ve told me about this Gaia and about Margaret Cross, and yet you failed to disclose that you saw Frank Cross shortly before his death.”

“But I didn’t.” Becca’s voice rose to a pitch reminiscent of Laurel’s.

“We’ve had a report that you were seen at his place of business.” It was a statement of fact, not a question.

“His…” Becca paused to correct herself. “Yes, that’s right. I went down to his car lot. Margaret was really upset and I was hoping to figure out what was going on. But I left without seeing him or speaking to him. I overheard him on the phone. He was in the next room. That’s all.”

The cop waited, silently.

“It sounded like he was talking to his wife, so I left.” It sounded lame. It was also the truth. “It sounded personal, so I thought I should keep out of it.”

If the man in front of her mumbled something about that being a good idea, Becca didn’t hear it. Besides, he had more to say.

“That’s not all, though, young lady. You’re working as a private investigator without a license.” One hand went up to stop her before she could protest. “Don’t argue with me on that. The laws exist for a reason, you know. And one of those reasons is that you’re not equipped to deal with an attempted murder.”

“But it wasn’t.” Becca closed her eyes. “Gaia just faked it because she wanted to get Margaret in trouble. That’s all.”

“Faked it?” Those large eyes scanned Becca’s face. “You were by her bed when she nearly crashed just now, Becca. Do you really think that was faked?”

“No.” Becca shook her head, staring at the empty bed as if the answer would be found there. “I’m sorry. The first time. She was trying to frame Margaret.”

“We know.” Abrams sounded tired. “We understand that there was bad blood between the women even before Mrs. Cross’s husband was killed.”

“But you can’t think that Margaret… She loved her husband…”

“I’m not saying anything. It’s not my place to charge anyone with a crime. We will be talking with Ms. Linquist, and we have people at her apartment looking into what may have sickened her at this moment.” The detective leaned forward, bringing his large dog-like face close to Becca’s. “Which is our job. This is serious, Ms. Colwin. People are being hurt, and you are not qualified to investigate who is doing it or why.”

“But I’m part of their community.” Clara could see that Becca was struggling to explain without seeming like a flake or, worse, a dilettante. At times like this, she wished she could rub against her person’s shins, or even jump into her lap and butt her head into Becca’s hand, knowing that whenever her person massaged the velvet base of her ears, they both felt so much better. “And I promised them.” Her voice had a dying fall that broke Clara’s heart. “I promised to help and be fair to everyone.”

“I understand.” The detective didn’t attempt any physical contact, but a certain warmth in his voice made Clara think that maybe he did comprehend some of what her person was saying. “And I’m glad of it. After all,” he said, hands on those tree-trunk thighs as he pushed himself out of the plastic chair, “that might be the only reason you’re still alive.”

Chapter 25

“That’s ridiculous!” Becca spoke with a sharpness that set Clara’s ears back. It wasn’t just her tone. While it was true that Becca was addressing a nurse who had, in fact, been ignoring her repeated requests to be let in to see Gaia. And it was also true that this nurse was now staring at her computer monitor like Becca was no longer standing right in front of her, the uniformed woman who was very clearly avoiding Becca’s fierce gaze really hadn’t earned this rather loud outburst of temper. Not from Clara’s normally very polite person.

Her ordinarily sweet young woman was at the breaking point, the calico realized, bringing her ears back up to a perky point, and she believed she understood why. When the stout police officer had first called Becca’s name, she had seemed to welcome the interruption. Tiger’s declaration, as flattering as it might be, had disconcerted Becca, Clara could tell, if in a different kind of way. As he had spoken, her cheeks had pinked up, and she had looked down and then away, unable to find the right response.

However, the respite the detective offered had proved short-lived and maybe, her pet realized, not altogether welcome. He had cowed her, especially when he implied that she might be at risk legally because of her attempts to set herself up as a private investigator. The suggestion that she might be in danger had thrown her, too, although after he had walked away, she had muttered something about how he was simply trying to scare her away from the case.