Клеа Саймон - An Incantation Of Cats

Whatever its impetus, the mood was broken when the two humans arrived at the colorful storefront to find the lights out and the closed sign posted in the window.

“I guess they couldn’t get anyone to cover for Gaia.” Becca peeked in, between a ram and a lopsided bull. Although she couldn’t see any movement, the back storeroom appeared to be lit. “I could go to Margaret’s apartment, but I was hoping to catch Elizabeth.”

“You want to try around the back?” Tiger followed her gaze. “I’ll stay here in case anyone shows up.”

“Thanks.” She flashed him a grin and took off toward the alley, her unseen cat at her heels.

“Elizabeth?” A minute later, she was knocking on the back door. “Are you in there? It’s Becca.” She waited, then pressed her ear against the gray metal. Being a cat, Clara didn’t need such proximity to know that nothing stirred inside. “I’d like to talk to you, if you have a moment.”

She stepped back and brushed her hair off her face. But nobody came to the door, and after another round of knocking, Becca retreated back to the street.

“I guess I’m going to have to try the apartment,” she said, as much to herself as to Tiger. “I wonder if Elizabeth is avoiding me?”

“If she has something to hide, she might be afraid of you.” The thought didn’t seem to please her companion, and he frowned as he fussed over his bike. “I don’t know if you should confront her, Becca.”

“I’m not going to confront her.” Becca stressed the word. “I want to talk to her. I want to find out what was going on with Frank. Elizabeth seemed to have some insight into her brother-in-law, so maybe she knows why he was planning on running away.”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Tiger looked up in disbelief.

“You mean, to be with Gaia? I don’t think so.” Becca’s stare fixed on a point somewhere beyond her companion. “I think something else was going on.”

“Like maybe his wife was sick of him fooling around?” That earned him a scowl, and he put his hands up in surrender. “Sorry,” he said. “Just pointing out the facts. But aren’t the cops looking into all the angles?”

“I don’t know,” Becca confessed. “I mean, they warned me away from trying to help Gaia, but she’s told me things. And I really don’t want to get Elizabeth in trouble if she was just trying to protect Gaia from herself.”

Tiger’s brows went up at that. “Protect her from herself?”

“Yeah, didn’t I tell you? It was Elizabeth who told Gaia that her plant was poisonous. Gaia didn’t even realize what she had.”

“That’s what she told you?” Becca couldn’t read Tiger’s expression, and neither could Clara. Once again, she wished she had Laurel’s power. “Well, I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s gotten rid of it now.”

“What do you mean?” Becca put her hand on Tiger’s handlebars to stop him as he turned away. “Gotten rid of it now ?”

“Elizabeth’s not telling you the truth—or not the whole truth,” he said, his voice disconcertingly matter-of-fact. “She took the plant, whatever she says. I saw it in the back room of the shop the last time I went to visit Gaia. I guess Gaia didn’t recognize it, or maybe it was after she was fired.” He paused, his eyes going wide. “Maybe that’s why Gaia was fired.”

“You’ve got to tell the cops that, Tiger. This is serious.”

He shook off the idea. “My ex gets fired and suddenly I’m accusing the owner of attempted murder? Besides, I was never supposed to be back there. Gaia used to sneak me in sometimes late at night—she had a way in through the window and showed me how. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. That old crow probably got rid of it. But, hey, you could ask the cops to check it out.”

To her credit, Becca took a moment, chewing on her lip as she considered the option. “No,” she said at last. “They’ve already warned me off. Besides, I don’t have any proof.”

“But you’re really resourceful.” Clara could feel Becca flush slightly at the compliment. But Tiger wasn’t done. “Maybe you could find a way to look for it. I don’t think you’d be able to miss it. It’s pretty distinctive, with those poisonous blue flowers and all.”

“Maybe.” Becca didn’t look thrilled at the idea. “But now, I’d better go beard the lion—or the lioness—in her den. And I should do this alone.”

Clara expected him to protest, but he only nodded. “Good luck. Let me know how it goes. On top of everything else, now I’m curious. If Elizabeth did dump that plant, when did she get rid of it? And if not, why do you think she’s been keeping it? And where? You should be careful, Becca.”

“I will be,” said Becca, her mouth set in a determined line. “And thanks.”

Chapter 30

Becca watched him pedal off before she headed down to Margaret’s apartment. Clara might not have Laurel’s skill, but she thought that her person looked a little wistful as well as curious. Wistful, the calico understood. This Tiger might be a tad odd, but he was trying to help, in his way, and he’d spent a good chunk of his afternoon with Becca. The curiosity was more than the cat could figure out. Her person was both sweet and warm, and to Clara it was no wonder why a man would want to get close to her. Surely, despite her searching gaze, staring back at the way Tiger had ridden, Becca must understand that much.

For now, Becca’s thoughts were her own, and so Clara trotted along, tail up, when she rang the apartment bell and, soon after, made her way up those stairs.

“Becca!” Margaret’s dark eyes widened with surprise. Clad in a velour track suit, she appeared even smaller than she had the last time Becca had seen her.

“I’m sorry to disturb you.” She truly was, Clara could tell from her posture as well as her voice. “I know these last few days must have been difficult.”

“Thank you.” The widow collapsed against the doorframe, suddenly appearing both older and smaller than usual. “It’s bad enough that Frank is gone, but all the fuss.” She bent her head, exposing the white roots of her part, and Clara could feel her person’s resolve crumble.

“I am so, so sorry.”

The widow accepted the condolences, the white line bobbing briefly.

“Are you—I’m sorry, you must be caught up in funeral plans?”

“No.” One syllable shared with the doorframe. “Not yet.” Margaret cleared her throat, her voice growing stronger. “We’ll have a service, some kind of memorial, at some point. They—the police still have him. They’re doing tests…” Her voice trailed off again as one hand waved her sentence to completion.

“That’s part of what I was hoping to talk to you about,” Becca ventured, the effort audible in her voice. “Or Elizabeth, really.”

“Elizabeth?” Margaret’s head popped up and those big eyes blinked. “Why?”

“I gather she might have some insight into what happened.” When Margaret didn’t respond, Becca kept talking. “With Gaia.”

“You can’t still think that I… That Frank…” A second wave of fatigue seemed to wash over her, deflating her once again as she stepped back, opening the door to her visitor. “Whatever,” she said, her voice flat. “You might as well come in.”

“Thanks.” Clara slipped in alongside Becca and followed her through to the sunlit living room. The space appeared much as it had the other day, although Becca made a more careful examination of the plants on the sill. “Let me get my tea,” Margaret said, her voice flat, as she walked through to the kitchen. “You want some?”

“Ah, no, thanks,” Becca called back. “I really just had a few questions.”

“What do you want to know?” Margaret returned holding a mug that smelled strongly of peppermint. She sipped, watching Becca over the mug, her eyes dry.