Клеа Саймон - An Incantation Of Cats

As if to prove her wrong, Clara walked over to Harriet and nuzzled her oldest sister. It was the least she could do. “Thank you.”

***

“I don’t understand. I was sure…” Becca shook her head. Without her new hat, her curls sprang free. Clara had never seen a more welcome sight. “Anyway, you’re here. All three of you, and now I’ve got to go. I’ve got to meet Detective Abrams and explain everything. The minute this is all settled, though, I’m taking you to the vet.”

“Good job.” Laurel’s retort lacked its usual bite, and Clara looked over at her sister. “Little Miss Know-it-all.”

Harriet, settling back on the carpet, simply closed her eyes and continued with that self-satisfied, healing purr.

“I have to say, this one is coming along rather well.” Laurel watched as, after another round of pets and some treats, Becca found another hat and, with a last backward glance, locked the door behind her.

“Coming along?” Clara looked at her sister. “You mean, she can learn?”

But Laurel only gave the feline equivalent of a shrug. And since Harriet was now sound asleep—snoring, in fact—Clara lifted her tender paw, shimmied her hind quarters, and leaped through the wall to follow their person back down to the street.

“Oh, don’t be silly.” The voice beside her startled Clara, and she landed hard on the sidewalk. Laurel’s presence was unnerving. Even more so was the feel of teeth on her skin as her older sister once again lifted her by the scruff. Sleepiness and that strange tingling, and then they were in Central Square, outside Charm and Cherish, as Becca came up the block.

“How did you…?” Clara twisted around to face her sister.

“Quiet, silly! Listen and learn.”

“Elizabeth!” Becca was banging on the door.

“Calm down, child.” The older sister was opening it, still in her cleaning clothes. “I knew you’d be back. All of you.”

“All? Never mind, I’m here to warn you. A plant, a poisonous plant, has been planted…I mean, someone is trying to frame…”

“Ah, Ms. Colwin.” She stopped talking as a large, familiar man stepped out of the back room. “Why am I not surprised to see you again?”

“I left a message that I’d meet you here.” Becca sounded a bit defensive. “I had to make a stop first.”

“And you thought you’d warn Ms. Elizabeth?” His voice rumbled like a growl. “Tell her to get rid of evidence?”

“It’s a plant.” Becca caught herself. “In both senses. I don’t think Elizabeth took it. I think Tiger, or whatever his real name is, did. He’s had it all along. The real Tiger said he’d seen someone hanging around. He must have stolen it from the shop after hearing Elizabeth lecture Gaia. He thought it might come in handy while he was keeping an eye on Frank Cross. Maybe he knew Elizabeth did some gardening—she had an aloe plant. Maybe he’d seen that and it gave him the idea, and when questions came up about Frank’s death, he tried to frame Margaret and Elizabeth.”

“I think you’re forgetting someone.”

“Gaia? She was an afterthought. Part of his ‘cleanup,’ in case she knew anything. Though I guess he might have wanted it to look like a guilt-ridden suicide attempt.”

Abrams was shaking his head. “No, Becca. You.”

“Me?” Becca blanched, and her hand went to her bag.

But the detective only smiled. “An over-eager amateur poking her nose in where it doesn’t belong could get in trouble, you know.”

Becca’s color turned from pale to pink. “You wouldn’t have known about the license plate without me. Or the wolf’s bane, for that matter.”

“We have Frank Cross’s financial records,” he said gently. “We have a description of the car. We knew he was in over his head.”

“But I gave you Tiger.”

“And I’m not going to prosecute you for soliciting as a private investigator without a license.”

Becca didn’t need Laurel’s suggestion to let the detective have the last word.

Chapter 39

The next few days were crazy, with phone calls and visits from Detective Abrams and his colleagues. Harriet was permanently fluffed with annoyance, and Laurel had taken to sleeping on her perch on the bookshelf, what with all the interruptions. Clara, however, kept closer to her person than ever. She’d seen the hat and remembered all too well how close she’d been to losing her. The plump calico was on the back of the sofa, nuzzling up to Becca’s neck, when Maddy came by with the news.

“They’ve found him. Tiger, that is.” Maddy held out her phone. “Your Tiger, I mean. That’s him, right?”

“Yeah.” Becca’s voice went soft as she read out loud. “That’s him—Thomas O’Hara. ‘A onetime bicycle racer, O’Hara had been disqualified for betting on his own races.’”

On the small screen, Clara could see that wide grin and the jet-black hair that fell over his eyes. Before she could examine the photo more closely, Becca let out a small cry.

“He’s dead,” she said. “Found unresponsive and later pronounced dead. Traces of the same toxic substance that have been linked to both an earlier homicide and an attempted poisoning of a potential witness were found on the victim.’” Becca looked at her friend, eyes wide. “The wolf’s bane.”

“Read on.” Maddy’s voice was grim. “They’re calling it an apparent suicide.”

“Suicide?” Becca didn’t sound convinced. “I remember what he said about his bosses. ‘Men you don’t want to cross.’”

“Either way, good riddance.”

Becca didn’t respond to that, but Clara could see how sad she was, even if her friend chose not to, and leaned in, purring. Sometimes, all you can offer is love.

***

When the carrier came out later that same day, Clara stared at it, confused. Surely, Becca didn’t think that her attentiveness, those extra cuddles and purrs, signaled something wrong. But before Clara could object, she was bundled inside the box-like contraption.

“ Have fun!” Laurel looked at her through the metal grid. “Remember to howl like you’re suffering.”

“Maybe they’ll give you treats.” Harriet pushed her sister aside to stare into the case. “Maybe I should come, too.”

“Too late, Fatso.” Laurel ducked as Harriet’s big paw came swinging.

“Kitties! Cut it out!” Becca was putting on her coat. “I promise, your little sister will be back soon.”

“Like we care,” said Laurel. But Laurel, Clara was beginning to understand, talked a very different game than what she felt.

***

That realization, as well as the growing idea that perhaps her sisters were less useless than she had once thought, kept Clara distracted during the bumpy T ride that followed. Accustomed to moving freely, the little cat found the so-called cat carrier particularly uncomfortable. She knew, however, that sidling through its plastic sides to take a seat beside her person would cause more trouble than it was worth, and so she settled in as best she could, thinking about her strange deliverance as the subway rumbled along.

“Look after each other.” The voice, so warm and strangely familiar, didn’t belong to Becca. Even as her eyes closed in thought, Clara felt that to be true. Felt, as well, that Becca was part of the larger story, one that was only now being revealed. “You must all help each other to learn and to be strong.”

“Hello.” The deep male voice that broke into Clara’s reverie sounded vaguely familiar, as did the plain but friendly face that looked through the carrier’s grill.

“What happened to you, Miss Kitty?”