Клеа Саймон - A Spell Of Murder

“Oh,” she recoiled, taking in the collection of pink daisies and chrysanthemums that surrounded one red rose. “A bouquet?”

“A celebration of the Flower Moon,” Trent corrected her with a warm smile as he placed the vase on Becca’s all-purpose table. “As well as a hostess gift. After all, we’ve been meeting at Becca’s every week for a month now.”

Before Kathy could respond, the doorbell rang again.

“Please,” said Trent, nodding at Becca. “Let me.”

“Thanks.” She looked relieved, as Kathy trotted after him. “I forgot to put the kettle on.”

Clara followed Becca back into the kitchen, trying to read her expression and understand this strange nervousness of hers.

“Becca, I can’t believe you did it. I mean, I’m really impressed.” Suzanne had come up behind the cat, who sidestepped quickly to protect her tail. “In fact, I’m wondering if now maybe you can help me with something.”

“I’d love to. Can you grab those mugs first?” Becca asked, filling the kettle. “I got a little behind this afternoon.”

“Tea can wait.” Suzanne stepped closer, as the cat scooted back to the counter. The skinny woman didn’t seem like much of a threat—Harriet could probably knock her over—but she was wearing hard-soled shoes. “I’ve been trying to figure out what to do about something, Becca. It’s…well, it’s kind of private, only, it might affect all of us.”

“Really?” Becca wasn’t listening, as her cat could tell. Instead, she was counting spoonfuls of that foul tea into her big teapot, and so the calico emerged to brush against her, willing her to pay attention. “Oh, Clara.” She paused to look down at that grey and orange face. “Did Harriet eat your dinner again too? Hang on.”

Leaving off her counting, she fetched the bag of kibble from beneath the sink and poured some into the now-empty dish. But while the smallest of her pets appreciated her concern, that wasn’t what she’d been on about. Nor, it seemed, was it what had preoccupied Suzanne.

“I’m serious, Becca.” She leaned in, speaking softly as she toyed nervously with the crystal teardrop pendant she wore. “Especially if you can—”

“Becca, darling!” An exaggerated theatrical voice interrupted them as Larissa swanned into the kitchen, scarves trailing behind her and a plate of cookies in her outstretched, be-ringed hand. “Oh, that’s a pretty piece.” She reared back as she eyed Suzanne’s necklace. “Is that new?”

Suzanne glanced down at the pendant, as if she’d forgotten what she held. “I’ve had it for a while,” she said with a nervous smile, and tucked it beneath her collar.

With a sniff, Larissa turned, once more, to their host.

“What’s this I’ve been hearing about a summoning spell?”

“A summoning?” Kathy had appeared, as if flagged down by those colorful scarves.

“It was…I’ll tell you all about it.” Becca looked down at the kettle, as if the burgeoning steam could explain her own reddening cheeks. “I’m not sure what exactly happened.”

Turning off the heat, Becca went back to scooping tea leaves as Ande, tall and elegant with a complexion like milk caramel, entered the kitchen. The other new arrival, Marcia, must have caught her on the way in.

“Luz got a new client today.” Petite Marcia had to look up to address Ande, whose dark curls added an inch to her height. “Going into private practice was the best thing she ever did, for so many reasons.”

As she always did when Marcia—a paralegal with startlingly large, dark eyes—brought up her pretty Latina roommate, Larissa rolled her own eyes, heavy with mascara. “I’m sure, darling,” she drawled. “But we were talking about Becca’s remarkable success.”

“I wasn’t talking to—oh, never mind.” Marcia shook her head, as if to free her dark pageboy, and shoved her ever-present Red Sox cap in the pocket of her overalls. “But, yeah, I want to hear about the spell.”

“What spell?” Ande asked in a stage whisper before someone Clara couldn’t see—Marcia?—shushed her.

“I’ve been trying to reproduce my results,” Becca explained. “That’s why I don’t have anything set up, and the tea…”

“Darling Becca,” Larissa’s voice dripped with her usual condescension. “Magic isn’t an exact science, you know. You can’t expect to use the same techniques.” She waved one hand and set her bangles clanking, and Clara retreated to the corner. It wasn’t just the noise, though. Larissa was the oldest member of the coven, by a good ten years, and too vain to wear glasses. Thinking of this, the cautious calico pulled her tail in closer.

“Here, let me.” Becca turned to take the plate and place it safely on the counter, just as a low, sleek shadow slipped in. If this crew left the kitchen without taking those cookies, Laurel would be on them in a second. The seal-point cat was as omnivorous as Harriet, only she was a better jumper.

“She’s right, you know.” The women all turned, making room for Trent. “We can’t account for factors beyond our perception—cosmic vibrations, or even atmospheric pressure. But your instincts were dead on.” His smile provoked a low murmur, almost a purr, from all of the women except Marcia. Becca’s blush had deepened, and she turned away as if to hide it.

“Bother,” she said, looking at the pot in her hands. “I’ve lost count. Now I’ve got to start all over again.”

Chapter 3

Harriet and Laurel had already grabbed the prime seating in the living room—Laurel on Becca’s overstuffed armchair and Harriet stretched out on the sofa where everyone could admire her coat. And so, Clara followed Becca once the tea was steeping and hunkered down beneath the table. It wasn’t as comfy there, but she liked being close to her person. More importantly, from this vantage point, she could keep an eye on Harriet.

“So Becca has had a momentous breakthrough,” Trent began once the customary invocation had been recited. “I don’t know if everyone has heard.”

“How could we help it?” Kathy’s voice wasn’t as soft as she thought it was, and from where Clara sat, she could see one of the other women—Marcia, probably, considering the high-tops—surreptitiously kick her. “I mean, it sounds so exciting.” Kathy didn’t sound convinced. “Oh, cool necklace, Suzanne.”

“Thanks.” The nervous hands suddenly appeared in the thin woman’s lap, as if she’d forced them down.

“Well, I want to hear the details,” Marcia piped up. “Shall I pour?”

“I rather think that’s Becca’s prerogative tonight, don’t you?” Larissa, in her grand dame role. “By the way, Becca, did you call my friend about the position?”

“I don’t have a master’s, Larissa.” Becca, standing, seemed to be struggling with the full pot. “And it sounds like your friend is looking for a PhD.”

“Bosh.” Even from under the table, Clara could picture the dismissive wave.

“I might have a lead for you.” Kathy was trying to make up for her, well, cattiness. Clara lashed her tail. “What are you looking for again?”

“I did online and library research.” Becca sounded tired, though it wasn’t clear if that was because of the heavy teapot or the subject. “I’ve been hoping to finish my library sciences degree, but…” A sigh and the thud. At least the pouring was done. “I can type too, but I’m hoping to find something in my field before unemployment runs out.”

“We should talk.” Clara could almost hear Kathy nodding, but when she tried to poke her head up to catch Becca’s reaction, she found herself blocked by a foot.

“These are good.” Trent again. “Did you make these, Larissa?”