Клеа Саймон - A Spell Of Murder

Her coat neatly groomed, Clara waited by the door until Becca left, slipping out only after the dark-haired girl, so as not to cause her concern. But as she followed her person’s rather hurried steps, the little calico began to have apprehensions of her own. Becca was upset, that much was evident. That she had felt spurred to action by the phone call—or maybe both phone calls—was also evident. What Clara wasn’t sure of was what her person intended to do about it.

Surely, the cat thought as she trotted to keep up, Becca wasn’t going to meet Jeff. Nor would she likely be heading back to the police, not after what she’d said on the phone. Cats may not understand the ins and outs of law enforcement, but they tend not to believe in closed doors of any sort, as anybody who has cohabited with a feline knows.

Still, the determined young woman marched on, her slight stature giving her an edge as she wove through the workday crowd. For her cat, it was a bit more difficult. Keeping herself semi-shadowed meant she had to be more careful of feet as she ducked and dodged down the crowded city sidewalk. When Becca turned off the busy main street, her pet breathed a sigh of relief. Even magical cats have a hard time out in the world. But as Clara looked around, the realization of where her person was headed made her catch her breath in a way no near miss by a pointy toe could.

Suzanne’s apartment. The triple-decker with its fresh coat of paint looked as cheery as could be on this sunny day. Still, Clara was grateful when her person stopped short of walking up to the clapboard building and mounting its three white steps. Not that she was easy with the way Becca stood on the sidewalk opposite, considering.

“I wonder who lives downstairs?” Becca voiced her thoughts. “And what they heard?”

This, her cat knew, could not end well. Surely, if the police were talking to Becca’s ex, then they must have interviewed the neighbors as well.

Of course, being a cat—and a shadowy one at that—Clara could check out the two lower apartments. In fact, she realized, it wouldn’t be difficult to slip inside the front door and at least take in the scents of the inhabitants.

The first floor, she could tell right away, was the home of an older woman. Even from here, she could sense that simply from the combination of aromas: peppermint tea and the sharp tang of a muscle rub, leavened with the not unpleasantly musty smell of old books. The couple on the second floor were likely academics, she figured, from the amount of paper rustling in the slight breeze that made its way inside. They’d been gone for several days, Clara gathered from the dearth of any other sound, as well as a certain stillness of the dust. Probably since Suzanne had been found there, she realized. Cats, like most humans, have an aversion to violence, but the parti-colored feline couldn’t quite understand why people would leave after an attack. Surely, that young couple—French, she decided, from some faint herbal quality to their kitchen—must have realized that the violence above them was over by the time they took off.

All she would have to do would be to cross the street. Clara took a deep breath. Cloaked as she was, no car would see her. Dare she risk it? For Becca she would, she decided, and glanced up at her person, only to see that she’d extracted her phone from her pocket.

“Hi, Nathan?” Startled, Clara sat back down on the sun-warmed sidewalk. “It’s me, Becca. I was thinking and, yes, I’d like to get together,” her person said. But all the time, the cat at her feet could easily see, the young woman was staring at the building before her.

Chapter 26

Nathan had been right. The coven had voted not to wait for the solstice. “None of us want to rush you, my dear, but it simply wouldn’t do to put off the inevitable,” Larissa had said when Becca reached her that afternoon, in response to the flurry of texts. “We need to focus on the goddess.”

“Too long to wait,” Maddy had interpreted, when Becca had explained to her friend why she’d be busy later. “She wants to get back to being the center of attention.”

“I gather everyone else agreed,” Becca protested mildly. Marcia, sequestered in her law office, had been particularly keen on acting sooner, Larissa had told her, and as soon as Marcia had spoken up, Ande and Kathy had chimed in too. Trent’s opinion wasn’t cited by the older wiccan, but Becca certainly wasn’t going to reach out to him after what had happened. If Larissa said they were all on board, she’d accept that.

“Like they had a choice?” Maddy snarked.

“You’ve not even met Larissa.” Becca didn’t really disagree with her friend’s assessment of the situation, but she did feel honor bound to speak up for the older woman. “That is, unless she works with you too.”

“Very funny!” Her friend had been wise enough not to take offense. “Just don’t stay out too late, okay? I want you to bright-eyed and bushy-tailed for your interview with old Reynolds.”

***

In truth, the sun had barely begun to set by the time the coven had gathered. However, the lengthening shadows did make it easier for Clara to follow as her person made her way to their meeting place by the river. The setting, the little cat had to admit, was perfect. Although cars roared by as commuters made their way home from work, the gently sloping bank was grassy and fragrant from the sprinkling of wild flowers along the verge. Already, the water reflected as much orange as blue, the surface broken only by the wake of a single sculler passing by, silent as a water bug.

“Becca.” Larissa had, as anticipated, taken charge, and was greeting each member of the coven as she arrived. Despite the usual handicap of draping sleeves and an impressive manicure, the dark-haired witch had already set up a small folding table with a jug of what looked to be cider and a plate of cookies that Harriet would have made quick work of. “Kathy.” The older woman nodded as the redhead came down the path. “Merry meet.”

“Merry meet,” Becca responded, spotting Ande over by the river’s edge. The tall accountant had her hands in her pockets and appeared to be staring at the reflections that wavered and took on new shape in the water before her. As Larissa began to fuss with the refreshments, Becca took a few careful steps down the sloped bank to join her, shuffling a bit on the slick grass to avoid losing her footing.

“Hey.” Ande turned from her reverie, and Becca had the oddly unnerving realization that she and the taller woman were eye to eye. “I mean, merry meet.”

“Hey, Ande. Merry meet to you too.” Becca took a deep breath, emboldened by this new equality. “I hear you voted for having the memorial tonight, Ande. I mean, as opposed to waiting for the solstice.”

“Well, yeah.” The glowing light warmed Ande’s skin, and she stared over the water as if she were remembering a good dream. “I mean, life goes on, right?”

“’Life goes on?’” Becca searched the other woman’s face. “No, Ande, something’s going on, but you can’t just dismiss it that easily.”

“What are you talking about?” Ande snapped to focus suddenly. “Becca, I know how horrible this has been—I mean, you found Suzanne.”

“You know it’s been horrible, but you’re not doing anything to help.” Becca spoke with quiet urgency. Up by the path, Larissa was getting louder. She wasn’t the most patient woman. “No, worse. You’re obfuscating things.”

“Obfuscating?” Her brow wrinkled.

“You know, making things muddy.”

“I know what obfuscating means.” Ande sounded sad rather than wounded. “I just don’t get what you mean.”

“You keep saying that Suzanne only wanted to talk to you about the coven finances, but that there wasn’t anything real there.” Becca fought to keep her voice low, even as her frustration mounted. “And you won’t come forward and tell the police about it. Meanwhile, I think they suspect me.”