Клеа Саймон - A Spell Of Murder

“Oh, gee, that’s my fault!” Kathy shook her girlish curls. “I’m so sorry. I meant to speak with him, first. He doesn’t know it yet, but one of the girls I work with is about to give notice—”

“I don’t know.” Becca cut her off.

“No, really.” Kathy’s smile wrinkled her freckled nose. “Eric needs someone. I’ll clear it up and get back to you.”

“Thanks.” Becca managed a smile. It was nearly full dark by then, and the party had begun to break up. “Do you think we should clean up?”

“Well, the cookies are gone.” Kathy seemed to lose interest, but she tagged after Becca as she collected paper plates and napkins into the bag that had transported the cider.

“Thanks, dear.” Larissa took the trash from her, folding the bag top over as she drew it close. “Would you like a ride home?” Marcia, Kathy, and Trent had already lined up behind her.

“No, thanks. I’ll walk.” Becca turned around as if to seek a companion or, perhaps, Clara realized, to continue a discussion. But Ande was already gone.

Chapter 27

Clara woke the next morning with a start. “Something’s burning!” She mewed over to Harriet, who was still sacked out beside her, and went in search of Laurel and Becca.

“North, south, east…” She found Becca in the living room, waving around a bundle of smoldering twigs. “No, wait, that’s west.”

Laurel was observing from a safe distance, under the dining room table.

“What’s going on?” Clara asked her sister.

A flick of the tail. “Some spell she looked up to get rid of negativity.” The seal point turned and, leaving the room, whined in pure Siamese fashion. “More like she wants to get rid of us. That stinks.”

Any further complaint was cut off by a metallic shriek that sent Becca scrambling. After quickly dousing the sage bundle in the sink, she clambered onto a chair to silence the alarm and then opened the apartment’s front window.

The noise woke Harriet, who joined Clara and Laurel as their person wandered around the living room, fanning the air with a newspaper. “It’s not right, waking us like that and then not feeding us,” the sleepy marmalade grumbled with a yawn

“She will,” Clara reassured her. “She always does.”

“Wake me when she does.” Harriet settled in for a nap as Becca, a bit more tousled than usual, began her morning toilette. After watching her oldest sister curl up on the sofa, Clara found Laurel in the bedroom, where Becca was dressing.

It had taken Clara a few moments to understand what her sister was up to, those blue eyes focused so intently as their person rifled through her closet. Only after she’d taken out a halter-top sundress did Clara turn on Laurel with a hiss.

“What?” Laurel’s ears flicked back. Any interruption tended to dispel her ability to suggest thoughts. “You want her to succeed, don’t you?”

“Not like that.” Clara did her best not to growl. “It’s not that kind of meeting.”

“They’re all that kind of meeting.” Laurel turned her back on her sister, but despite her feigned nonchalance, that chocolate tail was already whipping back and forth.

Clara, who knew how much was at stake, wasn’t going to let this one go. “ Laurel,” she hissed. No response beyond another flick of those dark ears. “ Laurel!” The calico had raised her paw to smack her older sister on her café au lait behind when Harriet interrupted.

“Where’s our breakfast?” The big marmalade looked around as she lumbered over to the chair, where two discarded outfits had already been tossed—evidence of the battle being waged between her younger siblings. “Is she — are you two — going to keep this up all day?”

“No.” Turning away, Laurel began grooming, as if the appearance of her own dainty brown booties were all that mattered. “It’s hopeless.”

As Becca pulled a modish—but modest—skirt and matching jacket out of her closet, Clara sighed with relief. She hadn’t wanted to fight. Clara didn’t think her slinky seal-point sister was jealous of her own particular power—the ease with which she passed through walls and closed doors. But the calico did suspect that her sister would not stand to have her more mischievous wishes thwarted again. Luckily, not even Laurel would start an argument with Harriet about breakfast, and the bigger cat’s interruption had already broken her brief spell. No magic was required to remind Becca of her most important of duties, however, and while Harriet and Laurel were still face down in their dishes, Clara snuck out—catching Becca as she headed for her appointment.

***

Maddy was outside, leaning against a concrete pillar and smoking, when Becca got to the Central Square office where she worked.

“I thought you’d quit,” said Becca, stepping back after a quick embrace.

“I have, sort of.” Her friend stubbed out the butt and fanned the air. “But I wanted to catch you before you went in.”

Before Becca could comment on the logic of that particular excuse, her friend had reached out for her again, holding her at arm’s length while she surveyed Becca’s skirt and floral summer jacket.

“You look good.” Maddy nodded. “Too good for this place.”

Clara had to agree. As much as she disliked Laurel messing with their person’s thoughts, in this case, the lingering effects of her suggestion had been positive. Becca wasn’t what one would call stylish, but the skirt and jacket worked together nicely, giving the young woman a more mature, put-together look than what she might have otherwise chosen. If only the acrid smoke didn’t insinuate itself into the pretty fabric.

“Thanks.” Becca smoothed the already wrinkle-free front of the jacket and threw her shoulders back. “I want to make a good impression.”

“If anyone can…” Her friend glanced over at the building’s glass doors, shaking her head. “He’s in a mood. That’s why I wanted to catch you—to warn you.”

Becca’s brows shot up.

“Well, yeah, and to have a smoke. I mean, it’s, what, not even nine thirty and he’s already reamed out the entire team.”

Becca’s perfect posture slumped. “What happened?”

“I don’t know.” Still watching the door as if afraid of what might come out, Maddy shook her head. “Another fight with his ex, I think. I got in early—we really could use some extra help, you know—and I could hear them. I mean, he was on the phone, with his door closed, and I could still hear him. I think she lives in one of his properties and has an untrained dog or something. He was yelling about ‘a shorter leash.’ I know, it sounds stupid. Remind me to never get married.”

Becca opened her mouth to respond and wisely shut it again before her friend could see.

“Anyway, don’t mention pets.” Her friend turned back to face her, once more taking in Becca’s outfit, from shoes to hair. “Though maybe cats would be…no, just don’t. And you do look good. This weather, your hair has some curl to it. Once we get you a job, we’re going to go out and meet some decent guys.”

“But not to marry.” Becca raised her hand to cut off her friend’s objection, a grin perking her pink cheeks up further. “That’ll be great. Though I may have a prospect of my own.”

“Oh?” Maddy drew the syllable out till it dripped with inflection.

“I’ll tell you after.” Becca took a deep breath and once more brushed down her spotless jacket. In some ways, Clara thought with more than a touch of pride, her person was very like a cat. “Wish me luck!”