Клеа Саймон - A Spell Of Murder

“No, Trent is—I don’t know what Trent is.” The distraction seemed to help Becca too. Stepping over the heap of Harriet, she proceeded into the living room, and Clara jumped to the sofa, hoping to claim the cushion next to their person before Laurel could. To her surprise, it was Harriet who barreled up next to her, shoving her out of the way.

“Mine!” Even before Becca sat down, the big cat had settled, spreading herself over one sofa cushion, while one white paw hooked over its padded edge.

“Never mind.” Clara could visualize the other woman waving off the digression. “Tell me what happened with the painter.”

“It was so weird.” Becca was still talking as she reached over to stroke Harriet’s orange and white fur. “I didn’t have any sense—I mean, I trusted him.”

Clara eyed her sister. Harriet didn’t seem to be enjoying the absentminded stroking that Clara would have reveled in. More than that, however, she seemed intent on holding her place even as Becca shifted.

“Yes, I know he was at Suzanne’s building. But the police had questioned him and everything.” She turned further as she spoke, but Harriet didn’t budge, hanging onto the edge of the sofa cushion with one snowy paw. “It was strange, Maddy. It started off with him telling me something else he heard that day. Something he hadn’t told me before. He said he told the cops, but I only have his word for it. And there’s something else…”

More high-pitched chatter from the other line.

“He—and, please don’t say it—but he knew something he shouldn’t.” Becca closed her eyes, as if the memory was painful. “When we met, he’d said he didn’t know her—that they’d only said hi once or twice. I didn’t want him to think I was too flakey, so I’d only told him that Suzanne and I were in a group together. I’m sure of it. But he mentioned the coven, Maddy. He knew Suzanne better than he let on, and, no, I don’t think that’s the kind of the thing the police would know to ask him about.”

Clara didn’t have to listen to get the gist of Maddy’s response. She agreed that Becca was probably too trusting. What she didn’t agree with was that the young woman should probably avoid men for a while. After all, Clara had liked Nathan’s sweet-sharp pine scent and gentle voice as well. But Becca was responding.

“Also, he knows Larissa, which is suspicious. Unless…” She paused, and there was silence on the other end. “Larissa gave him my number. She could have told him about Suzanne, about the coven too. Oh, Maddy, do you think I made a mistake? Do you think I just ran out on a nice guy for no reason?”

“Becca, a woman was killed, and you’re worried that you weren’t polite?” The answer came back loud and clear, and for once, Clara had to agree.

“I guess you’re right.” Becca’s hand was resting on Harriet’s broad back, and Clara waited for her sister to jump down. “At any rate, I should write Larissa a thank you—for the job recommendation, I mean.”

“Maybe hold off.” Clara barely heard Maddy’s response as she focused on her sister. Harriet didn’t like steady pressure on any part of her broad anatomy. If she didn’t move soon, she was liable to bite. “I asked Reynolds about new hires and he said something about a new guy coming in: a new guy. ”

“Maybe he meant generically?” Becca switched hands on the phone, and Clara breathed a sigh of relief. “A new person?”

“I don’t think so. He said something about a fox in the henhouse. I gather the other candidate is coming in next week. I’m sorry, Becca. It’s all marketing research anyway. Not the kind of thing you should be doing. I mean, do you really care who is spending more than they can afford?”

Clara longed to lean in and comfort her person. If only Harriet would give way.

“Well, I would have, but it’s okay.” Becca shrugged. “That job was a long shot for me anyway.”

“Look, I’ll see what I can find out.” There was an edge in Maddy’s voice that made Clara think of Laurel and her dirty tricks. “We’re not giving up just yet, kiddo.”

Chapter 30

Her friend’s words didn’t have an immediate effect. Either that, or Laurel was using her powers of suggestion to keep their person nearby, because Becca spent most of the day on the sofa, skimming job sites and the occasional kitten video. But the young woman was too resilient to be thrown for long, and when Tuesday broke with sunny promise, she was up and dressed before any of her cats had finished their morning toilette.

“Another date?” Laurel paused in her routine, paw extended behind her ear.

“I don’t think so.” Clara tried to hide the worry in her voice. Laurel’s plans for their person did not align with what her younger sister saw as Becca’s best interest. To cover, she began to lick her paw.

“You just did that one.” Laurel’s blue eyes didn’t miss much. “What are you hiding?”

“Bye, kitties!” Becca called. It was a habit, nothing more, but Clara still looked up—and felt a paw weighing down on her tail.

“Talk,” said her sister.

“Yeah.” Harriet had ambled over. “ Talk.” From the way the plump orange and white cat was licking her chops, Becca suspected she’d been cleaning the breakfast dishes rather than her luxurious fur. Still, if she was going to trail Becca, Clara had to rally her sisters to her side and fast.

“I think this has to do with that man she was out with the other night.” This was for Laurel, whose tail lashed once, back and forth, in interest. “He’s been texting her. Though it could be a shopping trip.” That was for Harriet. But the plan almost backfired.

“Wait a minute.” Harriet wasn’t usually that quick on the uptake, but when food was involved she didn’t let much get past her. “You’re just saying that…”

“Look, if you want to join me, you can.” Already, Becca’s footsteps were growing fainter. “I’m simply worried about her. And she is our responsibility.”

Harriet looked at Laurel, and Laurel stared back. Clara held her breath, whiskers trembling. Becca was almost out of earshot already. But the little calico had hit on the one truth that all real cats know. Laurel lifted her paw, and in a flash, Clara was out the door, ignoring both its wooden solidity and the latch that had locked it shut.

“Make sure she brings back treats!” Harriet called after her youngest sibling, but she was already gone.

***

Quickly fading her orange patches to grey, Clara did her best to blend in with the morning’s shadows. Still, in her haste, she nearly tripped a young mother, busy with her toddler, and had to act fast to dodge a bike messenger cutting across the sidewalk to avoid construction. Her haste paid off, however, as she caught a whiff of Becca’s clean, warm scent and—soon after—the sight of her dark curls bobbing through the crowd.

“Maddy’s right,” she was saying to herself in a voice too soft for any human ear to catch. “I need to get back to work—at least on my own work. It’s too easy to rely on web searches, and how can I expect anyone to hire me if I don’t keep up with primary sources?”

Her musing and her stride were cut short by the buzz of her phone. For although the young woman kept up her jaunty pace as she fished the device out of her pocket, a quick glance at the screen stopped her cold.

“No!” she exclaimed before even answering. “I’m just—no.” She shoved the phone back into her pocket and shut her eyes. By the time she opened them, a few seconds later, her phone had ceased its buzzing. “I’ll call them back later,” she promised out loud. “Even the police can’t expect everyone to take every call.”