Клеа Саймон - A Spell Of Murder

But it was with a more tentative step that she set out. And when a car drove slowly by, she stopped once more. Black and white at its ends, with a slash of gold in the middle, it resembled nothing so much as a calico like herself, Clara thought. Only the sight of the vehicle—or maybe it was the words written on its side—had Becca gasping.

“They can’t…” She paused, her thought unfinished, and turned slowly to check out the road behind her. “Are the police following me?”

Clara had never really envied either of her sisters their particular powers before. Right now, though, she wished she were better at suggestion. Watching her person, frozen with indecision—or could it be fear? —was heartrending. Surely, the appearance of the cruiser, coming right after that rejected call, was coincidental. Besides, she thought, no one could suspect the sweet young woman of murdering her friend, no matter what her unfaithful ex may have suggested to the police.

“Jeff.” One word, spit out like a pill, and Becca turned to walk quite purposefully in the opposite direction. As Clara realized where she was heading, she had to wonder if perhaps she possessed some of Laurel’s skill after all.

***

“Jeff Blakey, please.” Becca stood at the steel and glass front desk of the Kendall Square startup. Before the purple-haired receptionist could do more than open her mouth, she continued. “Tell him Becca Colwin is here.”

“Right away.” The receptionist, who couldn’t have been much more than Becca’s age, bent her over the phone and turned away as much as she dared. “Jeff?” Clara, if not Becca, heard her quite clearly. “There’s a girl here to see you. I think she’s upset.”

“I’m not…” Becca bit back the end of her sentence and began drumming her fingers on the hard surface. “Thank you,” she said when the receptionist looked up again, the jewel in her pierced nose glittering.

“He’ll be right out.” The receptionist blinked and then turned quickly away.

“Maybe he does think I’m dangerous.” Becca’s faint murmur was nearly drowned out by the tattoo of her drumming, but she kept it up until her ex pushed open a glass door to step into the reception area.

“Becca.” He flipped his hair back. “I wasn’t—did we have a date?”

“I need to speak with you.” Becca pointed to the office exit. “Now.”

***

“Why did you think it was someone in the coven?”

Jeff had appeared surprised when Becca stopped immediately outside the tech central building. When she turned to confront him in her sternest voice, he could only blink in astonishment.

“Jeff Blakey, you answer me.” Becca had her arms crossed as she questioned her ex and her stance wide, almost as if she would block him from walking on. “What made you think it was one of us?”

“I don’t know.” The lanky young man looked down, his hair falling once more in his eyes. “I was just talking, I guess.”

“Just talking?” Becca’s eyes narrowed, rather like Laurel’s, her usual smile long gone as her mouth settled in a firm line. “To the police?”

“Well, I told you what Suzanne said.” As he spoke, Jeff glanced back at his office, though whether he was afraid of being overheard or hoping for an opportunity to bolt back in was beyond Clara. “You know, about someone following her. And I didn’t want the police to think it was me.”

“You didn’t mind them thinking it was me though.” A bitter note had crept into Becca’s voice. “And they evidently believed you. Did they just take you at your word?”

“Oh, honey.” Instead of answering, he made the mistake of reaching for her. Laurel couldn’t have slapped him down that fast. “I’m…I’m sorry, Becca. I wasn’t thinking. I thought I was in the clear, and so when they called me in again, I guess I panicked.”

At that, Becca stared at him so hard that Clara began to wonder if her person really did possess magical powers.

“Be honest now,” she said, folding her arms again. This time, Clara saw her make a discrete sign with her hands that she knew her person had first seen in one of her books. “Did you hurt Suzanne?”

“No, I did not.” He actually faced her as he spoke and that, more than any supposedly magical gesture, convinced Clara, if not Becca, that he was most likely telling the truth.

Or at least part of it. “So, why, Jeff? And don’t hold back.”

The young man before her sighed, as if he could deflate and disappear, and then craned around once in a fruitless search for an escape. “Okay, I hurt her. But not like that!” He rushed to counter Becca’s panicked response. “Look, I wasn’t the best—I should never have been with her. I was thinking about you, really. And I thought she had picked up on that.”

Becca waited, her skepticism showing on her face.

“She said something about how she’d found out something—something unexpected.”

“Did it have to do with money?” Becca interrupted. “With funds going missing?”

“Maybe. No. I don’t know.” Her ex looked thoroughly miserable. He didn’t even bother brushing away the hair that fell, limp, over his eyes as he slumped forward. “All I know was that she said she’d stumbled on to something that was supposed to be a secret.

“She never told me what it was.” He spoke softly now, as if talking to himself. “I thought it was about me. About something I’d done, and then, adding it together with her saying that someone was following her, I thought that maybe you–”

“A secret. And you thought—” Realization was dawning on Becca as she recounted what her ex had said. “You didn’t want me coming over to your place that Saturday. You thought that I might have been stalking Suzanne, and that the cops might have thought you were. And for all your protestations, it seems you must have an alibi that you don’t want to tell me about. Jeff Blakey, you were cheating on Suzanne too. Weren’t you? That’s why she took down all her photos from Facebook. Photos of the two of you. She dumped you—and you, you had another girl at your place on the Saturday that Suzanne was killed. Maybe even when you called me.”

“It was all wrong with Suzanne from the start.” He didn’t even bother to deny it. “I never should have—I missed you, Becca. It just took me all that to realize how much you meant to me. I’m so sorry. I never should have broken up with you. I never should have said anything about you to the cops.”

“No, Jeff, you shouldn’t have. But you did.”

When he reached once more for her hand, she pulled away without any sign of regret.

“Goodbye, Jeff. Take care of yourself.” She didn’t, thought Clara, even sound that sad.

Chapter 31

Jeff had stood, watching, as Becca walked away without looking back. Her cat had been particularly proud of the way she had strode off, as confident as a tabby in the clear fine day.

But as soon as she’d turned the corner, Becca’s shoulders slumped. And while Clara didn’t see any tears on her dear person’s cheeks, she could tell from the way her lips trembled and how she jammed her hands into her pockets that she was fighting to hold them off.

Once again, Clara wished for Laurel’s powers—or at least the freedom to show herself and cheer her person with a head butt and a purr. Maybe some of that translated, however, because before long, Becca was standing straighter. Soon, she even caught herself—looking around as if realizing where she was—and spoke aloud. “Research,” she said. “Time to get back to work.” And when she turned and began walking with a sense of purpose, Clara trotted along, out of sight but cheered beyond measure.

The word spoken by the young woman meant little to the cat. The idea of research, as well as work, for that matter, is foreign to felines. Clara, like her sisters, had gained her in-depth knowledge of the world through instinct, as much as observation. However, what she did understand as well as she knew her own whiskers were her sacred obligations to the young woman ahead of her, not only as royalty but as a pet. The fact that she also loved Becca, with her earnest intentions and gentle voice, only made these duties more pressing.