Клеа Саймон - A Spell Of Murder

“Well, good.” The clerk sounded relieved. “Because these are public records, ma’am. That’s the point of our office.”

“Of course they are.” With a grin like a Cheshire cat’s, Larissa dismissed the clerk and led Becca away from the desk. “So please, dear girl, tell me more about what you’ve discovered.”

Clara watched in horror as the older woman led her person away with a grip on her upper arm as firm as a new mother’s on a kitten.

“It’s just…odd.” Once Becca was into her work, Clara remembered with dismay, she lost sight of anything else. “I’ve been tracing my family history. Did I tell you, one of my ancestors was reported to be a witch?”

“Woman of power, please .” Larissa winced but kept walking, propelling Becca toward the exit. “So, you’re researching your family?”

“Yes.” Becca pulled back. “That’s why I joined the coven in the first place. I mean, I was interested, of course, but—”

“Of course,” Larissa burst out. “I remember now. How fascinating. My own family history is shrouded in shadow. I believe we may have Native American ancestry—the name Fox, of course.”

“I see.” Becca didn’t look like she did. “Is that what you were asking the clerk about?”

“What? No, nothing like that.” Without the flowing sleeves, Larissa’s dramatic dismissal resembled a flailing fledgling.

Maybe that’s what brought Becca back. “I’m sorry I didn’t see you at first.” Becca took in her colleague as if seeing her for the first time. “I’ve been kind of caught up—and I should get back.”

“But I’ve wanted to speak with you.” Larissa leaned in close enough for Becca to note the fine lines around her eyes. “Alone.” A dramatic pause as she batted those eyes. “Have you noticed anything odd about Ande? She seems to have become fixated.”

“Ande?” Becca examined the woman in front of her, as if the answer to her query would be written on those black brows or the hawk-like nose between them. “Fixated—on what?”

“On Trent, of course.” Larissa’s voice had dropped to a whisper. “You know she has a crush on him.”

“No, she said—” Rather than finish her sentence, Becca extricated her arm. “I’m sorry. I need to get back.”

Larissa reached for her once again, and Clara saw her opening. As Becca stepped back toward the records, the cat ducked her head and jumped. Landing a beat behind her person, the agile feline arched her back and hissed. It wasn’t enough—the toe of Larissa’s shoe still caught her in the belly as she stepped forward—but at least it was the rounded toe of a running shoe rather than her usual pointy number. Plus, the impact did cause the other woman to stumble and pause as she righted herself. And with that, Clara dashed off after Becca, slipping into the records room just as the door swung closed.

“Hang on!” Becca called out. The clerk was in the process of lifting the journal off her desk. “I’m sorry. My friend wanted to talk with me.”

“I’m sorry as well.” The blue-haired woman put the journal back down with care. “I hope I didn’t lose your place. Too many patrons don’t bother to bring the materials back, you see.”

“No, it’s fine.” Becca glanced down at the open book. “I’m almost done, anyway. There’s just one thing in here I don’t understand.”

Cat-shaped glasses tipped, waiting. “Maybe I’m reading this wrong,” said Becca. “But this lists the residents of this house as Mistress Rebecca Horne, widow, and Mistress Greybar. I’d come to believe that Mistress Greybar was Rebecca Horne’s cat.”

The eyes behind those glasses stared back. “And?”

“Well, doesn’t it seem odd to you that her cat is given the same standing as her owner?”

“I don’t know what to tell you.” The blue-haired woman sniffed. “I’d read that as this Mistress Greybar being a member of the family. I can tell you that our records have not been altered in any way. Though perhaps there was an error. Your friend…” She shook her head.

“I’m sorry.” Becca’s voice softened. “She can be a bit imperious. Did she think you—or your office—had done something wrong?”

“Not really.” Another shake. “I shouldn’t be discussing other clients’ issues anyway.”

“I understand.” Becca lowered her voice, but there was a note in it that let Clara know she was hatching a plan. “I’m actually wondering if you can help me with something else—something that might be related. I’m not sure what she told you, but my friend and I both belong to a group, and I believe its financial records might be on file here.”

“If you’re incorporated here in the city, or have applied for a license, they are.” If Becca had hoped the bespectacled clerk would reveal Larissa’s request, she was to be disappointed. However, before she could come up with another query, the clerk retreated to the desk and so Becca followed. “What name is your organization incorporated under?”

“Oh.” Becca stared down, as if the answer would appear on the counter before her. “I don’t know if we’re incorporated.”

“Do you hold a license? Pay municipal taxes?”

“No.” Becca drew the word out while she thought. “I know, why don’t you look up licenses under the name of our founder, Larissa Fox.”

“Would you write that down?”

Becca filled out the proffered form and returned it to the clerk, who took it back to her files, tut-tutting as she walked. While she waited, Becca stared at the door. Questions about Larissa were palpably weighing on her. But before she could do anything about them, the cat-eye glasses were staring back at her.

“Are you confident about these names?”

“Yes, though not the spelling—”

The clerk cut her off. “I tried alternative spellings, including double X and a PH for Fox. It didn’t change anything. I don’t have any records of ownership or licenses in this city for anyone named Larissa Fox.”

Chapter 32

“Maddy, it’s the strangest thing.” Becca reached her friend as she made her way home. “I wouldn’t have even thought of asking, only Larissa was going on about Ande, like she’d done something wrong, and then I remembered that Ande was the reason that Suzanne was asking about the coven’s money. She said we were down a few thousand dollars, and—”

“Becca, do you hear yourself?” Maddy’s patience was running thin. “Bad enough you’re in this crazy group, now you’re getting involved in its finances?”

“But that’s just it.” Becca had been mulling this over. “This might be why Suzanne was killed. After all, if Suzanne thought that somebody was embezzling—”

“Becca! Stop it! This is a police matter, okay?” When Maddy yelled, her voice was audible even to the people on the street. “Leave it to them, please.”

“But the police don’t really understand about the coven.” Becca had to make Maddy understand. “They’re not going to know how we all relate to each other, and they wouldn’t have heard about the funds going missing.”

“Didn’t you say this Ande was going to tell them?”

Becca bit back her retort. “She promised to, but she didn’t seem to think it was a big deal.”

“Okay, then you’ve got to tell them—” Maddy stopped herself.

“You just said that I should stay out of it.” Becca was nothing if not reasonable.

“No, you’re right.” Maddy was obviously making plans. “I’m sorry I even said anything. You’ve got to stay as far away from this as you can. I’m sorry you’re even still talking to anyone in that coven of yours. Besides, like you said, if this Ande was the whistleblower and even she didn’t think it was a big deal, then it wasn’t, I’m sure.”