Клеа Саймон - A Spell Of Murder

Becca tried to step back, but the older woman held her tight. “Yes, I would like to talk later,” she said, peering over her shoulder. “I have some questions too.”

“Yes, yes, later.” Larissa was already moving on, releasing her and progressing into the living room, as Kathy came to the door.

“Is Trent here?” She looked around.

“Sorry.” Marcia’s voice had an edge in it that made Becca turn. Before she could say anything, the bell rang again. Their warlock had arrived.

***

An hour later, the banana bread was gone and Becca, as well as her cats, were more than ready for the convocation to be over. Becca was too polite to rush anyone, of course, but the usual rituals simply grated this night and she had felt a headache coming on as soon as the group was seated, though that could have been because of the patchouli. The cats were less patient, particularly once the treats had been eaten. All three had been staring at the coven members with a concentration that no sensitive human should have missed.

But if Becca had hoped to move things along—and to be able to corner Larissa—she was out of luck.

“I was thinking,” said Marcia during a pause in the readings. “Maybe it would be good to go around and speak of Suzanne. I feel like maybe I wasn’t as somber as I should have been during the memorial, and I want to explain—and give her the proper respect.”

Ande, on her left, squeezed her hand, murmuring something about it all being understandable. But Larissa seemed to hear the proposal as a challenge.

“Excellent suggestion, my dear.” She tossed her hair for emphasis, and then held forth for a good fifteen minutes about the “promise” she had seen in the young woman.

Ande kept her tribute shorter, and Kathy basically passed. “I didn’t really know her,” she said. “I only ever saw her here.” When Trent began to expound—something about inner beauty and manifestations of the goddess—Becca winced.

“Trent, darling.” Larissa must have noticed her hostess’s pained expression, Clara thought. Either that, or Laurel’s powers were finally having an effect. “Do you think we could possibly move on to the final benediction?”

“But I didn’t—I mean, I’d like to make an announcement first,” said Marcia, turning from the goateed warlock to address the rest of the table. “That is, if Becca doesn’t mind?”

“Not at all.” Becca managed a smile. Her headache was getting worse.

“Thanks.” Marcia’s voice was warm, at least. “First, I’d like to thank Becca for having us. Luz and I were wondering if perhaps this was too soon. Especially for Becca.” She held up a hand to stop Larissa before she could complain. “Becca was the person who found our departed sister, after all.”

“We are all grateful, Becca,” Trent broke in. “Aren’t we? I was just saying—”

It was too much. “I’m sorry.” Becca stood. “Trent, Marcia, can this wait? I feel like my head’s about to split open.”

Ande rose and followed her into the kitchen, where she filled a glass with water.

“It’s the stress,” said Ande, pressing the glass into Becca’s hand. “I mean, the police and all.”

“Police?” Larissa came in as Becca drank, stinky teapot in hand. “You were talking to the police again?”

“I was supposed to.” Becca leaned back against the sink, felled by the combined stench of that brew and Larissa’s perfume. She had no more energy to dissemble. “They called me back. Trent too.”

“Well, I’m sure it was nothing.” Larissa raised her arms, her sleeves flapping like wings as she shooed the other coven member back into the living room. “Now, Ande, why don’t we give her some space?”

“I don’t need space.” Becca sounded so tired, Clara wished she could simply rest. “I need answers.”

Marcia peeked in, only to be dismissed with a wave of Larissa’s hand. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The older woman’s volume had sunk dramatically.

“Yes, you do.”

Clara watched, transfixed. She’d never seen her person so serious.

“Clara! They’re scattering!” Laurel’s yowl carried from the living room. Larissa started, her eyes going wide.

“That’s just my cat.” Becca brought her attention back. “Larissa, I get it. You were trying to have the records sealed. The bankruptcy records. It all makes sense.”

“What? No.” Another yowl, and Clara resisted the urge to respond. Couldn’t her sisters take care of anything?

“Are you okay?” Ande stuck her head back in, nearly stepping on Clara’s tail. “Otherwise, I’m going to head out.”

“Everything is fine,” Larissa hissed, and Ande withdrew, as if the older woman had indeed been a snake.

“Larissa, it’s over.” Becca looked up at the older woman, trying to see the person beneath the mascara and the scarves. Clara could hear Ande and Marcia talking softly in the living room. “I know that you’ve been keeping Trent—and that you’re overdrawn.” The older woman’s mouth dropped open. “That’s what you and your ex were arguing about, wasn’t it? Just tell me one thing, Larissa. Did you kill Suzanne because she and Trent were involved, or because she found out your little secret?”

“That’s crazy.” Chin high, Larissa dismissed the idea.

Becca, however, was not cowed. “The records room?”

A sniff.

“You couldn’t turn him down.” Becca thought back to what Jeff had said about “bad juju.” What Maddy had overheard at the office, and the laughing couple she herself had seen earlier that evening. “You were obsessed with him, and so you were trying to have your bankruptcy records sealed, so nobody would know how much you’ve been giving Trent.”

“I was not looking to have any financial records sealed. Not that it’s any of your business.” Her mouth closed so tight, the lines showed her age.

“I’m sure the police will disagree…”

“It was my divorce proceedings, if you must know.” Larissa spat out the words. “I knew you were poking about, and I didn’t want anyone finding out about Graham, and about, well, you know…”

“Your adult son, Nathan?” Becca’s brows went up. “The police still have motive. Suzanne was involved with Trent, and you know it.”

“So what?” A toss of the hair, but not a denial.

“You were jealous,” said Becca. “She was pretty—and younger. Maybe you didn’t mean to kill her when you lashed out. Obsession can be dangerous.”

To her surprise, the older woman laughed. “Obsessed? Are you kidding? Was my little fancy supposed to make me lash out?”

“Who’s lashing out?” Trent walked in. “And what are you two still doing in here? I thought we were leaving, Larissa. Is everything all right?”

“It’s fine.” Larissa brooked no argument.

“No, it’s not.” Becca lifted her heavy head to take in Trent. “Larissa found out about Suzanne. She saw the pendant you’d given her—here, when Suzanne wore it by mistake. The crystal teardrop.”

“What? No.” Trent giggled, a high, nervous sound. “That’s crazy. I would never—”

“That’s why you went to Suzanne’s, wasn’t it?”

The warlock blinked as if he’d been slapped. “No, I—no,” he stammered, the color leaving his face.

Becca’s voice was flat. But even exhausted, she was relentless. “You wanted that necklace back, before it cost you your place.”

“Suzanne liked that crystal better than she did me.” His whisper was barely perceptible. “She said it was more real.”

Becca ignored him. “You’re lucky the parking meter alibi’d you, but you must have wondered. That’s why you ran to Larissa as soon as the police had released you. Why she was the first person to call me—even before my mother. She wanted to find out what I knew. What I’d figured out.”