Клеа Саймон - A Spell Of Murder

“I didn’t think Larissa had hurt Suzanne.” Trent was growing desperate. “I never thought …”

A beringed hand flicked the back of his head.

“Oh, stuff it, Trent,” Larissa cut him off, then turned back to Becca. “I knew about Suzanne. Just as I knew about his fling with Ande and his little flirtation with you. Those dalliances mean nothing. He always comes back to me.”

Trent’s mouth opened and closed, like a beached fish, but neither of the women were watching.

“You can’t prove that.” Becca considered, and for the first time, Clara heard doubt in her voice.

“As a matter of fact.” Larissa beckoned and Trent stepped toward her, his face unreadable. With one long claw, she hooked the chain around his neck and pulled it forward, forcing him to bend. Taking the amulet between two fingers, she briefly examined it—flipping it over to its backside before holding it out to Becca. “Read,” she commanded.

“Love renewed,” Becca read aloud, “under the Flower Moon.” The inscription ended with the date of the coven meeting—the Wednesday before Suzanne’s murder.

“What was that?” As Becca stood silent, trying to make sense of what she’d read, Clara turned to Harriet for an answer. The calico didn’t need to remind her sister that this inscription hadn’t been duplicated on her summoned facsimile.

“ I didn’t see any words when I grabbed it.” Harriet blinked. “Besides, who cares about words? I wanted the pretty shininess of it.”

“Trent’s a boy.” Larissa addressed the stunned Becca, as if the man she was referring to weren’t there. As if she wasn’t holding him, literally, on a chain. “But he’s a good boy. He knows who owns him.”

“What’s going on here?” Marcia poked her head in, her Sox cap already in place. “I thought we needed to get going.”

“Just cleaning up.” Trent pulled back as Larissa released him. His voice was unnaturally high, and the shorter woman looked at him, puzzled. Turning his back on his mistress, he moved toward Marcia, the fingertips of one hand playing down her arm. “But we’re about done, if you want to get out of here, Marcia.”

Only Clara and Harriet could see the leer on his face, but surely Becca could hear the insinuation in his voice. “In fact, Marcia.” His voice sank to its sexy lower register. “I’ve been wondering if you’d ever thought of spending some time with me.” He moved to usher her out of the kitchen, his voice like warm honey. “You’ve got the darkest eyes…”

Clara glanced back at Becca, concerned. Her person had once been interested in this man not that long before.

“Gross.” Marcia’s retort broke through his murmurings. “Just…no, Trent. No. Are you clueless?”

She stepped back. Away to face him. Even Ande, who’d been fussing with her bag, was looking at her now.

“I never got to make my announcement.” Exasperation gave Marcia’s voice an edge. “Luz and I are getting married. We wanted to invite the coven to our ceremony. Maybe even have a hand-fasting or something. But forget it. You’re gross, you…you second-rate lothario.”

As she turned away, Trent burst into tears.

All hell broke loose after that. Larissa pushed by Becca to cradle the crying man in her bosom, and Harriet and Clara had to scurry to avoid being stepped on. Ande stood, transfixed, as Marcia stormed out of the apartment, without even taking her loaf pan. Becca, meanwhile, just sank into a kitchen chair and put her head down on her folded arms.

It was up to Clara to make sense of the scene: Trent, Marcia, even Ande were accounted for, and Larissa had faced Becca’s accusation unfazed. Still, something was wrong. She’d been so sure that Becca had uncovered a hidden truth. She looked around. “Where’s Kathy?” she asked her oldest sister.

“Here!” Another howl came out of Becca’s bedroom, and the cats ran to their litter mate, who was staring at a closed door. “She’s in there,” Laurel explained.

“Enough of that!” Harriet threw her bulk against the door and they all heard the gasp of the startled young woman as the big marmalade tumbled into the bathroom.

“She’s going to throw her out.” Clara turned to Laurel.

“ This is my house!” Harriet grumbled, her aggrieved mew echoing on the tile. “ Besides, this is what cats do!”

Clara looked back toward the kitchen. Becca still hadn’t emerged, and her pet was growing concerned.

“Hey, what the...?”

Laurel’s ears pricked up and she nosed the door. Clara joined her and soon they were all inside the tiny room with the young woman who was, Clara noted, fully dressed. Ignoring the two cats who had just barged in to join their sister, she was kneeling by the toilet paper roll, as if changing it. Only she seemed to be fussing more than Becca ever had.

“What’s she doing?” Laurel asked her older sister.

“She’s got something.” Harriet craned to look. But by then Kathy was washing her hands and had stepped back into the bedroom. “Something shiny...”

Standing on her hind legs, Harriet knocked the roll off its perch—and as the paper unfurled, something clattered to the tile floor. Clara gasped as it glittered and rolled, making a wide arc that stopped at her front paws. Clear as water, with a silver clasp at one end—it was Suzanne’s crystal teardrop. The one she’d been wearing the last time she’d been here.

“Hello?” Kathy was still in the bedroom. Clara’s ear flicked back to catch what she was saying. “Cambridge police? I can’t talk for long, but I think Rebecca Colwin is involved in the murder of Suzanne Liddle. I just found something that belonged to the victim in her apartment, and I’m now in fear for my life.”

Chapter 39

The three cats glared at each other. This was exactly what Laurel had warned them about. What Clara had feared, without understanding how it could come to be. An anonymous tip, and in the living room, Kathy was now urging Ande to leave. Larissa could be heard clunking down the stairwell, giving Trent directions as she led him out to the street.

“Let’s let poor Becca be,” Kathy was saying as she ushered Ande toward the door.

“What can we do?” Clara looked at her sisters.

“I have to make her wonder about Kathy…” Laurel began to concentrate, a furrow appearing in her café au lait brow. Ande, meanwhile, was calling out her farewell. Clearly, Becca was not seeing her friends out.

“She’s getting away.” Clara was panicking. “The police are going to find that thing. And Becca is just sitting there.”

“Not on my watch, ” said Harriet, and with that she nosed the crystal teardrop and with one quick dab of her tongue, slurped it up.

“ Harriet!” Clara bounced back in surprise. “ What did you do?”

“No evidence, no worries, right?” The fluffy marmalade licked her chops.

“ But — are you going to be all right?”

“I think so.” Harriet hiccupped, lifting one paw as if to cover her mouth. In the hall, they could hear Ande asking Kathy to wait.

“Becca, you okay?” Ande called to their hostess.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Becca roused herself and headed toward the door, where Kathy was visibly fidgeting.

“Poor guy.” Ande was chuckling a bit as Clara emerged from the bedroom. “I told you, you never know what’s going on in anyone else’s relationship.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Becca gave the taller woman a quick peck on the cheek. “I hope Marcia doesn’t give up on the rest of us. I mean, she’s the only one—sorry.” That was for Kathy, who was staring at the closed door as if she, too, were a cat.