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“And once the police hear that, they’ll wonder if they’re connected.” Marcia filled in the blanks.

“Why did she think that?” Ande, the voice of reason.

“Well, her ex-boyfriend told her that he’d seen someone hanging around, like a stalker. She said she didn’t think anything of it, but now she says she thinks someone put wolf’s bane in her tea.” Becca looked from one of her friends to the other. “An entire root. I know it sounds preposterous, but the tincture is really dangerous—a tablespoon or two can kill—and I don’t know how much would be in a raw root.”

“But who would put a root in someone’s tea?” Ande pinpointed one of the issues that Clara knew had been troubling Becca. “I mean, it’s kind of blatant. Like, wouldn’t you notice it when you lifted your mug? That sounds more like what you do to scare someone than to seriously hurt them.”

“Not only that, but I’m not convinced it’s actually wolf’s bane.” Becca looked around at her sister witches. When nobody spoke, she continued. “Gaia said it was, said she’s an herbalist. But I’ve been doing some research online. It doesn’t look right, and also, there’s somethingabout the smell.”

“Wolf’s bane doesn’t smell,” Marcia said softly.

“Yeah, I mean, I didn’t want to taste it, obviously. Hang on.” Becca ducked into the kitchen and returned with the baggie. “Smell that.”

Ande opened the bag and recoiled.

“I should have left it buried,”Harriet muttered.

“That smells familiar.” Marcia wisely didn’t put her face too close.

“I know. Asafetida, right?” Becca looked around for confirmation. “So maybe Margaret wanted to scare her. I mean, she was really upset about Frank, and if she thought Gaia was the other woman…”

“What about this ex-boyfriend?” Ande tilted her head at a quizzical angle. “He might be the one trying to scare her. Convince her that her new romance is too risky and that she should come back.”

After a moment’s thought, Becca shook her head. “Could be, he is the one who’s been looking out for her. Maybe he’s playing both sides, scaring her and then offering to take care of her. But he’s been warning her about a stalker, not poison. Plus, I get the feeling that he’s over her. Of course, thatdoesn’t mean the crimes aren’t connected. Gaia really thought it was wolf’s bane. Maybe Frank did, too. Sometimes, accidents can be deadly.”

Neither of her friends had a response to that.

“The first thing I have to do is get this tested.” Becca put the bag on the table. “But after that, well, I think I’ve got to hand it over to the police.”

Ande and Marcia exchanged a look.“Becs, I think you should just hand the baggie over now.” Ande spoke in the conciliatory tones of someone breaking bad news. “I know she’s a client, but this is serious.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Becca sighed. Whether it was doubt or concern over a man they only tangentially knew, a pall hung over the rest of the gathering, even as the three friends settled down to their wiccan routine. When Ande suggested a purifying ritual, Becca appeared visibly relieved. Laurel fled to the bedroom and Harriet recoiled, drawing one mitten-like paw up to her sensitive nose as Marcia waved the smoldering sage and Becca sprinkled salt. Clara made herself watch, however. These humans had no real powers, she knew that. But something about their rituals was vaguely familiar, even if it was simply that their ancestors had witnessed similar foolery through the centuries, at times with a tragic result. Clara hadn’t heard of any such nonsense in Cambridge. Not this century, anyway. But she wasn’t taking any chances. Besides, the way the three women waved their hands was positively entrancing. Almost like one of them was about to throw a toy for her to fetch.

“Look at your cat, Becca.” Clara looked up to see Ande smiling down at her, brown eyes warm with—could it be?—humor. “I swear, she’s trying to learn the ritual.”

“There is something uncanny about her.” Becca sounded unusually thoughtful as she knelt to stroke Clara’s multicolored back. “Even more than her sisters, I feel like she’s an old soul.”

In response, Clara licked Becca’s hand. Salt might not have any magic powers, but it did taste good.

Chapter 13

The ritual did not have the desired effect. Becca slept badly, tossing and turning to the point that her cats fled their regular posts by her feet long before dawn to sleep instead on the sofa.

“I knew she shouldn’t go out!” Harriet kneaded her velvet pillow before settling down. Her complaining came more from concern for Becca than from any real discomfort. At least, that was Clara’s hope, as she nestled on a footstool.“That’s what started all of this.”

“She could at least bring a new man home.” Laurel stretched to her full length along the sofa’s back, a luxury she could rarely indulge in when the three shared their person’s bed.“Then things might get interesting.”

Clara, knowing how her sister could get when she was overtired, didn’t comment. Bad enough the sealpoint had sussed out Becca’s exchange with Tiger, Laurel’s imagination was already a tad overheated. Hoping to keep her sister from reading her mind for more, the plump calico jumped up to the windowsill and watched as the rising sun warmed the red brick across the street to a rosy glow. Not long after, Becca herself rose, a tad rumpled, and promptly provided breakfast. But even as she brewed her own coffee, her gentle face seemed to firm into resolve.

“What’s up with Becca?” Once she’d cleaned her bowl, even Harriet noticed.

“She’s deciding something.” Laurel lashed her tail. More out of habit, Clara suspected, than because it served any purpose of concentration. Laurel was good at suggesting ideas to people. Whether she could always accurately fish them out, however, was a subject of debate. At times, Clara suspected her middle sister of inflating her own skills so Clara and Harriet would take her more seriously.

Even if it was simply a good guess, Laurel purred with pride when Becca muttered something about“getting it done,” and went to get dressed. Hoping for a bit more insight, Clara hopped down from her perch to follow the young woman as she prepared for whatever was to follow. Her usual attire of jeans and a sweater offered little clue, and even Laurel seemed disappointed when she joined Clara to observe their person from the bedroom doorway.

“So it’s not that new man yet.” The Siamese’s rumbling purr began to slow.

“Her new what?” Clara turned toward her sister in alarm.“Laurel, you can’t know—please don’t push Becca into something. We don’t know this Tiger.”

“Tiger.”The purr was back at full volume, Laurel’s whiskers bristling as her eyes closed in delight.

“What?” Harriet ambled up beside them. But Laurel was enjoying her private musing and Clara was inwardly kicking herself for feeding her middle sister’s fantasy as Becca reached for her coat and hat and, stepping over her pets, set out on her mystery mission.

“See if you can steer her toward this Tiger.” Laurel didn’t even look up as Clara summoned up the power to shimmy through the front door.“I do like the sound of him!”

Harriet’s round yellow eyes were the last thing Clara saw as she passed through the door.

***

After their previous outing, Clara was careful to keep Becca in sight as she made her way down the brick Cambridge sidewalk. The scents and sounds of a city could be overwhelming, but the way the young woman walked—a happy bounce, most days—made her easy for the little feline to follow. Today, however, that bounce was almost gone, replaced by a more purposeful gait. Becca was heading to the Cambridge police headquarters, a multistory brick complex in the heart of Central Square.

Despite her best intentions, though, her steps slowed as she entered the busy commercial area—and not just because of the pedestrians. While Clara looked around for stray bicycles or anything else that might trip her person up, Becca’s pace had eased to an amble.

“She is my client.” Clara could hear Becca’s justification, as well as the sense of doubt—or was it guilt?—in her voice. “I should tell her first, so she can relax. Besides, the cops are going to want to talk to her.”

At that, Clara turned from the sidewalk to take in the storefronts. They were walking down the block that held the magic shop as well as the apartment where the murdered man had lived.

“Gaia?” To Clara’s relief, Becca opted for the former, turning in at Charm and Cherish and calling out for the sales girl even as the tinkling bells announced her arrival. “Are you here?”

“As always.” The raven-haired waif appeared from the back room, her smile softening the untruth. When she saw who her visitor was, she brightened further. “Becca! You missed all the excitement.”

“Excitement?” Although her voice had dropped, Becca’s distress could still be heard.

“Oh, I didn’t mean…” Gaia waved her hands, as if to clear the air. “Not poor Frank. Oh, that was a terrible shock. I gather you…well, you know about that?”

Becca nodded.“That’s why I came to see you, actually.”

“Me?” The other girl’s voice squeaked, rather like a mouse that had briefly gotten into the apartment. Unlike that tiny invader, Gaia didn’t immediately scurry beneath a counter, never to be seen again.

“Yes.” Becca began to sound more confident. “I have some good news. But in light of all that’s happened, I was wondering if you still wanted to continue your case.” A pause, and Clara could see the shadow of doubt crossing her face. “I took a moment to examine the root you dropped off, Gaia.”

The sales girl’s gaze dropped to the counter before her, as if she could hide behind those blue-black bangs.

“I’m not an herbalist, but I’m pretty sure this isn’t wolf’s bane.” Becca spoke gently, but with purpose, as she held the baggie up. “But I was thinking I should bring it over to the Cambridge police, just to be sure. Because even if it isn’t poisonous, somebody was trying to scare you, and that could be dangerous. Especially in light of what happened with Frank.”

Gaia didn’t look up, so Becca took a deep breath and continued talking. “I like to think no actual harm was intended. But sometimes a scare could cause someone to, well, you know…especially if that someone already has a health condition. Like a heart condition.” The more jumbled she got, the lower Gaia’s head hung. Clara waited, hoping her person would just come out and explain her theory—that Margaret, or maybe even Tiger, had planted the root to scare Gaia and had, in fact, planted something similar for Frank to find, but with more serious consequences.

“I’m sorry. I’m making a hash out of this. I just wanted to let you know that I don’t think you were ever in any actual danger. I guess I should just go tell the cops.”

“No.” Gaia raised her head finally, eyeing first the front window and then the back door, looking at everything, it seemed, except Becca. “No, you don’t have to do that.”

“But if Marg—I mean, if someone accidentally provoked…”

Something in Gaia’s face stopped her short.

“You knew this wasn’t wolf’s bane?”

The slightest motion of that dark head indicated her assent, as Gaia turned back to the front of the shop, hoping perhaps that help would walk in the door.“Yeah.” Her voice as soft as a kitten’s. “It’s asafetida.”

“And you knew that because…” Breath escaped in one long, drawn-out “oh” as comprehension washed over Becca. She rested the bag on the counter and took in the young woman before her. “Would you like to tell me what happened?”

“Well, when I said I’m learning about herbalism, I really meant it. I mean, I’m going to.” The shop girl exhaled noisily. “Okay, I bought a plant, right? I was at that Spirit of Change festival and it was really pretty. It had these blue flowers and spikey leaves, and I figured this placecould use some livening up. So I brought it in. I mean, I knew it had power. The lady who sold it to me said it was a healing plant. I thought it looked nice in the window.”

Becca waited without comment.

“Then Elizabeth, you know, Margaret’s sister? She came in all furious, talking about how my new plant was poisonous and how could I leave it where a child could get at it, and blah-blah-blah. She showed it to me in one of those books.” A pointed look at the packed shelves. “Hey, there’s lots there. I can’t read everything. Anyway, I was going to take it home, only then it disappeared.”

“You said some things had gone missing.”

“Yeah, okay, one thing—my plant. Maybe someone took off with it. It was really pretty. But I can’t help but think Elizabeth, that old witch—I mean, in a bad way—took it. I’d told her I was going to take it home.”

“She may have seen it as a danger.”

“I guess.” Gaia didn’t sound convinced. “Anyway, I got so mad and then, well, Margaret started sniffing around, and I thought I might need some leverage. I figured she’d found out about Frank, though we were already basically over and—”

“Hang on.” Becca reached into her bag for a pad. “When did this all this happen?”

Gaia rolled her eyes.“I don’t know. Maybe, like, five days ago? Yeah, I got it last weekend and that old—Elizabeth saw it, like, right away.”

“So you thought about it for a few days?”

Gaia winced.“It wasn’t like that. Only, it wasn’t until, like, Friday that Frank started wigging out on me. Talking about taking off for Mexico or someplace. I wasn’t going to go with him, but I figured something had happened.”

“So you saw him on Friday?”

“Barely.” The aggrieved girlfriend. “I mean, he said he had to go back to work. That’s usually what he tellsher.”

Becca bit back her response.

“I mean, I’d made the place nice and everything.”

“The candle that I asked you about?”

A shrug.“Maybe. They all cost too much anyway. But he wasn’t into it. Just kept going on about having to take care of something. Told me to be ready to go.”

“And were you?”

“You kidding? I know about their arrangement. I figured he was just trying to scam some more money out of the old bag. I mean, he was just wigging. And his old lady was already all over me, so…” Another shrug, like the response was self-evident.

“So you came to see me, to put the blame on her.”

“Look, I was under a lot of pressure. But I’ll be okay now, I think.”

“You think you’ll be okay?” Becca tilted her head. “What do you mean?”

“I wasn’t making it all up.” Gaia leaned in. “I mean, Tiger says he’s still worried about me, but really…after the latest?”

Becca waited. Clearly, the woman in front of her was drawing out her story for dramatic intent.

“Maybe you didn’t hear, but the neighbors are saying that the wife is always the obvious suspect.” When Becca still didn’t respond, Gaia went on. “Of course, they don’t even know about her sister, most of them. Everyone just knew Margaret and Frank weren’t getting along, and that she had a temper. Though they could’ve been in on it.”

“You think she—theymade him have a heart attack? They brought it about?” Becca’s voice trailed off. Clara looked up, waiting. Surely, her person was going to bring up the previous night’s discussion. The subtleties of poisonings seemed inconsequential to a cat. The only real way to dispatch something was with a good, fast shake. But cats would never be so brutalto one of their own, anyway. And secretly, Clara had always been grateful for that one mouse’s speedy retreat.

“Some heart attack.” A dramatic eye roll dismissed that. “Tiger thinks there’s something else going on, maybe something with Frank’s business, such as it is. Some kind of conspiracy, even.”

Becca looked faintly green, but Gaia didn’t seem to notice.

“Makes me kind of glad her old witch of a sister got rid of my plant. Right? Because otherwise they might be looking at me.”

“I–I guess.” Becca’s brow furrowed, as it did when she was thinking.

“So, we can toss this, right?” Gaia poked at the baggie as if it were a hairball. “I mean, I’ll pay you for your time.”

“You don’t have to.” Becca sounded relieved. “Though maybe Tiger should talk to the police. I mean, if he’s seen someone suspicious hanging around…”

“Yeah, that’s not going to happen.” With a shrug, the goth girl dismissed her sometime boyfriend’s concern. She seemed lighter now and was already turning toward the shelves behind her, ready to re-start her day. “He’s a bit of a drama king, anyway.”

Her own concerns dismissed, the young woman didn’t seem to think anything of it as Becca nodded and left the shop without another word. Clara, however, thought the behavior odd. As she watched, Becca strode, quickly but not breaking into a run, back toward the end of the block. Before Clara could catch up, however, she stopped cold, inches from a dark opening in the brick wall at the edge of the storefront. Carefully shading herself, Clara passed by and immediately saw what had caught Becca’s eye.

A shadow—no, a person had slipped into the yawning alley and was moving slowly along its wall. That had been what Becca spied outside the window while Gaia had been going on about the store’s owner, Clara realized. Someone walking too slowly and too close to the store to be an ordinary pedestrian.

Clara kicked herself for not paying attention. She could have easily slipped out and followed the figure in the shadows. Even if she couldn’t have passed along her findings to Becca, she might have prevailed on Laurel to convey some message. Only now, it was too late. There was no way that Clara was going to leave her person.

Instead, she stood by, guarding faithfully while her person waited, frozen in place, as the figure crept to the end of the alley. For a moment, he was caught in the sun—blond-tipped hair, denim jacket, and eyes wide with fright as he turned the corner and disappeared.

Chapter 14

“No!” Clara wailed as Becca took off down the alley.“Becca, don’t!” Of course, being a cat, her mewl of horror came out as a caterwaul—a faint one at that, her ordinary cat voice muted by the magic that helped her blend into the shadows around her. More like the wheeze of a passing bus or the squeak of a bicycle’s brakes than a cry of panic, her yowl blended in with the street noise of the busy Monday morning and died away, unnoticed.

Not that this mattered. Even if the young woman in the alley could have heard her terrified pet, she wouldn’t have understood her. Not unless Clara could suddenly assume Laurel’s gift of implanting ideas in a human’s mind, her pet thought with growing frustration.

But Clara had no time for envy or even the most natural sibling resentment. And so, although her own fur was standing on end with fear, Clara darted after Becca, determined to do what she could to aid the person she loved.

“Bother!” Unseen by Clara, Becca stopped short, and only by a quick leap sideways did the little cat manage to avoid colliding with her at the passage’s end. Panting, more from the stress than the exertion, the calico looked up as her person craned her head, peeking beyond the brick wall. Thealley, Clara could now see, opened onto a paved lot, barely big enough for the two cars and the dumpster parked there. Unaware of the faithful feline nervously shadowing her every move, Becca slipped out to make a careful examination of the space. She started with the cars. As Clara watched, the young woman crouched beside the first, rising up so that only the maroon cloche and the few curls that escaped were visible as she peered through the windows. She needn’t have been so careful. These vehicles were empty; their passenger compartments gave off no vibrations, their engines cool and still. Clara could have saved Becca the effort—and the worry—of examining them so carefully had she been able to communicate with her person.

That lack continued to try the pet’s patience, but her own superior senses helped her keep her temper. By the time Becca had progressed to the dumpster, checking around the back before peeking inside, Clara had even begun to relax. Just as they hadn’t picked up any signs of life in those cars, her whiskers hadn’t picked up the vibrations of anything man-sized between the metal receptacle and the brick wall. Becca might not like the family of rodents who had made their home in the storm drain tucked in the corner, but Clara knew they were no real threat to her person, even if their presence might make her squeal.

If Clara was hoping that Becca would ignore the metal door that led out to the alley, however, she was disappointed. As she watched, the young woman strode up to it and tried the handle. Locked tight, the latch barely responded to her energetic pull; the dull gray door not at all. With a sigh of exasperation, she proceeded to examine the frame and then the wall. A frosted window to the right of the door was set too high for her to reach, and no bell or buzzer could be seen. Increasingly exasperated, Becca rapped on the door with her knuckle, but the thick metal only gave up a dull thud in return. Only after a few more tries did she finally give up. But instead of moving along, as her pet would have hoped, Becca began to backtrack. Perusing the little lot and the adjacent street one more time, she peered down the alley and then started the longer walk around the block back up to the store’s front.

“Her boyfriend was right.” Becca was speaking to herself, but Clara, trotting to keep up, heard her loud and clear. So clearly, in fact, that she found it a bit unnerving. Becca’s words could have been her own. “I need to reach her,” she was saying. “To warn her…”

But all the cat could do was tag along back to the brightly painted little shop, which was now locked tight.

“Gaia?” Becca called as she knocked on the glass door, and then leaned in, trying to peek through a green and yellow yin-and-yang symbol. “Are you there?”

Becca squinted. The morning sun reflected off the glass, making it difficult for her to see if her former client was inside or, indeed, if the little shop’s lights were even on. Clara could have told her that nothing was stirring, but the neatly lettered sign taped to the door—Back in Fifteen!—should have been enough. Still, Becca kept at it for at least that long before turning with a sigh and slumping back against the metal frame.

Clara waited with her, tail curled around her paws, willing herself to be grateful for the respite. But although she would have appeared the model of patience if her person could have seen her, the little cat fretted. The shop girl had made no attempt to hide her own erratic work habits. The fact that she had a sign to post should have reminded Becca of this. Besides, if something had happened—Clara’s ears flicked in search of any indication of a struggle that she might have somehow missed—there was little her person could do about it now. As Becca waited, one foot tapping in impatience, Clara found herself channeling her sister Harriet. Maybe it would be better if Becca never left the house.

Laurel would argue with that, of course, and as the minutes ticked past, Clara found herself wondering just what her slinky sister had been able to discern. Could her part-Siamese sibling have picked up traces of that young man, Tiger? Or had she somehow implanted a willingness to flirt in their person? Clara had long felt pretty sure of the extent of her own powers—the shading and the ability to pass through doors pretty much went paw in paw, as if her corporeality was tied in part to her visible self. What her sisters could do, though, she wasn’t completely sure. Harriet was so lazy, she rarely pressed her powers. Summoning up a pillow or a new toy was apparently all she was interested in. And while Clara had been reasonably confident that Laurel’s abilities extended only to implanting suggestions in the minds of humans, her middle sister’s recent brags had the ring of truth.

If only her siblings trusted her more, Clara thought, her ears beginning to sag. If only they shared more. Acted more like family. Then maybe she wouldn’t worry so much about the person they had all adopted. If only Laurel weren’t so obsessed with Becca’s love life. The tawny sister was awfully quick to incite interest in just about any possible suitor, Clara thought. Although there had been that one man…

Her musings were interrupted as Becca’s phone rang, startling her out of her thoughts.

“Hello?” She answered with something like suspicion. “Becca Colwin.”

She stood up straight as she spoke. A sign, Clara knew, that she might be addressing a potential client.

“Oh!” An outburst of surprise as her posture relaxed. “Tiger. Of course I remember you.”

Clara strained her ears forward, hoping to catch the other side of the conversation. From the faint color that rose to Becca’s cheeks, she suspected it wasn’t about business—or not completely. But as Becca put her shoulders back, clearing her throat, Clara realized that perhaps her person had made a decision. Whether it was going to be a good one, the little calico couldn’t tell.

“Why, yes, I’d like to get together.” With that, Becca began to walk, leaving the colorful storefront behind.

Clara’s ears flicked back in alarm.“This is Laurel’s doing!” A low growl rose beneath the white fur of her chest.“Not every man is good boyfriend material.”

Worse, Clara realized as she trotted along behind her person, Becca wasn’t going to the police station. Despite what she’d told her coven, what she’d promised Ande and Marcia, Becca was heading home. For the first time in Clara’s memory, the familiar path didn’t fill her with joy. Between the plans she was hearing and the direction Becca had chosen, it was clear her person was getting more deeply involved, just when they had all hoped she was pulling back from the investigation.

“Lunch sounds great,” Becca was saying. And there was nothing the little cat could do.

When Becca’s phone rang again, Clara dared to hope. But the young woman didn’t even slow down as she took the call.

“Hey, Maddy. What’s up?” Clara picked up her own pace, hoping to hear Becca’s friend talk some sense into her. “Yeah, I know. I was just at Charm and Cherish. No, wait…”

Becca rolled her eyes as her friend interrupted. It was a move Laurel had tried on occasion, with comic results. But while Harriet had chuckled, Clara kept her jaw firmly clenched. Laurel was trying to relate to their person, at least, and her youngest sister believed such an impulse should be encouraged.

“No, that’s just it.” Becca was speaking again. “I’d already told Margaret that I couldn’t take her on as a client, and I went to tell Gaia that she wasn’t in any real danger. Her case was, well, I can’t get into details, but let’s just say we both decided that I shouldn’t pursue it. Only, Maddy, now I’m not so sure.”

The faint squawking from the phone stopped her in her tracks.

“No, it’s not like that.” Becca started walking again, albeit slowly, her voice as thoughtful as her face. “I mean, yes, I don’t have clients to spare. I’d hoped to make this a going concern by the time the unemployment ran out. And, you know, I’ve done some good—”

Another burst of sound, a little softer, cut Becca off.

“Thanks, Maddy. I may need to pick up some freelance after all.” Becca sounded so down her cat was beginning to regret her own wishes. “But, you see, I can’t come down to the office today. No, I’m not going to the police—or not yet. I’m having lunch with Tiger, that bike messenger I told you about.”

From the sounds coming through the phone, Maddy was as surprised and upset as the calico.

“It’s not a date.” Becca emphasized the last word, even as her cheeks grew pink. “I mean, I do believe he and Gaia are over, but still, that would just be too awkward.”

Becca raised her hand, as if her friend could see her.“Maddy, listen. Gaia told me that she and Tiger still talk, and he told her that he thinks she’s still in danger. And when I went down to tell her about the root, I saw someone hanging around the shop. Lurking, actually. So I want to talk to Tiger, hear why he thinks Gaia’s in danger and if it has anything to do with whatever happened to Frank Cross. I gather he’s not keen to talk to the police, but maybe he’ll talk to me and then I can take it to the cops. Because this guy? He wasn’t doing anything criminal, but he was clearly watching the entrance. It was creepy.

“No, Maddy, I didn’t call 9-1-1. The guy disappeared as soon as he saw me watching him. And I couldn’t just tell Gaia. That’s the problem. I tried to, but when I went back to the store, it was all locked up. No, I think she just she took off. She has a habit of doing that. But just in case,or in case there is some connection to Frank, I want to hear what Tiger has to say. And I want someone who cares about her to know what I saw.”

Chapter 15

“We’ve got to do something.” As soon as Clara slipped into the apartment, she rounded up her sisters. Waking Harriet from a nap was never easy, but the sense of urgency that had set her fur on end had made the calico fierce.“Becca’s getting more involved with this Gaia girl, and there’s something weird going on!”

“I thought you didn’t want us using our powers?” Harriet wasn’t happy about having her nap interrupted.“Don’t let the human know, you always say. Your sister and I have been trying to give you some leeway on this, you know.”

“I know.”Clara dipped her head in a hasty feline apology.“But I’m worried. And if Becca gets in trouble, who knows what will happen to us?”

“Maybe we’ll find someplace better.” Laurel had been sleeping, as well but Clara knew better than to mention it. The slender Siamese liked to present herself as always watchful.“Someone who leads a more interesting life.”

Clara bit down on her initial response and took a deep breath through her bi-color nose instead. Laurel was always cranky when she woke up, she reminded herself.“Part of this trouble might involve a new man.” Clara offered up the half-truth like a small mouse, the kind likely to interest her flirtatious sister.

“I knew it.” Laurel stretched seductively, then began to groom, her customary calm returning.“And this is a problem, why?”

“It’s not the man,” Clara began to explain when Becca came into the room.“It’s something he told—”

“Look at you three.” Becca beamed down at them. “So nice to see you’re not fighting for once.”

“Don’t smirk.”Clara couldn’t help it. Laurel had a way of arching one eye that drove her mad.“Please,” she muted her criticism.“I’m trying to think of what we can do—what we ought to do. I mean, within the rules.”

“Good luck with that,” her middle sister purred and sauntered off, tail high, to the bedroom. Clara knew Laurel was going to get involved in Becca’s wardrobe choices. What she didn’t know was how to stop her.

“This isn’t a date.” She trotted after her sister, her mew softening with a slight pleading tone.“She wants to talk to him.”

“Exactly.”Laurel leaped to the bed without sparing her sister a glance.“And he’ll take her so much more seriously if she would only lose that chunky sweater. I mean, who doesn’t like Angora?”

“Angora?”Harriet lumbered in.“You mean that pink sweater?”She reached up to groom her wide face, revealing a few silky, pink strands stuck in her claws.

“You dragged it down from the shelf.” Clara closed her eyes, but not before she saw Harriet pull the fibers free and swallow them.

“Silly!” Laurel hissed.“I had plans for that sweater.”

“So did I.”Unruffled by either her sisters or the pink yarn, Harriet continued bathing, straining to lick what on any other cat would have been the small of her back and nearly toppling over in the process.“It was very soft.”

“You missed a spot.”Resigned, Clara reached over to hook a tuft of the super-fine wool in her claw.

“Clara! What have you gotten into?” The little calico gave a startled mew as hands reached around her middle, pulling her up in the air. “Is that from my new sweater?”

Unable to explain, Clara could only blink in silent apology. On the bed, Laurel’s blue eyes closed in a satisfied smile.

“I could let her know, you know. Point out that Harriet was the one to pull that sweater down from its shelf.” Laurel’s low feline muttering was too quiet for human ears.“I could also suggest to her that we’re more than she knows. That we are, in fact, royalty.”

“Please don’t.”Clara turned toward her sister in silent appeal. It was too late. Becca was carrying her to the bedroom doorway, and then she closed the door behind her.

With mounting frustration, she waited outside as Becca got ready for her lunchtime meet, knowing full well that Laurel, if not Harriet, would be turning the situation to their own ends. Pacing outside the shut door, and unable to pass through without alarming Becca, Clara fumed, and then began to blame herself. Of course Laurel had jumped on the romantic potential of lunch with a new man. Clara hadn’t explained the situation properly. In part, she had to admit, that was because of her own confusion over what was going on.

For starters, Becca had said that her meeting with the bike messenger wasn’t a date. But even without the astute feline hearing that picked up a quickening heartbeat and a slight shallowness in her breath, Clara knew her person well enough to sense that she was intrigued by the dark-haired man. More intrigued, the calico feared, than she had been by anyone since her longtime boyfriend had broken up with her the previous spring.

That had been touch and go for a while, too. Matt, Becca’s ex, had regretted their breakup, even though he had been the one to initiate it. The computer programmer had, in fact, tried to woo Becca back, and there had been moments when Clara had feared he would succeed. But the puppy-ish programmer had cheated on Becca, and, cute as he was, she knew hecouldn’t be trusted. For a long while after that, Clara had worried that Becca would never again trust any man.

That didn’t mean she wanted her person to just jump into something with this Tiger. And despite what Laurel thought, that wasn’t simply because of his name. Clara knew she was more protective of Becca than her middle sister would like. But Laurel hadn’t been the one who had stayed by Becca’s side after Matt had broken up with her. Laurel and Harriet both knew the faithless Matt had done their person wrong, and they had taken the insult personally, as all good cats would. Still, it had been Clara the heartbroken girl had cried with, cuddling her close as if her soft fur were the only comfort she would ever find. Clara didn’t know if she could find a way to explain how sad that time had been. Laurel might be her sister, but sometimes she felt like she and her littermates were not only not a real family. They were like different species entirely.

Chapter 16

Tiger was waiting when Becca arrived at the coffeehouse forty minutes later. Clara smelled the bike messenger—that mix of sweat, gear grease, and sandalwood—even before she spotted him uncoiling a heavy chain from his bag.

“Tiger! Thanks for coming out.” Becca walked up to him as he squatted to weave the chain between the spokes of his front tire and the body of his pared-down bike. “Are you working?”

“What? Oh, the bike?” Tiger blinked up at her. “No, I ride everywhere.”

As he stood, she noticed a phone-like device attached to his belt.“Is that a pager?”

“You’ve got a good eye.” He tilted his head, looking rather like Laurel as he took her in. “Yeah, my boss is old school. But, hey,” he said, unclipping the device and tucking it into his pocket, “like I said, I’m not working.”

Becca inhaled, and Clara looked up in anticipation, not knowing if Becca had another question or was simply going to respond. But Tiger had already reached for the coffeehouse door, which he pulled open.“After you.”

“Thanks,” she said, even as Clara waited for more, and led the way to a butcher block table in the corner.

“Not a date.”Clara repeated Becca’s words, hoping to impress them back on her person.

The corner table offered a modicum of privacy, the better to discuss the case. Clara didn’t need any of Laurel’s powers to follow her person’s reasoning. But Clara had also seen her color rise as she walked by Tiger. The bike messenger was handsome in an outlaw way, with that dramatic dark hair and long, lean muscles sculpted by hours on the bike.

“Just a conversation,” the little cat murmured from the shadows as they placed their orders—a turkey sandwich for Becca, a veggie wrap for Tiger. Even as she settled in to observe while they ate, Clara found herself once again wishing that she had more of Laurel’s particular power.

“I wanted to talk because I gather you’re worried about Gaia.” Maybe it was simply that her part-Siamese sister was on her mind. Maybe it was the blue eyes, but as the bike messenger ferried their sandwiches over from the counter, it occurred to Clara that he really did look like Laurel. Maybe it was the way he tilted his head as he waited, silently, for her to continue. “Do you think she’s in danger? I’m sorry, I don’t mean to pry, but she and I were talking.”

A nod.“She told you what’s going on?” He raised his brows.

“She said that you two still talk…” This time, there was no mistaking the question behind Becca’s pause.

“Well, yeah.” The man sitting opposite her shrugged. “We’re friends.”

“I know how hard it is to stay friends with an ex.”

The deep sigh that followed turned into a chuckle.“Tell me about it,” he said, the relief giving his deep voice a lift. Then, seeing Becca’s wide-eyed response, he caught himself. “You don’t have to. I mean, I’m just glad you understand.”

“I do.” Becca lowered her eyes as Clara scrambled to her feet. There was nothing the little cat could do. Not here, where she was, for all intents and purposes, invisible, and suddenly appearing would only distress her person. Still, she couldn’t resist reaching up with one paw. Maybe she should touch her person. Distract her from the intense young man facing her. If she only reached out…

For a moment, Clara wondered if perhaps her ardent desire was enough. Or perhaps, she told herself, Becca had more resolve than her pet gave her credit for. Because, after taking a deep breath, Becca dove in.“Anyway, I am kind of still working with her, and I’m hoping you can share why you’re still worried about her.”

“Well, just because we broke up doesn’t mean…” He shrugged as he took a bite of his veggie wrap.

“No, I’m sorry. I meant if you had specific reasons to be concerned.” Becca leaned in, her own sandwich forgotten. “I’d like to know what they are.”

Silence while he chewed and took another bite.

“She said you saw someone hanging around?”

“I don’t know.” He shook his head even as he tore into the wrap. “I don’t know if I should be talking about this.”

“If it helps, I think you may be on to something.” Becca spoke softly, although Clara’s sensitive ears had no trouble picking up the intensity of her tone. “And it worries me, because I don’t think Gaia is taking your concerns seriously.” No response. “I’ve heard that maybe Frank Cross didn’t die from natural causes.”

That got his attention.“Like an accident, or that he was killed?”

Becca shrugged.“There were an awful lot of cops around for what was supposed to be simply a medical emergency.” Her voice dropped to near a whisper. “Someone told me that Margaret Cross was taken in for questioning.”

Tiger leaned in with a speed that set Clara’s fur on edge. “You think she’s a suspect?”

To her pet’s relief, Becca sat back in her own chair, considering. “I don’t know,” she said, her focus on something Clara couldn’t see. “I wish I understood what was going on better. I don’t see Mrs. Cross as a…a dangerous person.”

“She might have had motive.” Tiger’s words got her attention back. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to say anything, but, well, it’s true.”

“I think I may know what you’re talking about.” Becca bit her lip. “But please, tell me what you mean.”

Now it was Tiger’s turn to stare off into space, as if he were gathering courage from the list of coffees available. When he turned back, he seemed to have made a resolution. “Frank was having a fling with Gaia.” He stated this as fact, although Clara knew how much this could hurt a human. “That wasn’t why we broke up,” he was quick to add, almost like he could hear her thoughts. “I mean, we were never that serious. But this thing with Frank? Well, I think he was kind of obsessed with her.”

“And you know this…how?” Clara could have leaped into her person’s lap and begun to knead, she was so happy. Becca’s question showed that she was being smartand careful.

Tiger dropped his gaze, but he didn’t seem to see the remainder of his lunch. “I’m not a stalker, okay? But my boss has had a lot of deliveries for Mr. Cross recently. I’ve been down at that car lot of his a fair amount, as well as around here most days. So I see when someone keeps showing up.”

Becca gestured for him to continue, waiting.

“And I heard some of the fights he had with his wife.” Tiger was talking to the table, one long finger tracing the wood grain. “‘Margaret, cut it out! Margaret, please stop!’ I heard him yell that a lot. And he wouldn’t think to protect himself from her.”

“So you think Margaret might have hurt him?” The words came slowly, as if Becca were trying them out.

Tiger shrugged.“Maybe.”

“But I thought they were making up. I heard him on the phone with her the day he died. He started off by telling her she was wrong, that she should calm down and everything. But I think he was basically apologizing.”

He shook his head slowly, his blue eyes sad.“I don’t know,” he said. “I mean, I don’t want to think it was anyone. But you said that word is his heart attack was suspicious, right? Well, they do say that poison is a woman’s weapon.”

Becca recoiled, and then broke out into laughter.“Sorry,” she said as he stared, his handsome face blank. “I thought maybe you were in on it.”

“Excuse me?” His voice was barely a whisper.

“Gaia.” Becca sighed and shook her head. “She shouldn’t have, but it didn’t go anywhere. Maybe I’m not such a bad detective after all.”

“I’m still missing something here.”

“Gaia’s case. The reason she wanted to hire me. The poison in her mug.” Faced with Tiger’s baffled stare, she explained about the root and how her coven identified it as asafetida, as well as her friends’ suggestion that her ex-boyfriend might have played a role. “Even when she confessed, I wondered if maybe she was covering—covering for you. You know, if you’d wanted to scare her. And so when you said poison…I’m sorry.” Becca was trying to dig herself out. “In conclusion, it was stupid, but it was harmless.”

“Ah.” Now it was his turn to chuckle, and he picked up his sandwich again. “Yeah, that sounds like Gaia, all right.”

“Anyway, I know she was hoping to frame Margaret—and I’m not saying Margaret doesn’t have reason to be angry. But I’m more concerned about someone else.”

“Someone else?” Tiger leaned forward. For a moment, Clara thought he was going to reach for her, and she strained to see over the edge of the tabletop.

Becca’s head bobbed enthusiastically. “When I left the shop, I was sure I saw someone—a man with light hair. Maybe dyed blond. He was acting strange. Lurking, kind of, like he didn’t want to be seen. I followed him down the alley, but then I lost him.”

“Did you tell Gaia?” Tiger attacked his sandwich with renewed fervor.

“I didn’t get a chance to,” Becca confessed. “She was gone when I went back. And then you called, and I remembered that she said you’d been worrying about her. And I thought she said you’d seen someone hanging around too?” She paused, waiting for an answer.

Tiger only laughed, a small, sad laugh.“Gaia,” he said the name softly, more to himself than Becca. “Yeah, I did. But she’s not the type to listen to anyone. Certainly not her ex. And what was I going to say? That I was afraid her new romance was going to get her into trouble?”

“You wanted her to be careful.” Becca repeated the words. “And you didn’t want her seeing her boss’s husband, right? So you didn’t see anyone?”

“I wanted her to be careful. I didn’t expect any of this.” Tiger tilted his head. It wasn’t a nod, exactly, and it wasn’t a shrug. It was an acknowledgment of an awkward situation. Still, as Becca watched her lunch partner’s face, she must have wondered. Clara certainly found herself considering the options. Gaia had already shown herself to be a liar. Might she be covering again? Lying for her former lover? What, after all, did Becca know about this man and his motives? About his strangely spicy scent? Tiger had clearly wanted Gaia to quit seeing Frank. Might he have gone to other lengths? Done something desperate to stop her? Or to shield her from an injured wife’s wrath?

Chapter 17

“I’d really like to talk to Margaret.”

True to her word, Becca had called Maddy to check in after the lunch. But while she did her best to reassure her friend that the meeting had not been a date, she wasn’t able to put her fears entirely to rest. “I know you don’t want me involved in this, Maddy. And I tried to get out of this case—these cases—but I am involved, whether I like it or not. And, well, I know what Tiger said, but something about it just doesn’t sit right. I mean, I don’t see Margaret Cross as a murderer.”

From the way Becca held the phone, Clara could tell that her friend was yelling. While that had to be unpleasant—no cat liked loud noises—she was grateful that Maddy felt protective. And relieved that Becca wasn’t taking the bike messenger’s story at face value.

“Don’t worry! I am going to the cops. I’m on my way now.” Becca was beginning to sound exasperated. “I just wish I could talk to Margaret first. I mean, I knew she was angry. I could almost understand it if she’d lashed out. But would she really have killed him? Have planned it in advance?

“When Tiger said poison, I figured he was simply referring to Gaia’s, uh, incident.” Becca might be addressing her friend, but Clara had the feeling her person was really talking to herself. “But now I’m wondering… There are some poisons that would induce or mimic cardiac arrest. I was reading…”

More yelling stopped that train of thought. But Becca kept walking, even as she appeared to change her approach.“You’re right, Maddy. I’m not going to get involved in what happened to Frank Cross. I’m leaving that to the police. But maybe I’ll just stop into the store first. Because Gaia really ought to be talking to the authorities too, and maybe I can get her to come with me. She and Frank were involved, and she might know something. Maybe she heard him talk about an enemy or someone who had a grudge or something.”

The voice on the other end of the line sounded nominally less frantic. Or maybe, Clara realized, Maddy was simply tired.

“No, I didn’t ask her about money. I’m leaving that to the police, just like you said.” Her voice dropped to a near whisper. “Besides, between you and me, I don’t think he had much of a business. Margaret kind of implied that, too. But still, Gaia might know more than she thinks she knows, if you know what I mean.”

That one almost made Clara stop cold. Becca was beginning to sound as logical as a cat. Only as she caught up with her person did she realize that the young woman hadn’t yet aired all of her concerns.

“There’s more, Maddy. That root? It wasn’t wolf’s bane. It wasn’t anything poisonous at all. Gaia planted it in her own mug to get back at Margaret.” She stopped walking. “I guess that’s all going to come out. I don’t want to get Gaia in trouble with the police. It sounds like it was just a stupid prank. But especially if the cops are now saying that Frank’s death was something other than a heart attack, then they should know. I wish I could give Margaret a heads-up about that. Or her sister. A sister might see things that a wife wouldn’t, and that Elizabeth seems prettysharp to me.”

She paused, and Clara waited. But Becca didn’t bring up the other possibility that she had considered out loud—that Gaia hadn’t put the root in her own mug but knew who had. That Tiger had done it to scare his ex into giving up her new lover, or at least to take his warnings seriously. Clara didn’t know if Becca had taken the bike messenger’s shrugged denial as truth, or if she still suspected him of some complicity. She did know that her person was smarter than her sisters gave her credit for, though, and the implication that she might be protecting the handsome young man for some reason made the loving feline uneasy.

But even as she mulled over this possibility, Becca kept talking.

“Besides, Maddy, I can’t help but wonder, what if Gaia didn’t plant that thing herself? I mean, Gaia admits to having an affair with Frank, so maybe it was a warning, someone trying to scare her. And that could mean she’s in real danger.”

***

Becca picked up her pace after that, heading back into the heart of Central Square, where the Cambridge police had their precinct offices. Clara had accompanied Becca to the red brick building before, and they’d both come out unscathed. Still, the little cat found herself on edge, every whisker alert, as they drew closer. Sure enough, Becca’s pace slowed ever so slightly as they entered the bustling business district. It was only coincidental, Clara told herself, that they were also approaching the block that held both the Cross’s apartment and the magic shop where Gaia worked.

“She’s only thinking that she wants to talk to Gaia again,”the little cat thought.“She wishes she could have gotten her to come talk to the police with her. She told her friend that.”

But even though Clara trusted her person more than Maddy apparently did, Clara couldn’t help but feel a shiver of fear as they neared the brick building. After all, Becca had also talked about stopping back at the widow’s apartment and trying to enlist her sister. Clara didn’t relish another encounter with the weird Elizabeth, especially now, when Becca should be handing thiscase over to the police. There was something eerie about that woman, thought the cat. Distracted, she nearly collided with her person as Becca stopped short at the corner.

“Gaia?” The name burst out in surprise. Sure enough, the salesgirl was standing on the sidewalk, one hand pushing her jet-black hair back from her face. From the looks of her eyeliner, she’d been crying. “I was going to stop by the store—”

“Good thing you didn’t.” She turned away, as if to wipe her face. Then, with a defiant toss of her head, she grabbed Becca by the arm. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Why? What happened?” Becca resisted, looking back toward the glass storefront with its colorful symbols. The skulking figure from before was nowhere in sight, but Gaia acted like she was in a hurry, pulling at her as she began to walk quickly away.

“I’ve been fired. That’s what. At least, I think I have.” She mugged, trying to smile. Only it didn’t quite take. After they’d crossed the street, retracing Becca’s steps, the goth girl slowed her stride and let her head hang down.

“I’m sorry.” Becca immediately went into comfort mode. “What happened?”

Clara looked from her person to the downcast girl at her side. All the options—the absences from her post, the possible theft, the philandering—ran through her mind. Becca had to be aware of these, and yet she appeared as focused and concerned as she’d be if one of Clara’s sisters had started to limp. Becca was tender hearted, Clara knew. She loved her for it, but atthe same time, it made her worry about her person, too.

Gaia took so long to respond that they’d reached the end of the block. By then, Becca had her arm around the other girl. Taking a deep breath, she asked, her voice gentle, “Was it because of Frank?”

Gaia started, and her quick intake of breath must have been audible even to human ears. Exhaling even more noisily, she nodded, and reached up to wipe a tear that had escaped to roll down her cheek.“What a jerk,” she said.

Becca’s eyebrows went up at that, but she held her tongue. After another pause—not so long this time—Gaia began to speak.

“That was stupid,” she said, staring off down the block as if she could transport herself even farther away. “I didn’t even really like him that much, you know?”

Becca wisely chose not to respond. Sure enough, Gaia kept on talking.“He was funny. He used to come into the shop all the time and flirt with me, even though he was this little pudgy bald guy. Like he had all this confidence, you know? He’d bring me a muffin when I opened in the morning. He used to say I was too skinny. I needed someone to look after me. He’d tell me I should get more sleep. Take more breaks. At some point, he started massaging my shoulders. And, you know, he was really good at it. And then he asked me to read the Tarot for him. A private reading in the back, even though he knew I couldn’t really read the cards.”

She broke off and blinked back more tears, though if they were for the man who had died or the job she had lost, Clara couldn’t tell.

“Anyway, it wasn’t more than a couple of times. It wasn’t like I was going to be his girlfriend or anything.” Clara saw Becca open her mouth to comment and then close it again, unable to find the words. “If it weren’t for that old witch of a sister-in-law showing up, I don’t think anyone would have found out.”

“You mean Elizabeth?” Becca latched onto the name.

“Yeah, it was right after she stole my plant. She marched in and said something about ‘dangerous friends.’ I knew then the jig was up.”

For a moment, Clara thought Becca was going to speak out. Gaia was being as unreasonable as Laurel or Harriet. When she didn’t, Clara had to wonder once again at the similarities between them. When Becca finally did respond, it was in a deliberate tone that Clara knew meant she had put some thought into her words.

“Gaia, we need to go to the police.” When the other girl started to speak, Becca put up her hand to hold her off. “Not about the asafetida. I understand that you were upset, and I think we can just pretend that didn’t happen. But about what you heard or may have heard about Frank. And now with this about your plant… I spoke to Tiger.”

The other girl stared at her like she’d grown a second head, the black smears around her eyes adding dramatic emphasis. “Tiger? How did you…?”

“I am a witch detective.” The corners of Becca’s lips twitched. She didn’t, Clara noted, mention her lunch with Gaia’s ex. “And I’m sorry if I overstepped. But you did hire me to look into what was going on, and then you said that he was still worried about you, and I saw—I might have seen—someone hanging around the shop after I left this morning.”

“That might just have been Tiger.”

Becca shook her head.“I know you said he worries too much. But maybe he’s got reason. I gather that he knew about your affair with Frank.”

“Tiger? No, he didn’t…”

Becca cut her off before she could continue.“Maybe he didn’t want you to know that he knew, but he did. I don’t know if that’s connected. But he told me he thinks there was bad blood between Margaret and her husband. Really bad.”

A shrug led Clara to believe the black-clad girl didn’t care that much about the other woman’s distress. “Frank wasn’t serious about me. He was never going to leave her.”

It wasn’t a question, and Becca didn’t answer.

Gaia acted like she had heard something, though. Kicking at a pebble, her lower lip jutting out like a toddler’s, she glanced over at her companion. “I guess I messed up, huh?”

Becca held her tongue and the two walked in silence for a bit, until Gaia stopped and turned toward Becca.“You think that’s why she tried to frame me?”

“Frame you? Did you ever, um, meet at his office?”

“No.” Gaia looked miserable. “I went down to the lot once, but I didn’t like the sleazy guys he worked with. Is that where he…?” For a moment, the death of her former paramour seemed to register, before she brushed it away as if it were a mere annoyance. “No, I didn’t mean…that. Poor guy. Just that she tried to set me up for stealing.” She bit down on the words. “Why she told you, told everyone, that I was taking money out of the register.”

“And you weren’t?” Becca’s voice was as soft as kitten fur. “Not even as a loan?”

“Me? No.” Gaia scoffed at the idea. “I don’t care about money. If I did, you think I would have stayed in that dead-end job? Besides, Tiger’s always telling me I can work with him. He makes pretty decent money.”

“Do you like to ride?” Clara couldn’t tell if Becca was curious or slightly miffed. The little calico found herself relieved by the idea that the pale messenger still harbored feelings for this pale and painted girl.

“What? No, in sales. I’m good behind a counter,” she said, waving off any evidence to the contrary. Even as she did, the reality of her situation seemed to hit home. “Not that I’m going to get any kind of a reference now,” she moped.

“It does seem like maybe it was time to move on.” Becca spoke as gently as she could. “But you said you weren’t even sure you were fired.”

Another shrug.“I don’t know for certain. I mean, it’s Margaret’s shop, but I think her sister is really behind it. She’s the reason Margaret hired me.”

“She is?”

Margaret’s words came back to Clara as she watched her person take this in.

Gaia stretched out her black-clad arms.“I guess I look the part. Or I thought that’s what was happening anyway. Margaret said something about her sister telling her to get ‘that girl,’ like she had me in mind, special. Only I think Elizabeth had it out for me for a while. Just last week, I heard her telling Margaret that she’dmade a mistake. That she’d hired the wrong girl. Actually, she kind of liked you.”

Gaia regarded Becca with a gimlet eye.

“Me?”

Gaia nodded.“She must have seen you when we talked. Or maybe it was when you came in to hang up that flyer. Anyway, she was all excited that you’d come back to the shop. Wanted Margaret to reach out to you right away.”

Becca bit her lip, and Clara knew she had to be thinking about Elizabeth and her sister. Margaret had reached out to Becca, all right, but as a client. And Becca had sent her away.

“Anyway, I don’t know for sure what’s going on, only that she came in and told me to get lost. That I was gone. But I don’t know. Truth is, I think she’s going senile. That old bat couldn’t even get your name right. She kept saying she was waiting for Clara.”

“Well, that’s curious.” Now it was Becca’s turn to look distracted. But Gaia didn’t give her a chance to think it through.

“Wait a minute.” She reached out for Becca’s hand again. “Something doesn’t make sense.”

Becca shook her head, waiting.

“If Tiger was only warning me because he wanted me to be more careful around those Cross witches, then why is he still worried? I mean, it’s not like I’m still going to see Frank. Unless…” Even under her smudged makeup, the goth girl’s pallor was obvious.

“You don’t think that Margaret, that that crazy lady… Or maybe she’s working with her sister. Maybe they did do something to Frank, and now they’re going to come for me.”

“But you just said that Elizabeth basically threw you out of the shop.”

“Yeah, she did. But maybe she did it because she knows something—something about Margaret.” Gaia held Becca’s wrist in a death grip as she leaned in close. “She wants me gone before I can find out what really happened. Or before her crazy sister can kill me, too.”

Chapter 18

“We’re going to the police.” It was a statement, not a question. Still, Gaia tried to wriggle out.

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” she quailed. “I was being silly. Tiger always says I overreact.”

“Tiger should be coming with us, too.” Becca pulled her phone out.

“No, please.” Gaia reached for her hand, but it was a plea not a grab for the device. “Let’s leave him out of this. I’ll go with you.”

Becca thought for a moment, then accepted with a quick nod. It must have taken all her self-control not to hold the other girl’s arm, Clara thought as she turned and started back into the square. At the end of the block, she slowed. The brick building that housed the shop and the Cross’s apartment lay straight ahead.

“Why don’t we duck behind the store?” Becca asked, turning toward Gaia. “Just in case.”

Gaia managed a wan smile in return, and the two turned down the side street that would take them past the back of Charm and Cherish. This was a boon for Clara, as the smaller one-way was both less trafficked and, at this hour, shadowed by the block of buildings. The lack of light appeared to have affected the two young women, however. As they passed the neighboring structures, they walked in silence, each lost in her own thoughts.

Once they neared the small lot in the rear of Charm and Cherish, Becca paused to look up the alley that ran alongside. But the narrow passageway was empty now except for shadows. Still, Becca was so preoccupied that she almost missed Gaia’s sudden intake of breath.

“What?” Becca turned to her.

The other girl appeared frozen in place, as if her glittery sneakers were glued to the sidewalk.

“I can’t,” she said. “I really can’t, Becca.”

She was staring ahead at the tiny lot. Only one car was parked there now, a battered tan Toyota that was rumbling as it belched out clouds of blue smoke. Over the top, Becca could see a wiry head of grey hair.

“Elizabeth.” Becca sighed. The older of the two sisters had clearly just exited the shop, that gunmetal gray door propped open behind her. The light from the small window just past the door shone down through the shadow, highlighting the silver in her hair. “Well, she’s probably just takingout the trash.”

Clara peered up at her person. Even from here it was apparent the older woman was speaking to someone in the car. Gaia must have seen it too, because she emitted a faint groan.

“Maybe it’s just someone asking for directions.” But sure enough, the Toyota began backing out with a scraping sound that didn’t speak well for the exhaust. As it turned, Becca strained to see. There was something familiar about the driver, Clara thought. But with the windows up, she could catch neither scent nor sound.

“Funny.” As Becca looked on, the car headed away, leaving the small lot empty except for the dumpster. Elizabeth turned back toward the building, then paused to examine a plastic milk crate that had been left beside the door. A moment later, she stood, shaking her head, and left it there as shewent back inside, letting the door shut behind her.

“Anyway,” said Becca, “she’s gone.” With that, Clara’s person turned to her companion, only to find that the goth girl had disappeared as well.

***

“Gaia?” Becca called quietly, whirling around to check up the alley. But the black-haired girl was nowhere in sight.

“I may as well talk to Elizabeth.” Becca sounded resigned. “At the very least, she can fill in some blanks for me.”

With that, Becca walked up to the alley and, after a moment’s hesitation, followed it up to the street, Clara hard on her heels. When she paused on the street out front, Clara waited. For a few seconds, Clara thought she might even have thought better of her errand and decided to continue on her original mission. But to the little cat’s dismay, Becca was only once more looking around for the missing girl. And possibly, she realized, strategizing. Then, pulling herself upright, to make her petite frame as tall as could be, she walked up to the colorful store and entered, to the now familiar jangle. Clara had no choice but to follow behind, passingthrough behind her before the bells had quieted.

“Hello.” The shop appeared empty. Although Clara could make out sounds, nobody stood in Gaia’s place behind the counter or between the packed shelves. “Anyone here?”

“Coming,” a familiar voice called from the back room, and Becca headed toward it. But if she was hoping to check out the storeroom, she moved too slowly. Elizabeth stepped out, pulling the door shut behind her. She was wearing a smock and work gloves, and in one hand held a pair of secateurs. “Becca, dear,” she said with a smile as she pocketed the pruning shears. Although she was fully shaded, Clara ducked behind a display of crystals as her person stepped forward. “Welcome.”

“Elizabeth.” Becca was smiling, Clara could hear it in her voice. She could also hear the strain underneath. This was a ploy, she realized. Her person was trying to disarm the older woman. “I was hoping to speak with you or, perhaps, with Margaret.”

She stepped forward, toward the back room. Elizabeth didn’t move. “I’m afraid Margaret is indisposed,” she said. “I’m sure you understand, what with Frank and all.”

“Of course.” Becca agreed. “I’m wondering if the police have shared any information with you?”

“The police?” Elizabeth’s voice rose as she began to pull off her gloves. “Why would they tell me anything?”

“Well, I gather you’re here, taking care of your sister…” Becca caught herself before she finished the sentence. She wanted the older woman to reveal herself, Clara realized with admiration.

“I don’t take care of Margaret,” Elizabeth said so quickly that Becca caught her breath. “I do try to advise her, of course. But it’s not like she ever listens to me.”

“I gather you didn’t like Gaia, the girl who was working for her.”

“That fake?” She brushed her hands together, dismissing the shopgirl like a last bit of dirt. “No. I had no use for her. I told Margaret.”

“And I assume you shared your suspicions with the police?”

“Of course.” Elizabeth sounded very matter of fact. “But that doesn’t mean… Oh, dear! Becca!”

Clara started forward in time to see Becca begin to fall, her knees buckling. She grabbed the counter just as Elizabeth raced around to catch her.

“Poison!” The calico stared, wide-eyed, unsure of what to do or how to help.

“I’m fine.” Becca leaned heavily on the older woman. “I just got a little lightheaded. If I could just sit down for a moment?”

“Of course.” Arms still around Becca, she began backing up, kicking open the door behind her. And as Becca apparently regained her strength enough to walk through it, Clara relaxed. The move had been a ruse, a trick to get into the back room.

“Would you like some water?” Elizabeth asked, showing Becca to a worn couch. Despite its sprung upholstery, it looked comfortable, Clara thought, with deep cushions and soft velvet that still retained some of its pile. As her acute nose informed her of its other recent usage, her ears went back. This, then, was where Frank and Gaia had their assignations.

The odors were too faint for Becca to notice, however. And as Elizabeth hurried over to a corner, where a sink and hot plate made for a makeshift kitchenette, she took in her surroundings. In front of the sofa, a scarred wooden coffee table held two dirty mugs as well as an opened deck of Tarot cards. Metal shelving lined the walls, stuffed with books and boxes, several wrapped in cellophane. The door to the shop remained ajar, as did one by the sink, revealing a small lavatory below a smoked-glass window. As Elizabeth ran the tap, Becca craned around to see the exit to the street. Her view was nearly blocked by large cardboard boxes, some open, others taped shut. Someone was in the midst of packing, though whether that work would require pruning shears or gloves, Clara didn’t know.

“Here you go.” Elizabeth slid onto the sofa beside Becca, handing her a plastic beaker of water.

“Thanks.” Becca managed a smile but did not, Clara was glad to see, drink. Instead, she turned to face the open boxes. “Are you, uh, changing out the inventory?”

“That? Oh, yes.” Elizabeth appeared flustered, as if she were seeing the boxes for the first time. “I’m afraid Margaret let things go, and so I figured that while I’m here I would try to get things in order. There’s so much that’s outdated and nothing has been taken proper care of. Ofcourse, it would be a huge help if we had a proper staff.”

Becca nodded.“I ran into Gaia.”

Elizabeth sighed and shook her head.“That girl,” she said. “She didn’t belong here. She had no feeling for the craft.”

Becca’s eyes narrowed. For a moment, Clara thought, she resembled Laurel. “That’s why you let her go?”

A startled laugh.“You thought—because of Frank? No, she did Margaret a favor, though my sister doesn’t see it that way. Frank was a liability from the get-go. She’ll be much better off now that he’s gone.”

Before Becca could respond, the jingling of bells announced the opening of the store’s front door.

“Elizabeth, are you there?” a voice, nasal and a little whiny, called.

“Margaret?” She rose and turned. “Coming!”

Becca followed her back through to the front of the shop.

“Glad you’re feeling better.” She greeted her sister with a hug.

“What? Oh, hi, Becca.” The shorter sister had her coat on, and her pink cheeks attested to a longer walk than the half block from her apartment. Still, she bobbed her head toward her sister. “Yes, thank you, Elizabeth. The nap did me good.”

Becca looked from one sister to the other, but bit back whatever response she was about to make.“I’m glad you came by,” she said instead. “I’ve been meaning to offer my condolences. I’m so sorry for your loss.”

The new widow sniffed, a bit dramatically.“Thanks. It was a shock.”

When nothing else followed, Becca leaned in.“If you’re up for it. I was also hoping to ask you a few questions.”

“Questions?” Even a human couldn’t have missed the way the two sisters locked eyes. But if Becca saw anything, she chose, once more, not to comment. Instead, she simply smiled and waited. “Of course,” said Margaret. “Elizabeth, would you make tea?”

With another glance at Becca, the taller of the two sisters retreated into the back. Margaret, meanwhile, removed her coat and carried it around the back of the counter. Although she sniffed again, Clara suspected that had as much to do with the chill outside that had pinked her cheeks as with grief. Surely, Becca had to notice that the widow had seemed more upset at the idea of her husband leaving her than at his death?

“With everything that’s going on, I can’t believe that Elizabeth fired my only employee.”

“I thought she was following your wishes?” Becca spoke quietly, so as not to be overheard by the woman in the back.

“Elizabeth?” Margaret shook her head. “Hardly. She thinks she knows best. As always.”

As she settled onto a stool behind the counter, Becca leaned forward.“She was telling me about Gaia.” Another quick peek, but the older sister still had not emerged. When the widow sniffed once more—perhaps she had a sinus condition—Becca hesitated. But when Margaret only dabbed at her eyes with a balled-up handkerchief, she began again. “I’m sorry. I’m not interested in gossip, but Gaia’s been having some problems, and you have to see how this looks. I was thinking that if, perhaps, someone was angry at Gaia, she might have thought to scare her a little.”

The wiry-haired widow sighed, and for a moment Becca looked like she was about to apologize. Clara understood—Becca was a sweet girl and inclined to be sensitive—only just then she hoped she’d hold firm.“Please, Becca, you need answers,”she muttered in a low feline rumble. If only she had a little of Laurel’s powers of persuasion, the calico thought yet again, as she concentrated as hard as she could.

“Have you spoken to the police about the theft?” It sounded like a digression, and Clara stared up at Becca, wondering what her person was aiming at.

Margaret seemed to deflate further, and Clara realized there was, indeed, some kind of connection.“Frank,” she said, as her bowed shoulders rose and fell once more. “He was a dreamer. He thought bigger than he was. What else can I say?”

“So you didn’t report the jewelry? The watches?”

A single sad shake of the head.“It doesn’t matter now, does it? I mean, to anyone but me.”

“But if you think someone was stealing…” Becca’s tone stayed even, her voice soft, but she wasn’t giving up.

“Someone was. Only, well, that’s all over.” Another brush of her hand, as if larceny were a pesky fly.

Becca sucked in her lip. Clara recognized that move. It meant she was thinking about something or, no, regretting it.“Margaret, when I said I couldn’t take your case, it wasn’t because I didn’t think it was legit.”

“It doesn’t matter, dear.” The large eyes raised to meet Becca’s were dry but sad. “I did some silly things, too.”

“I was wondering.” Becca’s voice, already quiet, grew powder-puff soft, as gentle as a kitten’s paw, and Clara waited. “Was that what happened with Frank, Margaret?” Becca glanced quickly toward the door, expecting Margaret’s older sister to emerge at any moment. “Tell me, Margaret.Did you want to scarehim a little? Bring him back in line?”

“Frank?” Margaret’s head went back as she screwed up her face in confusion. “You think I…that I made him sick? You think that’s why he left? You can’t, possibly…”

Becca reached out to take her arm.“I don’t mean it was anything intentional. Of course not.” Becca remained quiet, the voice of sympathy, though Clara could hear how tightly controlled her breathing was. “But if there was an accident with one of the herbs from the shop, maybe? I mean, I would understand.”

“No, I don’t think you do.” Margaret pulled away, any trace of that brittle giddiness gone, replaced by an acid scorn. “I don’t know where you get your information, but I didn’t dose my husband with anything. Not from my shop, not from anywhere. I’ve never hurt anybody, not even that cheating little trollop you seem to have become friends with.”

Becca started to protest, but Margaret cut her off.

“I’m extremely glad I didn’t spend any money on your so-called psychic services.” Her dark brows descended as she glared at Becca. “It’s pretty clear you’re no good at detecting anything. Frank’s heart gave out, you silly girl. He was a cheater and a loser, and it’s his own fault if his guilty conscience finally caught up to him.”

***

“Why don’t we step outside?” A hand gripped Becca’s upper arm and she turned to see Elizabeth, who proceeded to march her toward the door. “Shall we?”

Clara bristled, ready to spring. But as soon as she had Becca out on the sidewalk once more, the older woman released her. Blowing out her lips, she reached up and pushed that wiry hair off her face.“Stupid girl.” It sounded more like frustration than a reprimand.

“I’m sorry.” Becca still seemed stunned by Margaret’s outburst. Or perhaps, thought Clara, by the widow’s lack of grief.

“Not you—that Gail. Gaia, as she calls herself.” Elizabeth peered back into the shop. Checking for her sister, Becca thought, and giving Becca a moment to collect herself. “She was a menace.”

“You mean, because of the wolf’s bane?” After Becca threw out the name of the poisonous plant, Clara could hear that she held her breath, waiting.

“So foolish.” Elizabeth frowned. Her bushy black brows arched like a cat’s back, but she didn’t pretend not to understand. “You do know that aconite can bring about arrhythmia, a heart attack, don’t you? If the police found that plant in the shop…well, Gaia should be happy I made her get rid of it.”

“You made her get rid of it.” Becca repeated the words to make sure she heard them correctly.

“Didn’t she tell you?” Elizabeth barely noticed. “Yes, I tried to make her understand the danger. Not that a girl like that takes anything seriously. I was glad when it disappeared.”

“Disappeared?” Surely, thought Clara, the older woman would notice the emphasis her visitor placed on the word.

“Re-homed. Tossed. Whatever. As long as it was no longer sitting right there in the Charm and Cherish window. Stupid.” She shook her head again, but slowly, as if consumed more by disappointment than anger.

“So you didn’t take it?” A tilt of the head.

“Me?” Elizabeth laughed, face up in an appeal to the heavens, and then focused those dark eyes on Becca. “You should know better, Becca. You more than anyone. But never mind.” She turned and reached for the door, ready to rejoin her sister. “Just stay clear of this, okay? It’s not safe.”

Clara looked up at Becca then, but her person simply stood there, too stunned to respond. The little calico, meanwhile, couldn’t help but notice how the older woman’s eyes flickered under those heavy brows as she nodded once more to Becca, and then slid over to the cat who stood at her side.

“Especially with your family history,” she said.

Chapter 19

“You’ve been gone all day!”Harriet greeted Clara at the door with an eager sniff.“This is as bad as when Becca had that job of hers. We haven’t eaten since breakfast.”

“Did she spend all afternoon with that Tiger?” Laurel circled, her tail lashing with the excitement of the hunt.“Is she bringing him home soon? Are they going to his place?”

“No!” It was all Clara could do to contain her temper.“Everything’s gotten so much more complicated! You don’t understand, either of you. Ow!”

That was in response to Laurel, who had batted her ear. Harriet merely stared, affronted, her own flag of a tail flipping back and forth in annoyance.

“There’s a lot you don’t understand, runt.” Laurel was not going to forgive easily.“Especially about men and women like our pretty Becca.”

“No, it’s not that. It’s this whole situation.” Clara looked at Laurel and then Harriet. The time for secrets, she realized, was over.“There’s something I haven’t told you. A lot, actually.”

With her ears tuned for Becca’s footsteps on the stairs, Clara filled her sisters in on what had happened. The lunch, running into Gaia, and, more disturbing to the little calico, her interaction with both Margaret and Elizabeth. As she described the older woman, tall with that wiry silver hair and a beak-like nose that seemed to draw her dark eyes close together, Harriet rose to her feet. Thinking that her oldest sister was simply getting restless, Clara hurried to finish.

“That look was bad enough,” she said, ears flicking backward at the memory.“But then that Gaia said something that really freaked me out. She said that this Elizabeth was looking for Becca, only she called her Clara. Like maybe she was really looking for me.”

“Huh.” Eyes closed, Laurel sniffed dismissively.“Like the runt of the litter, Clara the clown, would be the feline she sought.”

“I’m the one she saw,” Clara offered, hoping to appease her sister. She had her own thoughts as to why the wiry-haired woman had asked for her, but there was no sense in antagonizing her sisters.“Becca’s smart. She must have figured it out. Elizabeth is taking over the shop. She’s getting rid of stuff, and it looked like she was maybe gardening. That could mean she was doing something else with that poison plant. Plus, she said that her sister was better off without Frank.”

“And she fired Gaia?” Harriet took a while to understand, sometimes.

Clara resisted the urge to nip her older sister.“The girl is lucky! At least she got out alive. But that’s not the strangest thing. This Elizabeth, it’s like she staged all this to bring in our Becca. She spoke as if she knew Frank was going to die. As if she was already planning—”

“Well, what’s going on here?”

Clara turned. Harriet sunk down onto her belly, and Laurel jumped as Becca shut the door behind her. They’d all been listening so intently to Clara they’d missed the sound of their person, who now stood, smiling down at her three pets.

“It almost looks like you three are having a conference. Or, should I say, a convocation?”

“More later,” Clara mewed softly as she turned toward her person.

“No sign of poison.”Laurel had already rubbed her face against Becca’s legs and now stood to bury her brown snout in Becca’s palm.“She’s clean.”

“Well, that’s a mercy!” Harriet made a desultory pass.“There are some odd scents on her though.”

“Really?”Clara pushed in, earning a slight snarl from Laurel.

“Hey, I’m working here!”One brown paw raised to bat her little sister.

“Just when I thought you were all getting along so well.” Becca’s tone was enough to make Clara slink off, tail down. “Ah well, never mind, kitties. Let me get you some dinner. I’ve got some strategizing to do.”

“Sorry.” Clara slipped in behind Laurel as the three cats followed their person into the kitchen.“Can you…?”

“On it,” said Laurel.“Something about this ‘strategizing’ I don’t like.”

“Gaia?” Even before the third can was down on its mat, Becca had her phone out. “Call me please.”

When the phone rang only a few minutes later, Becca grabbed it. By then, she was on the sofa, feet up, with her computer on her lap. Laurel was bathing on the armrest, while Clara, at her feet, sat up at attention. Harriet could still be heard in the kitchen, hoovering up the last few crumbs.

“Hey, Maddy.” As Becca closed the laptop, she put one hand over her eyes. “No, I didn’t get to the police today. I was on my way when I ran into Gaia outside the shop. I was hoping to get her to come to the cops with me, but she bolted, and I ended up talking to Margaret Cross and her sister, and it all got complicated. I’ll go tomorrow, I promise. With or without her, but it would be better if she’d come with me.”

As Clara listened, Becca ran through the events of the afternoon. When she got up to her decision to come home rather than continue on to the police station, Clara couldn’t help but feel like her person was intentionally leaving something out.

“You just don’t want to admit that she messed up.” Laurel, stretched along the couch back, managed to mute her usual Siamese voice.

“You weren’t there.” Clara shifted.“She was afraid. That woman—Elizabeth—seemed to be warning her off.”It made her uncomfortable when Laurel eavesdropped on her thoughts. Besides, she wanted to listen to the conversation.

“Like that’s any different?” The distinctive yowl grew a bit louder.

“Hush, now.” Harriet landed with a thud and, seeing that Becca had taken up most of the sofa, began to knead her instead.

“Come to think of it,” Becca was saying. “I’m going to try Gaia again now.”

Laurel glared at Clara, but Clara only had eyes for Becca as she punched in the by-now familiar number. Something was very wrong. She could feel it.

“Hey!”With a startled mew, Harriet leaped sideways to avoid the laptop, which slid to the sofa beside her.“What’s going on?”

Neither of her sisters answered, although Clara joined Laurel on the sofa back as Becca rose and began to pace.

“Hey, Gaia. Thanks for picking up.” Becca was doing her best to be casual. Clara could hear the slight singsong cadence of her voice. Until she stopped and stood up straight. “Gaia, what’s wrong? You don’t sound good. You—what? Did you say ‘numb’? Where are you?” She started looking around, and Clara rolled a pencil out from under the sofa for her person to grab. “I’ll call you right back.”

“Emergency? I just spoke with a friend at 932 River…” As Becca spoke, she headed toward the door, grabbing her coat as she did. “You need to send an ambulance there now.”

Chapter 20

Clara didn’t even consult with her sisters. As quickly as she could fade her orange spots to gray, she followed Becca out the door and down to the street, where Becca hailed a passing cab. Overcoming her natural feline distrust of motorized vehicles, Clara even managed to scramble onto the black vinyl seatbeside her.

“Mount Auburn Hospital,” Becca told the cabbie. “I’m sorry, I don’t have the address.”

“Emergency?” The cabbie’s voice emerged from his darkly shadowed jowls.

“What? No, I’m fine.”

“Emergency room, I meant.” Dark eyes caught hers in the rearview. “Don’t worry. I actually drive for a living.”

“Of course.” Clara didn’t understand the slight blush that crept into Becca’s cheeks. She did know that the car was moving more smoothly than Becca’s usual ride shares. In the seat beside her, Clara was taking no chances, however, and dug her claws into the slick upholstery. The small risk that Becca would notice the indents was worth not being thrown around should the car stop short.

“Uh, miss?” Clara needn’t have worried. Becca was so distracted that she was halfway out of the cab before the driver called her back.

“I’m sorry.” Becca fished out her wallet and handed the driver a bill. “And thanks.”

If Clara thought the ride was bad, the scene that met her when she followed Becca through the sliding glass doors was worse. Beeps and blats, along with a terrifying array of smells stopped her in her tracks. Only the rattle of wheels alerted her to jump to one side in time to avoid being run down as some kind of a trolley rolled by, propelled by four white-clad feet clearly in a hurry.

“Gaia—Gail Linquist?” Becca’s voice, over by a window, made Clara focus once more and she hurried to join her by the safety of the wall. “Has she been brought in?”

“One moment, please.” Considering all the noise and activity, the woman who responded sounded surprisingly calm. “Are you family?”

“No, I’m a…a friend.” Becca leaned in. “I’m the one who called an ambulance for her.”

“Becca Colwin.” A male voice, deep and oddly familiar. “Why am I not surprised?”

“Detective Abrams.” Becca, breathless, barely got the words out as Clara identified the large and rumpled man who had come up behind her. Clad in a tweed jacket that sagged at the elbows and wrinkled khakis, the man smelled of stale coffee, the dust of paperwork, and the sweat of many, many hands. In other words, he was a cop. That he was familiar with Becca, and she with him, put the small cat somewhat at ease. She, too, remembered the unexpected gentleness of the big man. “I’m so glad you’re here.” Becca’s voice lifted with relief. “I’ve been meaning to come talk to you.”

Eyebrows like untrimmed hedges rose as the detective sipped from a paper cup.

“I shouldn’t be surprised.” A rumble like the wheels of that trolley. “Only when your name came up, I thought I would insert myself into this…situation.” He motioned with the cup. “Shall we go have a chat?”

“I can’t.” Becca looked over the window, but from all Clara could see, the woman on the other side did not respond. “I’m waiting to hear about Gaia. Gail, I mean. She’s a friend. A client. Well, sort of.”

“Let’s go chat, Becca Colwin.” One large hand reached out behind her to propel her along. “I think you’ll want to talk to me about this ‘Gaia Gail friend client sort of’ of yours.”

Chapter 21

As relieved as Clara was to leave behind the noise and traffic of the waiting room, the idea of her person heading off with the rumpled cop wasn’t exactly comforting. Yes, she knew—or hoped she knew—that the big man was both kind and fair. However, he did work in a building that resembled a giant cage. Also, as he walked Becca along, one big mitt behind her as if to stop her from escaping, he propelled her first through a set of double doors that threatened to close on the skittish cat and then a long passage that smelled of chemicals, all the while herding Becca like a determined sheepdog. Even as she paused, looking back toward the loud room, he kept his sad, dark eyes on her, taking in everything, Clara thought.

In the past, this large man had proved himself more gentle than his rough exterior suggested. Still, Becca was clearly ill at ease, looking up at him as they walked, and so, despite her own discomfort with their surroundings, her loyal cat stayed close, waiting for a chance to break them both away.

“Why don’t we have a seat?” Holding out a hand the size of Harriet’s water dish, he directed Becca toward a row of molded plastic chairs in relatively quiet alcove. Apparently carved out of the hallway, it appeared to be a waiting room, though for what, the little cat could not tell. It hadno windows, and she couldn’t read the signs that hung overhead. It also had no carpet, and no plants for cover, and so Clara focused hard on her shading as she ducked around her person to take up position beneath an orange seat.

Looking as skittish as Laurel, Becca perched on the edge of one of the hard plastic chairs like she was readying herself to leap.

“Let’s start at the beginning, shall we?” Abrams fished a pad out of his jacket as he settled, more heavily, beside her. “What brings you to the ER this evening, Ms. Colwin?”

“I told you. I’m here for Gaia—you probably know her as Gail.” Becca glanced back down the hall. “When I called for an ambulance, the EMTs said they would be taking her here.”

“And you know this Gail, how?”

“She hired me. She thought—well, it doesn’t matter now. It can’t. Not really.”

The big man leaned forward.

“It was a stupid prank. That’s all. But when I went to talk with her again, I saw something.”

The big man’s capacity for stillness was impressive, thought Clara. He’s a hunter, she realized, waiting for small prey to emerge. Waiting for…Becca?

Clara jumped to her feet, the fur along her spine rising as her back arched. Eyes wide and whiskers flared on the alert, she eyed the hallway. If she darted out, she could turn and jump. She had no hope of holding the large man, but she could create a distraction. Buy a few seconds, maybe, that would allow Becca to escape. Her ears picked up that Becca’s tone had risen and she could feel the air as she gestured. She was helpless, and only Clara could help.

Only Becca didn’t seem to realize the danger she was in. In fact, the calico realized as she readied to spring, her person was leaning toward the big man and almost touching him as she explained the day’s events.

“So that’s why I was trying to reach Gaia,” Becca was saying. Her voice, Clara realized, was raised in excitement or frustration, perhaps. Not fear. “I wanted her to come with me to talk with you. Something odd is going on, and I don’t know how it all ties together. But both Gaia and Margaret Cross were accusing each other of the most awful things, and Gaia was involved with Margaret’s husband—”

“Hold on, please.” That big hand went up like a stop sign. Even Clara had sat to listen by this point. “What exactly is your role in this?”

“I’m a witch, ah, investigator.” Clara’s ears flicked as Becca stumbled over her customary title. “Because these women are in the community, they asked if I could help them out.”

A slow nod made Clara think that the big man understood more than he was letting on.

“So both Gail and Margaret hired you?”

“Well, they both tried to. I told Margaret I couldn’t work for her because Gaia had hired me first. That was before Margaret lost her husband.”

Another nod.“And how exactly did you come to be here, at the hospital, this evening?”

“Well, I had been trying to reach Gaia. She and I were going to come talk to you about…about, well, something I saw. And a plant. It’s a long story. Honest, but when I finally reached her, she said she was feeling funny. Her mouth had gone numb, and she was slurring her words. So I called 9-1-1.” She’d glided over the part with Gaia slipping away, Clara noted. The way the big man waited made her think that he’d noticed something was missing from her story, too.

“You were coming in to speak with me?” His voice flat as a stepped-on mouse.

“Yes.” Becca paused, and Clara thought she was going to explain, then, about seeing Elizabeth—about the missing plant and Gaia bolting. Instead, she simply forged ahead. “She and I had talked about it. Her ex-boyfriend—I’d just met with him. He was worried about Gaia. He thought someonewas out to get her, and I guess he was right.”

“This boyfriend have a name?”

She nodded enthusiastically.“Tiger. I mean, that’s probably a nickname, but that’s what everyone calls him. Have you spoken with him? Because he thought that someone was stalking Gaia. He warned her to be careful.”

“And you’ve met this Tiger?” His voice was still soft. His eyes, dark and kind. Maybe it was the way he leaned forward or some undefinable note underlying his questions, but Clara’s fur began to rise once more.

“Yes, we had lunch and he told me that he thought that Margaret maybe, but no…” Becca shook her head, picking up on the shift in tone that was causing Clara’s unease. “I just saw her, and Tiger’s wrong, at least about Margaret and her sister. I mean, she was angry at her husband. And atGaia, too. But she didn’t put the root in her mug. Besides, it was just asafetida, which smells awful but isn’t dangerous.”

“I’m not talking about this Margaret or any smelly root,” Detective Abrams interrupted gently, as if he were correcting a kitten. “I’m talking about you, Becca Colwin. Because before you arrived, I interviewed the victim’s friend, this so-called Tiger. And he says he hasn’t spoken to you. In fact, he says he’s never met you at all.”

Chapter 22

“That’s crazy.” Becca sat up, her eyes turning once more to the double doors at the end of the corridor. “He’s upset. Or maybe he’s pretending? He and Gaia have broken up, but our lunch was, well, I had the feeling that maybe he thought it was a kind of a date, and maybe he…”

Becca’s theory petered out under the big man’s skeptical gaze.

“Okay, then. Let’s move on to some other questions. Shall we?” The detective flipped a page in his pad. But as he did, the double doors slammed open, and a dark woman in pink scrubs came striding through.

“Is there a Becca Colwin here?” She craned her head around, and Becca stood to greet her. “Becca Colwin?”

“That’s me. Did something happen?”

“The patient has been asking for you.” The nurse beckoned, then paused, turning to the portly man at her side. “And you are?”

“Abrams.” He tilted his head, taking her in with eyes that were suddenly smaller and quite sharp. “Detective Eric Abrams.”

“Well, Detective Eric Abrams, I need Becca here to come with me. Gail has woken up.”

Becca turned to the large man.“I’m sorry, Detective. I really should go. But I will come down tomorrow and speak with you.”

“Like you were going to today?” A note of skepticism.

“Becca?” The nurse was waiting.

“Go.” The hand holding the pen rose in dismissal, while the other tucked the pad away, and Becca went.

“We’re hoping you can answer some questions for us.” As the doors buzzed, the nurse shepherded Becca through. “After you speak with Gail.”

Steeling herself against the noise and odors, Clara ducked in behind them into what looked like another hallway, with curtains sectioning off more scents and sounds than the little cat had ever encountered. Blood and other bodily fluids in excess. But also something sharp and chemical, all hard to process as a series of high-pitched beeps kept up their frantic call.

Even Becca didn’t seem immune. Her head swiveling, she took everything in, wide-eyed, even as the nurse strode ahead. She didn’t go far, though. At the fourth curtain, she stopped and short and motioned Becca, who had scurried to catch up, ahead. As Clara, unseen, pushed in beside her, she slid behind the curtain where the goth girl lay on a narrow hospital bed, her dark, damp hair pushed back from a face that was nearly as pale as the pillow she reclined on.

“Hey, Becca.” A ghost of a smile spread her bloodless lips. Her voice was so soft even Clara had to strain to hear. “I owe you. I guess Tiger was right, huh?”

“Oh, Gaia.” Becca stepped forward, but stopped herself even as she reached for the other girl’s hand. Needles and tubes extended out of her right forearm and into an IV bag suspended above. “What happened?”

“I’m not sure. I had some tea, and I started to feel funny. My lips got numb. I knew something was wrong, but, I don’t know, maybe I was too confused. Then you called…” Her eyes closed for a moment before flitting open again. “I guess just firing me wasn’t enough.”

“What?” Becca drew back.

“The tea. It came from the shop. I figure Margaret added something. Or her sister.” Her voice dropped even lower, more breath than sound. “Maybe I gave her the idea, huh?”

“But that’s crazy,” Becca responded in urgent tones. “I spoke with Elizabeth. She says she didn’t take the plant. She thought you got rid of it.”

The pale girl pursed her lips as she considered.“Who else could it be? Margaret hates me, and that sister of hers…” Gaia lay back, her eyes slowly closing once again. “My wolf’s bane…”

“That’s why I wanted us to go talk to the police.” Becca leaned in, dropping into a conspiratorial whisper. “I know you faked that first poisoning and anyone else who knows might try to discredit you. But this proves it. Someone really is trying to hurt you.”

“Excuse me, miss.” A young man in scrubs had slid inside the curtain, his eyes on a monitor that pinged regularly. “She needs her rest. You have to go now.”

“Will she be okay?” The ping was accelerating, like an agitated cricket.

“Now.” Another set of scrubs pushed in front of her, and she looked around for the nurse who had brought her in. But that nurse had now joined the others, reaching for a metal tray.

“Miss?”

Becca started toward her and stopped. Hands on her shoulders were turning her. Propelling her past the curtain, through the steel doors, and back out to the waiting area.

Chapter 23

“Becca! Did you get in? Did you see her? They won’t tell me anything.”

Becca turned at the sound of her name. But even before she registered that the harried male voice didn’t belong to Detective Abrams, Clara had identified the newcomer. Panting and wild-eyed, the bike messenger had apparently rushed into the ER waiting area only moments before.

“Tiger!” Becca started back, mimicking Clara’s own reaction. Although the calico was still shaded, her presence a mere flicker of color and shadow in the busy, brightly lit room, her instincts had taken over. As she had started, stiff-legged, her back had arched and her fur begun to bristle from tail tip to head, to make herself appear larger in the face of an oncoming threat. “Wait.” Becca held her hand out, stopping the man in his tracks.

“What?” He looked like he might rush the door through which Becca had just emerged. “Is she—”

“They’re taking care of her.” Becca grabbed his arm, and he turned. But if Becca—or Clara at her feet—were concerned that the slim man could be violent, his next words put those fears to rest.

“Please,” he pleaded, taking her hand in his. “Tell me. You’ve seen her?”

“Yes. She’s in there.” Tiger pulled away, turning toward the window. This time it was Becca who reached for him. “They’re working on her now, Tiger. They just kicked me out.”

Maybe it was her voice, gentle with concern. Maybe her words had sunk in. Clara couldn’t tell, but she followed as the lean young man let himself be led to a quiet—well, quieter—corner of the room.

“How is she?” Tiger searched Becca’s face for answers. “Did the doctors say? Is she…will she be all right?”

“She was awake but weak.” Becca bit her lip. “But then she started to fade. I don’t know.”

With a cry, he pulled away and would have charged the closed doors. Only Becca’s hand stopped him, turning him around once more.

“So you were with her?”

“Me? No.” He looked toward the attendant’s window, the cords of his neck distended with the strain.

“But the detective said you spoke with him.” Becca frowned as she glanced around the room. “Detective Abrams. He was just here.”

“Oh, him? Yeah, well, I came by after. She was already feeling sick by then, and I, well, I just have my bike, so I went for help. I thought that’s what you meant.”

“Oh, she didn’t tell me…” Becca bit her lip, a sure sign, Clara knew, that she was holding herself back. “I’m sorry,” she said after a moment’s pause. “It’s just that the detective was questioning me. And he said that you didn’t know me.”

“Excuse me?” She had his attention now, but the pale man appeared as confused as Becca.

“The detective,” she said, speaking slowly, like one would to a child. “He said he was just talking to you, and that you didn’t know me or know anything about me.”

“That’s…no.” Tiger shook it off. “That’s not what happened.”

Becca tried again.“I was telling the detective what I’d learned, and your name came up. He said you had no idea who I was. And you were just talking with him.”

“I’m sorry.” He pushed the hair off his face, revealing his bunched brows. “This is all just so much. He was…it was all very fast.”

“I gather he heard my voice messages or saw my number on her phone…”

“Yeah, I was just so flustered. The paramedics had just taken her.” He strained to see behind him, but the door was still closed. “I had to follow, and I just got here.”

“You might be able to go in.” Becca felt for him. That much was clear. “You should go ask.”

He sighed and gave something between a nod and a shrug.“I’m just hoping….” He licked dry, chapped lips and then, perhaps distracted by the noise of the room, turned back toward Becca. “I’m sorry. You said you learned something? Something about Gaia?”

“Yeah.” Becca agreed. “Elizabeth has it out for her, all right. You know she fired Gaia, and she made her get rid of her plant. And she had those shears… But I don’t think either Elizabeth or Margaret could be behind this.”

“What are you talking about? What shears? Who else could it be?” As Tiger spoke, his voice rose, and Clara became aware of several bystanders turning to stare. “You’ve got to tell the cop that!”

Becca stepped back, one hand reaching up to her lapis pendant.“I think Elizabeth was telling me the truth. She was angry. Her sister’s devastated, but they’re not killers.”

“Yeah, of course. I’m sorry.” Tiger reached out, touching Becca’s arm with his fingertips. “I’m upset. That’s all.”

“Of course you are.” Becca didn’t draw back, not immediately, but she didn’t sound convinced either. Instead, she raised her hand to her pendant, shedding his fingers along the way.

“I just…” The pale young man craned around, as if suddenly aware that he was the center of attention. “I wish we had more information, you know? I guess I was hoping that, with you being a detective, that you could, maybe, find out more.”

“Ihave been speaking to people.” Becca sat back, stung. “I ask questions.” Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “I did find out the truth about the asafetida.”

“Of course.” Tiger reached to take her hand. “I’m sorry. I mean, I guess I always thought of detectives as people who looked for physical clues.”

“I do that, too.” A bit stiff.

“No, please, I understand.” A shake of the head. “I would never expect you to put yourself at risk by sneaking into someplace or anything like that. That’s not the kind of detective you are.”

“How dare you! You’re talking like I’m some timid bookworm rather than a woman of power.” Becca pulled herself up to her full five-six. Towering to her pets, but surely not to this tall, muscular young man. And yet, he appeared to back down.

“I’m sorry.” He even stared down at the ground like a submissive kitten. “I shouldn’t push. I guess I’m worried. I feel guilty, okay? Gaia and I are through, but I still care for her, of course. Only, I think maybe she thought we could be more again. Now that…well, you know.”

“You mean, now that Frank is out of the picture.”

A half-hearted smile said it all.

“That’s kind of a quick turnaround.” Becca bit her lip against the sharpness of her rebuke, but the words were already out.

“I didn’t mean that she had no feelings for him. I know she did.” His voice had gotten quiet again. Clara was reminded of Laurel’s attempts to modulate her Siamese yowl when she was trying to get treats from Becca. “I think turning back to me was more about comfort and familiarity. She was really shaken up by everything that happened.”

“I get it. It has been a lot.” Becca’s eyes strayed, recalling the week before. “Her boss turning against her, then Frank, and getting fired.”

“Exactly, and, well, there’s something else.” As his voice grew quieter, Tiger stepped forward and slid his hands down so that his fingertips gently cupped hers. “I know you two are friends, and I respect that.”

Becca started to speak. Clara thought she was going to argue with that definition of her relationship with the goth girl. But—maybe it was because of the way Tiger’s long fingers were gently stroking hers, maybe it was a furball—only a choking sound came out.

“And, like I said, I still care about her. As a friend. And so I wanted to be honest with her and tell her first. That’s why I went to see her today. Becca, I know this has all been very sudden, but I feel there’s something here. Something between us. Don’t you?”

Chapter 24

Becca’s eyes went as round as Harriet’s. But before she could respond in a more articulate manner, a short shriek caused her to spin around, and the ensuing clatter had everyone in the waiting area rushing over. Ducking through the crowd, Clara could see white shoes and legs clad in lime green scrubs splayed on the floor.

“Are you all right?” A large hand appeared.

“Careful.” Another set of scrubs pushed by. “What happened here? Do you feel lightheaded or dizzy?”

“What? No.” The woman on the floor, a slight thing who seemed more surprised than hurt, waved off the outstretched hand. Instead, she flipped onto her knees, the better to gather the various surgical tools that had emptied out all over the floor. Clara leaned forward to sniff at a small clamp. Disinfectant, rather than blood, she noted with relief.

“I thought I saw…never mind.” Green scrubs turned to reach for the clamp. Clara ducked back, holding her breath as the orderly, her voice lowered to be nearly inaudible, explained to her colleague, “Dale, I thought I saw something scurry by me. You know, like a rat.”

“A rat?” The distinctive yowl made Clara spin around. Sure enough, two blue eyes were staring from beneath one of the chairs.

“Hush!”The calico raced over to join her sister, crowding in beneath the orange plastic seat.

“These people.”Even though Laurel’s body was nearly shaded, Clara could make out the toss of her apple-shaped head, the blue eyes closing briefly in disgust. “They’re all listening to those machines. They wouldn’t hear me if I sat up and caterwauled.”

“I’m sure you’re right.”Clara knew it made more sense to humor her sister than to argue.“But, Laurel, why are you here?”

“Because of Tiger, of course.”The blue eyes were momentarily veiled as Laurel dipped her head.“I knew he would come after Becca and I wanted to see what would happen.”

“You wanted to influence her.” The words slipped out, as the truth will.“Laurel, we don’t know this man.”

“We know he likes her.”Even muted, Laurel’s voice rose in that distinctive Siamese yowl.“You heard what he just said.”

Clara didn’t respond. Instead, she turned to look out at Becca. On her knees only feet away, she was reaching for a small silver object she must have fished out from underneath the couch. As Clara watched, she stood, handing the metal tool to the orderly, and Clara couldn’t suppress a slight purr. Her person was always helping others.

“That’s why I want what’s best for her, too.” Laurel’s voice, softer now, broke into Clara’s reverie.“I know you love her. We all do. But, little sister, believe it or not, hanging out with us is not the way she should spend her life.”

“I know.” Clara sighed, her purr dying away.“If only we knew this Tiger better.”

“Well, now’s our chance.”

Clara felt a damp nudge as Laurel nosed her ear. She turned to look at the young man, who had hung back even as Becca had raced forward, his pale face unreadable. Was that rejection, Clara wondered? Or was he simply unsure how to approach the woman he had just bared his soul to? A quick sniff might answer some questions, Clara realized. But as she started toward him, another familiar voice boomed out and sent her scurrying under the nearest chair.

“Becca? Becca Colwin?” The detective had emerged from the double doors. “Oh, good, you’re still here.”

“What is it?” Becca stood and started, looking past him at those doors. “Is it Gaia?”

“A moment, please.” The detective motioned her forward with a scoop of his big hand.

Becca turned back, to take in Tiger. But he had gone deathly pale and only nodded. And with that, she turned and followed the detective back into the treatment area, with Clara close behind.

***

“What’s happened?” Even as the doors were swinging shut behind them, Becca was demanding answers. “Please tell me. Is Gaia…is she going to be okay?”

Instead of escorting her back to that fourth cubicle on the left, the detective herded Becca over toward the right, where two chairs faced an empty bed.

“Why don’t you have a seat?”

“No.” The edge to Becca’s voice made Clara’s ears tilt back, even if she understood her person’s impatience. “Not until you tell me what’s going on with Gaia.”

The big head bowed in assent.“She’s talking,” he said. “So I don’t know for sure, but I figure that means she’s going to be all right.”

“Thank the Goddess.” Becca flopped into one of the chairs and leaned her head on her hands.

“That doesn’t mean you’re out of the woods, young lady.” If anything, the large man’s tone had grown more serious.

“What do you mean?” She swallowed.

“You’ve told me about this Gaia and about Margaret Cross, and yet you failed to disclose that you saw Frank Cross shortly before his death.”

“But I didn’t.” Becca’s voice rose to a pitch reminiscent of Laurel’s.

“We’ve had a report that you were seen at his place of business.” It was a statement of fact, not a question.

“His…” Becca paused to correct herself. “Yes, that’s right. I went down to his car lot. Margaret was really upset and I was hoping to figure out what was going on. But I left without seeing him or speaking to him. I overheard him on the phone. He was in the next room. That’s all.”

The cop waited, silently.

“It sounded like he was talking to his wife, so I left.” It sounded lame. It was also the truth. “It sounded personal, so I thought I should keep out of it.”

If the man in front of her mumbled something about that being a good idea, Becca didn’t hear it. Besides, he had more to say.

“That’s not all, though, young lady. You’re working as a private investigator without a license.” One hand went up to stop her before she could protest. “Don’t argue with me on that. The laws exist for a reason, you know. And one of those reasons is that you’re not equipped to deal with an attempted murder.”

“But it wasn’t.” Becca closed her eyes. “Gaia just faked it because she wanted to get Margaret in trouble. That’s all.”

“Faked it?” Those large eyes scanned Becca’s face. “You were by her bed when she nearly crashed just now, Becca. Do you really think that was faked?”

“No.” Becca shook her head, staring at the empty bed as if the answer would be found there. “I’m sorry. The first time. She was trying to frame Margaret.”

“We know.” Abrams sounded tired. “We understand that there was bad blood between the women even before Mrs. Cross’s husband was killed.”

“But you can’t think that Margaret… She loved her husband…”

“I’m not saying anything. It’s not my place to charge anyone with a crime. We will be talking with Ms. Linquist, and we have people at her apartment looking into what may have sickened her at this moment.” The detective leaned forward, bringing his large dog-like face close to Becca’s. “Which is our job. This is serious, Ms. Colwin. People are being hurt, and you are not qualified to investigate who is doing it or why.”

“But I’m part of their community.” Clara could see that Becca was struggling to explain without seeming like a flake or, worse, a dilettante. At times like this, she wished she could rub against her person’s shins, or even jump into her lap and butt her head into Becca’s hand, knowing that whenever her person massaged the velvet base of her ears, they both felt so much better. “And I promised them.” Her voice had a dying fall that broke Clara’s heart. “I promised to help and be fair to everyone.”

“I understand.” The detective didn’t attempt any physical contact, but a certain warmth in his voice made Clara think that maybe he did comprehend some of what her person was saying. “And I’m glad of it. After all,” he said, hands on those tree-trunk thighs as he pushed himself out of the plastic chair, “that might be the only reason you’re still alive.”

Chapter 25

“That’s ridiculous!” Becca spoke with a sharpness that set Clara’s ears back. It wasn’t just her tone. While it was true that Becca was addressing a nurse who had, in fact, been ignoring her repeated requests to be let in to see Gaia. And it was also true that this nurse was now staring at her computer monitor like Becca was no longer standing right in front of her, the uniformed woman who was very clearly avoiding Becca’s fierce gaze really hadn’t earned this rather loud outburst of temper. Not from Clara’s normally very polite person.

Her ordinarily sweet young woman was at the breaking point, the calico realized, bringing her ears back up to a perky point, and she believed she understood why. When the stout police officer had first called Becca’s name, she had seemed to welcome the interruption. Tiger’s declaration, as flattering as it might be, had disconcerted Becca, Clara could tell, if in a different kind of way. As he had spoken, her cheeks had pinked up, and she had looked down and then away, unable to find the right response.

However, the respite the detective offered had proved short-lived and maybe, her pet realized, not altogether welcome. He had cowed her, especially when he implied that she might be at risk legally because of her attempts to set herself up as a private investigator. The suggestion that she might be in danger had thrown her, too, although after he had walked away, she had muttered something about how he was simply trying to scare her away from the case.

On top of all that, the bike messenger had disappeared by the time the detective had released her. Embarrassed, perhaps, or regretting his hasty words, which Becca had finally had a chance to absorb. Clara didn’t know how her person would respond, though she was pretty sure Laurel would want to weigh in, but she could see Becca’s increasing frustration as she scanned the room. And now she couldn’t get in to see Gaia either. Maybe it was understandable that her person had lost her cool.

Following her outburst, it did appear as if she were trying to be reasonable.“Please, can you at least tell me if she’s being admitted?”

From her tone, her pet realized, Becca was close to tears, and her tender feline heart went out to her person as she tried once more to explain why she should be given this really quite basic information. Already, she had told the nurse that she had been visiting with Gaia only minutes before. That it had been her quick action that had resulted in her friend being brought in to the ER. It did no good. Becca wasn’t authorized to receive confidential information. And so, no, she couldn’t even tell her if Gaia was being admitted or what her status was.

“I gather there’s a security issue,” the nurse said without looking up from the screen. “And I’m not going to say anymore. Do I have to call security?”

“No.” Becca admitted defeat as the other occupants of the waiting area quickly returned to their phones. It really wasn’t surprising that her person had lost her temper. And since all she had done was raise her voice, Clara didn’t think that any person, no matter how sensitive, could blame her.

“I’m not blaming her.”

Clara jumped. She had forgotten Laurel.

Shaded into near invisibility, her sister was crouched beside her, under one of the waiting area’s molded chairs.“Really, Clara, sometimes you act like you’re the only one who cares.”

Clara rounded on her sister, ready to hiss. It had been a trying day, and having her sibling read her mind was the final invasion of privacy.

“I’m trying to help, silly.” Laurel’s blue eyes, the only part of her visible, flared as she backed away.“You could tell she was thinking of Tiger.”

“She shouldn’t be.”Clara felt her ears go back.“The last thing she needs now is to be romanced by some stranger.”

“No, silly,” Laurel started to explain, but just then Becca turned and walked out into the night, and the two cats leaped to follow. Although Becca was striding swiftly, Clara caught up to her as she exited the hospital grounds. But while she wished with all her heart that her dear person would simply go home, her desires lacked the power of persuasion. Worse, Becca stood on the sidewalk, staring at the passing cars, long enough for Laurel to make her way up behind them. The Siamese might be nearly silent, but Clara was determined not to be taken by surprise again.

“What’s the matter?” Clara couldn’t resist. Even though she had no problem shimmying through the door that had swung closed in Becca’s wake, she had seen her sister struggle.“Did you find another man for Becca?”

“Hush, baby sister.”Laurel’s tail might be invisible, but Clara could see the swirls of dust as it lashed back and forth.“She’s about to—”

“Who told the police I was down at the car lot?” Becca might have been talking to herself, but her voice was clearly audible to the cats’ sensitive ears. And as she looked around the darkened parking area, Clara could feel her sister’s eyes on her.“And why did Tiger run off?”

“Enough!” Clara was ready to take on her sister, precedence or not. But before she could even raise a paw, a car pulled up.

“Becca Colwin?” As their person climbed inside, the two feline sisters exchanged a glance and jumped to follow her. Out of habit, as much as anything, Clara even waited for Laurel to go first. If she had to, she knew, she could sidle into the trunk, even as the vehicle pulled away.

She didn’t have to. Becca, it seemed, had changed her destination. “I know I said that car lot down by the river, but it’s late.” She leaned forward to explain to the driver. “I think I’ll just go home, if you don’t mind.”

“It’s your ride.” With a shrug, the driver took off, and Clara began to relax.

“This is incredible.” Laurel, meanwhile, was entranced. Now that she knew where to look, Clara could just make out her sister’s outline. Standing with her forelegs on the car door, the sealpoint was staring out at the street, her eyes wide as she watched the world go pass.“No wonder you like this.”

“I don’t go out in the world because I like it.” Clara, whose nerves were a bit frayed, wasn’t so easily mollified.“I do it because I worry about Becca.”

“Yes, but…”Laurel adjusted, as the car took a turn.“I’ve got to tell Harriet about this.”

Clara closed her eyes, regretting all the times she had wished her sisters shared her concerns. Bad enough that she had to deal with Laurel and Harriet’s interference at home. If the two of them really did start to follow her out in the world, protecting Becca was going to become exponentially more difficult.

“Maddy?”

Clara woke with a start.

Becca was speaking quietly into her phone.“Are you free tomorrow? I need your help with a kind of experiment. Call me?”

Clara looked around to see Laurel staring back, eyes wide with curiosity.

Nothing the rest of the evening made Becca’s plans any more clear. As soon as she was home, she reached for her laptop.

“Nothing new on Frank Cross.” She clicked on the keypad. “They’re still looking for that driver though.”

Within minutes, she’d gone quiet, and when Clara slipped behind her, she could see that Becca was focused on an image she had often spent time with before. Laurel had gone to sleep on her usual shelf by then, exhausted, Clara figured, by the outing. Even though she could feel her own lids growing heavy, Clara remained perched behind her person, determined to figure out what she was up to.

“I don’t understand why that thing is so fascinating to her.”Harriet landed with a thud on the sofa and began kneading her pillow by Becca’s side.“She can just as easily look at us as at those pictures.”

Clara started. Yes, it was true. The familiar engraving that Becca often consulted was more detailed than she had first noticed. The odd flatness of the computer screen had obscured its details, as did the technique of the original. To Clara, it looked like it had been scratched out with particularly dexterous claws. But as she stared, she realized that although she had been taken by the likeness of the woman in the picture to Becca, albeit with that strange headdress, and to the calico at the picture’s center, there was more to the image. Almost hidden in the crosshatching of the sitter’s background—or maybe shaded—two other cats peered out. One large and pale, the other with the distinctive round head of a Siamese.

“The wise woman came to the aid of her community,” Becca read quietly to herself. “With the aid of her familiars.” Clara looked over at Harriet, but her oldest sister was focused on her pillow, clearly ready for her evening nap, while Laurel’s faint snores let her know that their middle sister was also otherwise engaged. Even as she felt her own eyes start to close, Becca shifted again, this time reaching for her phone.

“Not that kind of detective,” was all she said. But as Clara looked on, wide awake now, her person seemed to second guess the move, and put the phone away for the night.

Chapter 26

“I can’t believe we’re doing this.” Maddy had met Becca in Central Square early the next morning at her friend’s request. Sunny and clear, the weather was perfect for an outing, the sky that deep blue New England only gets in autumn, setting off the gold and russet of the trees around them. None of which had made Maddy happy about accompanying her friend once Becca laid out her plans. “You do realize that this is crazy? Not to mention the fact that the cop already warned you off.”

“I shouldn’t have told you about that.” Becca led the way at a rapid clip that had Maddy, not to mention Clara, struggling to keep up. Clearly, admiring the fall foliage was not the purpose of this outing. “Besides, I’m not doing anything illegal. I’m helping my community. Looking into things.”

Maddy’s sigh might have been because of the pace, but Clara didn’t think so. “I can’t believe I’m taking personal time to do this. Speaking of, Reynolds would still take you on as a researcher.”

Becca stopped at that and waited for her friend to catch up.“Oh, Maddy, I know you mean well. But can’t you see what I’m doing now is what I was made for? I get to do research, but I can use my other skills as well.” The slight pause before “skills” didn’t go unnoticed. Maddy raised her eyebrows, but she was too good a friend to comment. “Besides,” Becca added a little shyly, “this way, I have time to research my own family.”

“Oh, Becca.” It was the sympathy, rather than the scorn, that made Becca turn and start off again, her cheeks as red as the maples along the sidewalk.

“Maddy, I’m onto something.” Becca lowered her voice, even though there was nobody around to overhear on the shady street. “The craft runs in my family, through the matrilineal line. We’ve long been wise women, serving the community.”

Maddy only shook her head.

“You’ll see,” her friend said. “But that’s not why I called you. I have a theory about who told the cops about me, but this time I want to make sure before I do anything.”

The two fell silent as they continued walking. Clara, trotting to keep up, could feel the tension between them. What she couldn’t figure out was how to ease it. Becca needed friends, the little cat felt strongly. Maddy might not agree with all of Becca’s ideas, or even the path she’d chosen to pursue professionally, but she’d been there for her friend in ways that Clara could only envy. Even before Clara and her sisters had come to live with Becca, Maddy had been an integral part of Becca’s life. Clara might not be able to define exactly why that made her more trustworthy, but it did. Maddy was more like a sister than a buddy. Or, she silently corrected herself, like one would want a sister to be—not annoying like Laurel and Harriet.

It was a pity Maddy couldn’t believe in Becca. That seemed to be the sticking point between them, but, in truth, that made Clara trust her more. Maddy at least had the sense to know what was real. When Clara thought of that Gaia, with all her piercings and black, she knew there was a lot to be said for someone a little less fancy and a little more committed to hard work and honesty, even if she pooh-poohed the idea of magic and hurt Becca’s feelings in the process.

Besides, she was here, helping Becca out, a fact Becca didn’t seem to fully appreciate. As the two made their way down the street, the silence was growing increasingly awkward. Clara could see Becca stealing peeks at her friend, while Maddy fumed, so intent on staring at the ground in front of her that it was a wonder she didn’t walk into a lamppost.

“So, where are we going?” Maddy asked finally. If Becca could hear the effort Maddy was making to keep her voice even, she didn’t let on. And Clara was grateful. Not only should these two be on better terms, but the little cat was curious as well.

“Frank Cross’s car lot.” Becca smiled as Maddy gasped and came to a sudden halt. “Please, I’ll explain.”

Urging her friend along, Becca did just that, her voice rising with urgency and purpose.“It was what that cop told me,” she said as they turned a corner into the industrial area that Clara remembered all too well. “That they knew I’d been down there the day that he was killed. It got me thinking.”

Now it was Becca’s turn to pause, and she met her friend’s eyes. “How did they know I was at the lot? I didn’t leave anything, and I never even spoke to Frank Cross, so it wasn’t like he could have told anyone or written down that I was there.”

“And you think that going back there is going to tell you something?” Maddy sounded incredulous, even as the two started off again, the brick beneath them giving way to concrete.

“I’m not sure.” Becca smiled mischievously. “But with your help, I’m going to find out.”

***

By the time they got to the lot, Clara was as curious as Maddy. She may have had more faith in Becca, but she still watched her intently, following her every move as she walked slowly around the perimeter. The lot was still a moonscape, though in the morning light she could see that the pitted asphalt was punctuated by a few dying weeds. Plus, the small building at its center had taken on some color. Yellow crime scene tape circled it, crossing that front window and running over the door that Becca had entered on her earlier visit—and which now looked locked tight.

That didn’t stop Becca, who crossed the now-empty lot to try that door. Maddy followed, watching as Becca rattled the knob. From the way her head swiveled back and forth, it was clear the larger woman wasn’t comfortable.

“Becca, I don’t know if we should be here.” She eyed the trees they’d left behind, like she would scurry up one if she could.

“We’re not doing anything.” Becca turned to circle the building. “This is a commercial property, so we’re not trespassing. And we’re not breaking in.”

Maddy opened her mouth to protest, but no sound came out. Instead, she took off after Becca, who had darted over to the river side of the building. Before long, the heavier girl was panting like Harriet after a serious game of toss-the-mouse.

“How far do you think we are from the bike path?” Becca squinted up into the morning sun.

“A hundred yards? I don’t know.” Maddy shielded her eyes as she looked up and then out to the Charles. “Does the path even run here? I think maybe it’s down below the level of the road, over by the river.”

Becca considered.“So not from this angle.”

“Becca.” Maddy turned toward her friend, her round face serious. “What are you getting at?”

“I’m trying to figure out who might have seen me, and working out where I was seen from might help.”

Maddy shook her head in confusion.

“The lot was nearly empty that day. Three cars, I think. I remember because I wondered if Frank was going out of business. His wife—widow—had implied that it was more of a vanity project than anything, but at the time I thought maybe she was just lashing out.” Becca was scanning the roadwayand the river opposite as she spoke. “It was late in the day, around dusk, but it was really dead, and I didn’t hear any cars going by. But someone saw me. Someone must have, and then they called the police.”

“Maybe it was someone who lives around here.” Maddy made a sweeping gesture that took in the rundown triple-deckers behind the concrete monolith at the block’s end.

“I doubt it.” Becca crossed her arms. “What are the odds someone in one of those apartments would remember seeing someone who had simply dropped by, and even then, only for a few minutes? And I know someone who says he comes down here often for business. By bicycle.”

“That guy Tiger.” Maddy crossed her arms, too. “Becca, I knew he sounded like trouble. He’s—”

“No, that’s just it.” Becca was still shaking her head, trying to puzzle it out. “I mean, yeah, I think it might have been Tiger. But why? He can’t really think that I’d be involved in Frank’s murder. Can he?”

“I don’t know, Becs.” Maddy began looking around again, as if she expected a score of strange men to suddenly appear. “But can we go now? Did you find out what you wanted?”

“Not exactly.” She reached out to steady her friend. “Wait here.”

“Wait, what?” By the time the question was out of Maddy’s mouth, Becca had taken off, jogging across the lot and down the street to where a shaggy brown-leafed copse of trees hid her from view. Maddy looked like she was about to take off after her, but stopped, relief flooding her face as Becca raised her hand, palm out. Thirty seconds later, Becca was back, her cheeks flushed red from the run.

“I was right.” She sounded triumphant. “If someone was coming down Putnam, they’d have a perfect view of whoever was standing out here, wondering if she should go in.”

“But that could have been anyone.” Maddy pointed out the obvious.

“It was someone who identified me to the police,” said Becca. “So it was someone who knew me.”

“So now what?” Maddy, at least, seemed amused. “Please don’t tell me that you’re just going to go talk to this guy Tiger again. Even if he didn’t do anything wrong, it still sounds creepy.”

“No, I’m not.” Becca sounded thoughtful as she turned to take in the small concrete building before them. “I’ve done too much talking already, Maddy. In fact, I’ve spent all my time on this case talking to the participants in the hope of reaching some kind of agreement.”

Before Maddy could respond, she continued.“In all fairness, that’s kind of worked. I mean, Gaia hasn’t admitted to stealing from the shop, but she did admit to having an affair with Margaret’s husband. And she also admitted to trying to frame Margaret by putting the root in her own tea. So I wouldn’t have thought there was anything else. Except that—”

She stopped mid-sentence, and then shook her head.“I can’t believe I didn’t think of that,” she said. And before Maddy could respond, she was walking around the small building once more.

“Becca, what are you doing?” Maddy tagged along, following her to the compact structure’s rear, but there she stopped, standing back, eyes wide as she scanned the empty lot. “That’s…I don’t think you should do that.”

Clara couldn’t have agreed more. Becca didn’t seem to take any notice of her friend’s hushed protest. Maybe she hadn’t heard her, as all her attention seemed to be focused on an awning window, set high on a wall. Small as it was, it seemed to have been overlooked. At any rate, no yellow tape ran acrossits surface, and even from where Clara stood, it was clear that the bottom wasn’t quite flush with the wall.

“I’m looking for clues. You know, like a proper detective.” Becca, on tiptoe, picked at the opening with her fingertips, trying to get a grip on the metal frame. “Want to lend me a hand?”

“No, Becca. I don’t think so.” Maddy frowned. “And I really don’t think—”

Her friend didn’t even wait for her to finish. Instead, she’d pulled over one of the metal trash cans. Gingerly balancing on top, a sneaker on either side of the rim, Becca was able to grab the bottom of the window frame and pull it toward her, opening it outward.

“You sure?” Rather to Clara’s surprise, Becca was smiling. “You’re going to miss all the fun.”

“Please, Becca.” Maddy took a step forward, and Clara wondered if she were about to grab her friend, much like Becca would grab Clara or one of her sisters when they were about to investigate those intriguing bubbles that sometimes appeared in Becca’s bath.

She wasn’t fast enough. With a scraping sound, Becca slid the screen out of her way, then pulled herself up and, sneakers gaining just enough purchase against the textured concrete wall, climbed in.

“Becca!” Maddy’s whisper sounded frantic as Becca’s feet disappeared through the opening. Clara didn’t know if Maddy’s ears were sensitive enough to pick up the thud that followed, but for a moment the calico forgot to shade herself, standing on her hind legs as she attempted to peer through the wall.

“I’m okay!” The top of Becca’s face appeared. “I had to kind of dive to not fall into the toilet. But, Maddy, if you’re not going to join me, I need you to stand lookout.”

Maddy sighed, closing her eyes in resignation, but then she nodded and even forced a smile. That’s when it hit Clara how well the heavy-set woman knew her friend, and how much she loved her. Maddy had been arguing with Becca all day about her quest, as well as about her new profession, but when push came to shove, she did what she could to support her.

“I’ll be over by the corner,” she called back. “That way I can keep my eye on the street.”

Maddy was a loyal friend. But she was still human. And as Clara watched her nervously looking around, her head moving so fast that a few strands of her neat dark hair shook loose, she pondered her own next move. She wanted to be with Becca, of course. But she knew well that cats are so much more attuned to the environment, so much more sensitive than even the most attentive human. No, she decided, weighing her desire against these factors, better to stay out here with Maddy. That way, if she heard or smelled someone approaching, she could alert her. How exactly she’d do that, she’d figure out later.

“How odd.” Becca was speaking softly to herself. To Clara’s sensitive ears, her voice from the other side of the building’s concrete wall was as clear as a bell. Pitching her ears back to catch any other utterances, she began to patrol, leaving Maddy to make her own way around the small building.

“Though that doesn’t mean…” Becca’s voice was suddenly interrupted by a clattering. “Oh, that is strange.”

Her person’s exclamation, quiet as it was, along with that clanging metallic sound, proved too much for the cat. Smoothing the fur over her brows and pulling her head back into her ruff, Clara shimmied through the concrete and between pieces of rebar to find Becca hunched over an open desk drawer, a puzzled expression on her face.

As quietly as she could, Clara leaped to the desk, where only her natural grace kept her from colliding with the odd, flat objects piled there. Three of the strange sheets were stacked beside Becca, all smelling slightly of motor oil and the dust in the room, while a fourth appeared to have fallen by their side. Clara stepped delicately around them, noting their uneven painted surfaces. There was something cold about them. Something that made Clara want to retreat to the warmth of her person, who stood there, staring down.

Clara eyed the sheets with distrust. These could have made that horrible clatter, Clara thought as she reached out a sheathed paw to touch one cool surface. Metal, she realized, drawing back. Cold and dead. And yet, these weren’t what Becca was looking at, not anymore at least, and so the calico stepped carefully to the edge of the desktop so she could gaze down at the drawer below. Even though she had a cat’s eye view, improved by her superior vision in the shadowy room, it was hard to see what had captured Becca’s attention. The drawer that she had apparently opened was completely empty.

As Clara watched, Becca pushed it back in an inch or two, and then released it. With a rattle, it rolled back out, almost like it was waiting to be filled.

“Now, now, don’t get greedy.” Becca must have had the same thought, Clara realized, as her person gently closed the drawer once more and turned to examine a miniature kitchenette.

Set next to the bathroom that had permitted Becca to enter, the kitchenette appeared to have been built into a repurposed closet. On the bottom sat a tiny refrigerator, with shelves above climbing up to the ceiling. Becca’s search was methodical, starting with that fridge. But if she expected a bottle of poison, or even an interesting herb, she was bound for disappointment. The dorm-sized appliance held only an ice cube tray, empty, and a sad lime, brown at its edges. Becca ran her hand over the top of the fridge, but it came away so dirty she went into the bathroom to rinse it off.

Her examination of the shelves wasn’t any more fruitful. The first held a microwave, but that, like the fridge, proved to be empty, if one didn’t count a sticky film that even a human might notice. The second was also empty, and even from the desktop, Clara could see the fine layer of dust that had settled there. That left one shelf, above Clara’s sight line. While she could have leaped up with a minimum of fuss, she didn’t need to. Becca, on tiptoes and holding onto the shelf’s lip for balance, had struck gold. With an exclamation of glee—“A-ha!”—she reached back to grab a mug that had been pushed back, apparently the only dishware of any kind left in the sad kitchenette.

“So you did sometimes take a break with—” Becca’s head snapped back just as the acrid stench reached Clara. “Whoa!” Becca blinked as she stepped back reflexively, bumping into the desk with a thud and causing the empty drawer to rattle open. Clara didn’t have to get that close to catch the reek of burned coffee and something sharper—whiskey?—mixed in. What she didn’t smell was any of that bitter root or the sad, sick odor that had clung to Gaia. She looked at her person, wondering if Becca could tell that, too, or if there was some way she could share her insight. But Becca had shaken off the burned and bitter stench and had turned to push the desk drawer back into place. It rolled easily enough with a gentle rumble. But as soon as she released it, it once again slipped open, nudging against her like a hungry kitten.

“Oh, come on.” She pushed it in once more. Only this time, the drawer didn’t quite close. And as soon as she released it, the drawer rolled open once again.

“Becca?” Maddy’s voice, tight with anxiety, reached her from outside. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing.” Kneeling now, Becca pushed the drawer shut deliberately. But this close even she could see that the metal front wasn’t flush with the desk’s frame. Something was keeping the drawer from latching.

“If it’s nothing, maybe we should get moving.” Maddy was keeping her voice low, but the tension had her pitch rising like a young bird’s. “I did say I’d be in sometime before noon.”

“Just a minute, Mad.” Becca tried again, opening the drawer to its full extension before pushing it closed. But no amount of force that the petite young woman could exert would make it click into place. Then, as Clara looked on, Becca opened the drawer once more, pulling it out as far as it would go. Watching, the little calico felt her ears twitching, taking in the distant sounds of the traffic by the river as well as the anxious fussing of Becca’s friend. The cat couldn’t tell for sure what Maddy was seeing outside, but she could hear her breath quickening, just as she caught the rising fear in the other girl’s voice. This was no time for Becca to keep trying what clearly wasn’t working.

“If only…” Leaning on the opened drawer, Becca managed to tip the metal desk ever so slightly. As she did, she reached her arm back into the drawer. Alarmed, Clara rose from where she had been sitting. The slight tilt wasn’t enough to dislodge her, but seeing Becca strain like that was concerning. And the way her arm disappeared into the desk brought to mind a small creature being devoured, one limb at a time.

“Hello there!” Becca even sounded like she was talking to a beast, although a friendly one, if her growing smile was any indication. “Come to Mama.” Becca leaned even further in, the motion of her fingers rattling something inside the desk.

When she pulled her hand out, she was holding another flattened piece of metal. The back of the drawer, Clara thought. It was certainly bent and a little battered, as a broken piece would be, and although one side had been painted blue and white once, the colors were nearly scratched away. But the way Becca was eyeing it, turning it over in her hands, made her pet wonder. Standing on her hindquarters, the plump cat reached up to sniff. If only Becca would hold it a little lower…

“Becca!” Maddy’s stage whisper was coming directly from the bathroom window, and Becca turned away from the desk.

“Just a minute, Mads. Reynolds can wait.”

“I think someone’s coming.” The whisper became more of a hiss.

“Bother.” Becca looked at the piece in her hand and then, holding it at arm’s length, took several photos of it with her phone.

“Becca!”

A few more pictures, and then she slipped it back into the drawer, which closed this time with a satisfying click. Clara jumped noiselessly to the floor as it did and eyed the desk. It was metal, but she could shimmy through it if she tried. Only, she could already hear Becca in the bathroom. She was climbing up on the toilet tank to the window, and so the calico joined her, out on the pavement, where Maddy was shuffling anxiously.

“What is it?” She asked as Maddy ushered her off the lot. “Was there really someone?”

“I think so.” Maddy dared a glimpse over her shoulder. “I’m not sure, but there was a big black car, like a town car or a limo, and I’m pretty sure I saw it twice. I think it circled back.”

“Did you happen to see the plates?” Becca strained to see the road. Clara didn’t think she sounded convinced.

“No, sorry.” Maddy nearly pushed her friend along. “Please, let’s get out of here.”

Becca let herself be hurried, and after a long look at her friend’s face, she picked up the pace herself. “You’re scared,” she said.

Maddy rolled her eyes.“Well, yeah.” But the ice seemed to have broken. “So, did you find anything?”

“I did, but it’s odd.” Becca spoke almost as if to herself. “I didn’t find anything in the office that I expected. No teapot or tea bags.”

“I’m sure the cops took all of that.” Maddy might have relaxed, but she wasn’t slowing down.

“Yeah, but there’s not even a kettle or a hot plate. Just a microwave.” She slowed, lost in thought. “And they did leave one mug, but unless I’m very wrong, nothing was ever in that except for coffee and booze.”

“Becca, please.” Maddy had her arm know and was dragging her further up the street. “The police are investigating. It makes sense that they’d take everything.”

“Everything? Even the kettle?” She paused. “Though I guess you could make tea in a microwave.” The grimace that followed showed what she thought of that idea. “They sure cleaned the files out.”

“You looked at the files?” Maybe it was the question, or that the two were simply over a block away by then, but Maddy had turned toward her friend. “What were you looking for, anyway?”

“I’m not sure.” Becca stared off in the middle distance, reminding Clara of nothing so much as Laurel when she was trying to focus on a moth. “Insurance records maybe, or vehicle registrations. I mean, have you ever seen any cars down there?”

“Maybe one or two.” Maddy shrugged. “It never seemed like the busiest lot, but I don’t know the used car business.”

“I did find some license plates. Dealer plates, for the most part. You know, the ones you put on a car when someone takes it for a test drive or has to move it? But there was also an old Rhode Island plate. It looked kind of beaten up.”

“Great. The guy was a car dealer. Let’s just get out of here.”

“It was curious.” Despite her friend’s desire to move on, Becca was worrying the thought like it was live prey. “It seemed to have fallen behind a drawer, only the drawer was empty. I figure the cops must have gone through everything, right?”

Maddy shrugged.“I guess. I mean, I figure the authorities keep track of those.”

Becca wouldn’t let it go. “Only, Frank was a dealer here, in Cambridge, right? So why’d he have a Rhode Island plate?”

“Maybe that’s where he got his stock from?” Maddy had started walking again. “I don’t know where you’re going with this, Becca. And, to be honest, I’m sure the police are looking into it.”

“The police think Margaret poisoned her husband because he was cheating on her,” said Becca. “I’m wondering if there was something else going on and Margaret was simply set up to take the fall.”

“You do realize you’re talking like someone out of a TV show, right?” Maddy had sputtered for about a block after Becca’s pronouncement. Even now that she could speak, she didn’t seem too happy with Becca’s line of thought.

“I just think it’s all tied together, and whatever happened to Gaia is in the center of it. You’re the one who was seeing black cars circling.”

“Car, singular.” Maddy’s head swiveled, but the tree-lined street they now walked along was quiet. “And I don’t know if it was circling, exactly. I am pretty sure that it did come by more than once, though.”

“Well, it’s not here now.” Becca took her friend’s hand. “And we’re out here on the street, where everything is perfectly safe. You sure you didn’t see its plates though?”

“Becca!”

“I’m sorry, Maddy. Please, I was teasing. If you want to get to work, I understand.”

“I’ll feel better when you agree to drop all of this.” Her friend squeezed her hand. Becca smiled back but didn’t respond. “But until then, I’m coming with you.”

Chapter 27

This time, Becca wasn’t going to be stopped. All the way to the hospital, she’d been trying stories out on Maddy. The friends had hopped a bus in Central and, swaying from the hanger into Harvard Square, Becca rehearsed options.

“They’re not going to let you in as her roommate.” Maddy dismissed one after another, bending to look out the window. “And they won’t believe you’re her girlfriend.”

“What if I say I’m Gaia’s sister?”

Maddy only rolled her eyes.

“What?” Becca had protested. “I mean, I can say I usually dye my hair black.”

“Please, Becca.” Maddy had calmed down enough to laugh a little. “That girl sounds like enough of a drama queen on her own. And here’s our stop.”

The hospital was a few blocks away, and Becca kept peppering Maddy with possibilities as they walked the quiet streets up to Mount Auburn. As it turned out, no theatrics were necessary. When Becca asked for Gail Linquist’s room number, she was directed to an elevator and went up to the fourth floor. As soon as they stepped out, the friends were greeted warmly.

“I’m glad she’s getting visitors,” the nurse on duty, an older, motherly woman told them. “We’re keeping her company, but it’s not the same.”

“Thanks.” Becca smiled and walked past the nurse’s station toward Gaia’s room, which had a window on the hall. Halfway there, Maddy stopped and turned, apparently gauging the distance between the room and the station.

“Becca?” Maddy called. “Does this setup seem odd to you?”

“That she’s still in the hospital?” Becca shook her head. “I’m glad she’s not in intensive care. You didn’t see her, Maddy.”

The pale face that looked up from the bed didn’t bear much resemblance to the kohl-lined goth girl. With some of her natural color coming back, and none of the paint, she appeared younger and, in truth, prettier. “Becca! Thanks for coming.”

“Hi.” Becca walked around the bed and pulled up a chair. “This is my friend Maddy.”

The two exchanged greetings, with Maddy eyeing the girl like she thought she might grow wings. While Clara jumped soundlessly to the counter, where a now silent monitor propped up a smiley face card, the visitors made small talk. Yes, Gaia was feeling better. Yes, she hoped to be getting out of the hospital soon.

“If they’ll let me,” Gaia said with a meaningful glance out the window, to where the motherly nurse stood guard.

“I’m glad they’re taking care of you,” said Becca. “Any security is a good thing if it keeps you safe.” Maddy opened her mouth at that, but shut it as Becca leaned in close for privacy.

“I wanted to talk to you about Frank, if that’s okay.” Becca lowered her voice. “Because I think there’s been a misunderstanding.”

“I’d say.” Maddy’s comment, muttered under her breath, might not have reached Becca, but it brought a rash-like blush to Gaia’s cheeks.

“Maddy.” Becca turned on her friend. “We’ve got to take this seriously.”

Clara wasn’t sure, but she thought that Maddy and the girl in the bed exchanged a look. Becca, however, kept on talking.

“I need to know if you were down at his office the day he, well, the day he was killed.”

“His office? You mean the lot? No.” Gaia shook her head. “I thought I told you. I never went down there after the first time. I didn’t like the guys he worked with.”

“He had employees down there? Mechanics?”

Gaia snorted.“Those guys? No way. They were suits. Investors, maybe.”

“I thought his wife supported him?”

Another laugh, almost like a bark.“Yeah, that was Frank.” Her smile turned sad as she shook her head. “He wanted to be independent. I mean, he was never going to leave her, but he wanted so badly to stand on his own. And these guys, you could tell they had money. The way they talked. The big town car. One of them even had a diamond ring. Frank thought they believed in him, in his business. Maybe they did. I didn’t like the way they looked at me, though. And Frank? Well, I think he’d have handed me over if they’d asked.”

“Romantic.” Becca didn’t raise an eyebrow at Maddy’s caustic comment, but Clara felt her tense at the interruption.

“That sounds awful, right?” Gaia didn’t seem fazed. “I mean, that’s what was so weird about what happened. I know Margaret was all bent out of shape. But, to be honest, our thing—okay, our affair—wasn’t really that big of a deal. I had the feeling Frank had done this before. It wasn’t supposed to be anything serious. I’d just broken up with Tiger, and it was pretty clear Frank wasn’t going to leave his comfy life. Only that last day, he got all weird, telling me he was leaving town and that he wanted me to come with him. I said no. I mean, I liked my set up. I liked working at the shop and everything. Of course, seeing Frank soured that, too. Once my boss’s loony sister found out, I knew I was going to get fired. That’s when I, well…”

“The asafetida.” Maddy bit her lip, but Clara could see the effort she was exerting to not chime in.

“That was stupid.” Gaia must have picked up on Maddy’s response too because she addressed this latest comment to the coverlet, which she’d started to pick at. Clara’s ears twitched at the change of tone. The motherly nurse apparently noticed as well, and she looked over from her station.

“Are we doing all right?” she called, her voice kind but insistent. “Does anyone need anything?”

“We’re fine.” Gaia managed a smile. “Thanks.”

“Becca…” Maddy’s sotto voce carried the hint of a growl, but Becca held out her hand to silence her.

“Gaia?” She left it at that.

With a sigh that should have deflated her, the girl in the bed began to talk.“I’ve told them about that, and about how I wanted to get Margaret in more trouble.”

“And they’re thinking you tried again?” Becca spelled it out.

Gaia grimaced.“I guess I shouldn’t have told them about the aconite. But I was scared. And I swear, I don’t have it.”

“That’s why the fishbowl room.” Becca nodded, taking in their surroundings with a fresh eye. “But also why they let us in. They think this was a suicide attempt—a real one this time. Gaia, this isn’t good.”

Gaia looked at Becca as she and Maddy exchanged glances. Neither seemed happy.

“Oh man,” muttered Maddy.

“What?” A note of fear had crept into Gaia’s voice.

“Someone tried to kill you, but the authorities don’t believe there’s a real threat. They don’t think you need security.” Becca put it as gently as she could. “You’re the girl who cried wolf’s bane.”

Chapter 28

“I knew it.” Becca spit the words out in an angry whisper. “I knew something was going on with Frank. Something besides him being a lousy husband. Money men, indeed. I told you I have sensitivities, Maddy.”

Maddy opened her mouth to comment but, at a look from Becca, refrained. They were waiting by the elevator outside the ward. Becca had insisted on visiting the nurse’s desk before they left, concocting some story about how she feared that too many visitors might upset Gaia.

“It was the first thing I could think of,” she explained to Maddy once they were in the privacy of the elevator. “Because we don’t know for sure who else might be involved. There’s Margaret, of course. But even though she was angry, I just don’t see her as a killer, and I don’t believe she poisoned her husband either.” Becca looked intent. “Besides, she knew about Frank. She’s known for a long time. I remember something Elizabeth said when I met her.”

“Elizabeth? That’s the sister, right?” Maddy’s tone hinted that she was leading up to something as she counted off the floors.

“Yeah, I want to speak with her again.” Becca was also watching the counter with growing impatience. As the doors opened, she strode forward. “First thing.”

“Speak with her?” Maddy almost squeaked as she followed her into the busy lobby. “No, wait! You need to report her to the police.”

Becca stopped in her tracks and turned to her friend, uncomprehending.“What?”

“You’re getting all worked up about Frank and some possibly shady characters, but that’s all speculation, Becca. This Elizabeth knew what was going on. She was the one who had access to the poison, right? Didn’t she ‘confiscate’ Gaia’s plant?” Maddy made air quotes around the word.

“Well, we don’t know what happened to it. She says it disappeared.” Becca stopped and turned toward Maddy. “You can’t think that she…that Elizabeth…”

“Come on, don’t you?”

“No.” Becca shook off the idea. “She’s a wise woman. She’s not going to use her knowledge to harm anyone.”

“Becca, please. Listen to yourself. You’re talking like she’s a saint. She’s not. She’s a witch—okay, a Wiccan and an herbalist. But she’s also someone who had access to a powerful poison. And she had motive.” As Becca started to protest, Maddy kept talking. “She didn’t like Frank. You said so yourself. She knew about his cheating before anyone. And she certainly didn’t like that Gaia was collecting a paycheck while she was canoodling with her sister’s husband.”

“Canoodling?”

“Don’t make fun.” Maddy was trying to be serious. “As I see it, she probably figured Gaia would be blamed. I mean, she’s the one who brought the nasty thing into the store, right? I bet this Elizabeth didn’t even know that her sister was going to try to implicate Gaia in some embezzlingscam.”

“But she would have—”

“Don’t say it’s because she has the sight or something.”

“I was going to say she would have known. Elizabeth knows her sister. And she’s super protective of her.”

“That’s why she was so angry—”

“Wait, just wait.” Even though the two had kept their voices down, their heated conversation was beginning to get stares. Suddenly aware of the attention, Becca grabbed Maddy’s arm and pulled her into a corner.

“There are too many factors that still don’t make sense,” she said in an excited whisper. “For example, why did Frank suddenly want to leave his wife? By your account, he was a serial philanderer.”

Maddy shrugged.“I don’t know. Maybe he really loved Gaia. Or maybe he knew his sister-in-law was onto him.”

“No.” Becca shook her head, unsatisfied. “He was trying to make up with Margaret. I heard him. He was pleading. I think there’s something else going on, something to do with those license plates.”

“Becca, the police went through that office. If it was important, they would have taken it.”

“One of them was hidden.”

“No.” Maddy spoke slowly and deliberately. “You told me that you bumped into the desk, and it fell behind a drawer. That doesn’t mean it was hidden. It may have been in plain view in an upper drawer. We don’t know, and that’s the point— ”

Becca wasn’t having any of it. “Now, I know you don’t believe me, but I do have some kind of sensitivity, Maddy. And there was something odd about that plate. It was almost like I was supposed to find it.”

“Becca, do you hear yourself?”

“Problem is, I can’t tell the police about the plate because of how I found it.” Becca didn’t even pause. “I don’t even think I can make an anonymous phone call, ’cause then they’ll think I planted it. No, I need to talk to Elizabeth.”

“Talk to her?” Maddy’s eyes were wide. “You want to give her a heads-up that we know she had means and motive?”

“I want to consult with her. She’s got more insight into her sister than any of us, Maddy. I know enough to know that.”

“No, no, no.” Maddy had trouble keeping her voice down. “Please, Becca. You’re too smart for this. We’ve got to go to the police and tell them what we know. We’ll just tell them we were visiting Gaia. She’s the one who told us about the plant and about Elizabeth–”

Maddy stopped short, like she was hearing her own words for the first time.“Wait, do you think that Gaia could be setting Elizabeth up? I mean, along with Margaret? Maybe she did poison herself, only she miscalculated or something, and it was all an attempt to shift blame.” She shook her head, closing her eyes. “Now I’m sounding like you.”

“No, now you’re thinking about the possibilities.” Becca took her friend’s hands in her own. “And that’s another reason I have to talk to Elizabeth. Please, Maddy. I know you don’t believe, but trust me on this. Elizabeth has some kind of power.”

“I don’t know, Becs.” Maddy sounded so sad that it was clear she had given up. “All I know for sure is that I don’t trust her.”

For once, Clara realized that she agreed with them both.

Chapter 29

“At the very least, let me come with you.” Maddy wasn’t happy with Becca’s plan. The two had exited the hospital by that point.

“I can’t. You know that.” Becca tried to let her friend down gently. “Margaret approached me as a client. She has an expectation of privacy, and I have to respect that.”

“But Elizabeth…”

“Is her sister, and she’s got sensitivities.” Before Maddy could object, Becca explained further. “She’s going to know something’s up anyway. It’s better if it’s just me. I mean, this is a delicate matter.”

“Murder?”

“Infidelity,” Becca corrected her. “But, yeah, maybe this is a case of two sisters looking out for each other. Besides, don’t you have to get to work?”

Maddy was silent for a moment as she struggled to come up with a response to that. When she finally spoke, it was with resignation.“Promise me that if you do find out anything, you’ll bring it to the police and call me, too. And promise me that you won’t drink anything she gives you. Okay?”

“I promise.” Becca knew she had won.

Maddy, visibly restraining herself, took her friend’s hands in her own and clasped them hard for a moment before turning to walk away.

“Remember, Becca,” she called as the bus pulled up, “nothing to drink!”

Becca smiled and waved as her friend’s bus pulled away with a sound like a disgruntled pug.

“Nothing to drink?” She whirled around to see Tiger, on his bike. “Are you having a procedure?”

“What? No.” Becca, flustered, laughed in a kind of confused, embarrassed way. “I’m—no. Tiger, you startled me.”

“Sorry.” He tilted his head as he grinned, making him seem more boyish. “It’s none of my business anyway. I couldn’t help overhearing.”

“No, she was talking about…about something else.” Becca took in the tall, dark-haired man as he dismounted, and Clara waited to see if she would mention their last interaction. “Oh, you must be here to visit Gaia.”

“Yeah.” He uncoiled the heavy chain that had been draped over his shoulder. “Are you going in?”

“We just came from there.” She watched as he paused, open lock in hand. “Have you had a chance to talk with her yet?”

He bent over, focusing on the lock.“Not yet,” he said, his voice strangely muted. “It’s been weird.”

“Because of Frank?” She spoke quietly, and Clara knew her person only meant well. Still, the cyclist seemed to shudder slightly.

“Yeah,” he said after a moment’s pause that might have been attributed to problems with the lock. “Maybe.”

Becca turned away, giving him privacy. She was embarrassed, Clara knew. Her person had a tender heart and disliked causing pain.

“She wasn’t serious about him, you know.” When she started speaking again, she might as well have been addressing the no parking sign. “She said it was ending. In fact, I’m wondering if it was a bit of a rebound. You know, after you two…”

The exhalation could have been a laugh or it could have been a sigh.“Right. She wasn’t serious.”

“No?” She was giving him permission, Clara knew. Room to vent about his ex.

“I think she loved the idea of a sugar daddy. An older man with money to burn. You know they were planning on running off together, right?”

Becca bit her lip as Tiger turned and stood, the lock still in his hand.“Whatever she says now, don’t believe it.” He frowned at the lock, like it was to blame. “I’m not saying she loved him, but the idea of him? Or maybe it was just rubbing their affair in her boss’s face.”

“You think she intentionally let Margaret know?”

His dark eyes burned.“Is she playing all innocent now? She hates that woman. I mean, not that she deserved what happened.”

“But Margaret didn’t…” Becca caught herself. “I mean, we don’t know what happened.”

Tiger’s eyes went wide and for a few seconds, he was silent. “You know she had access to wolf’s bane.”

“I heard that she recognized it. Or, well, her sister did.” Becca looked around, as if she would see where to begin. “Gaia brought a plant in, but Elizabeth—that’s Margaret’s sister—got rid of it. Or made her get rid of it. That’s a little unclear.”

“Elizabeth.” He said the name like it tasted sour. “Yeah, I know her, and she would say that.”

“What?” Becca had to be thinking of her friend. Maddy’s face had puckered up the same way at the mention of the widow’s older sister.

“You just said it—Gaia brought in a poisonous plant and it disappeared. Right?” Tiger brushed his hair back as his tone changed to something softer. “Gaia never could resist picking up whatever she wanted, whether it was bad for her or not.”

Becca had no response, and the cat at her feet felt for her. The cyclist’s outburst was both too personal and too specific to ignore. The tension broke, though, as Tiger suddenly burst into a laugh, his teeth flashing in a wide grin.

“Listen to me!” He smiled at Becca. “I’m sounding like the wronged spouse, and I’m the one who thought we should split up. Maybe I’m dreaming up this whole conspiracy, and it’ll turn out that she ate a bad chicken wing or something.”

He sighed as he shook his head and then looked again at the lock in his hand.“But maybe this isn’t the best time for me to visit Gaia,” he said. “Anyway, I’m here, and it’s a gorgeous day. Would you want to take a walk by the river?”

Clara waited for her person to say no. Becca had an investigation to pursue, after all.

“I was going to head into Central Square, if you’d like to join me.” Clara whirled to look up at her person. “I don’t know if that’s what you were thinking of.”

“I think a walk would do me good.” He slung the chain over his shoulder. “Let me guess, you’re going to interrogate Margaret?”

“Actually, I want to talk to Elizabeth,” Becca confided. “Not about the wolf’s bane, or not only, but she said some things the other day that I want to follow up on.”

“Ah, now I understand why your friend was so worried.” Tiger reached for his bike, holding its handlebars in one hand. “But never fear,” he said, the smile audible in his voice. “You’ve got a tiger by your side.”

“Don’t you have to work?” Becca couldn’t resist grinning back. Tiger’s smile was contagious now that his dark mood had lifted. “I mean, I’m happy for the company and all.”

“You mean these?” He motioned to his bike’s panniers. “Nothing in there but my tools. I don’t have any deliveries or pickups scheduled for today. Besides, I was planning on taking a break.”

As if on cue, the device clipped to his belt flashed. With barely a glance, he thumbed a switch and it went black.“See?”

“If you’re sure.” Becca was smiling in a way that Clara didn’t fully understand. “But what if you get other calls?”

“Not to worry. I only work for one client, and they know whatever it is, I’ll get to it.” He leaned in. “I’m kind of on call twenty-four seven.”

“Maybe Gaia wouldn’t be a great choice, then.” The words slipped out, and Becca bit her lip, embarrassed. “I’m sorry. That was rude,” she said.

His face was blank.“Gaia?”

“She told me that she might be coming to work with you, but with her habits…” Becca shook her head, flustered. “Anyway, I guess that’s no longer an option.”

“Yeah, I don’t think so.” Tiger looked down at his hands, like they could give him an out. “Not that she wouldn’t be welcome, of course.”

“Of course?” Becca was examining his face. For what, Clara couldn’t tell.

Tiger’s smile was back, as broad as ever. “Hey, the more the merrier, right?”

With that, they started out, Tiger walking his bike and Becca strolling beside him. Once the uncomfortable topic of Gaia was behind them, the two humans chatted casually. Becca, who seemed determined to avoid any mention of Tiger’s earlier declaration, focused on her work and had explained about her coven by the time they passed through Harvard Square.

Becca showed no interest in catching a bus, not with Tiger asking for reading suggestions. And so the two kept walking, while Clara, unseen beside them, dodged the busy foot traffic as she did her best to tune into their voices. Laurel, she knew, would be better at reading the signals between these two. Yes, they were interested in each other. Yes, the young man was being respectful. Any male human who asked Becca about herself was an improvement over Becca’s cheating ex, she figured. It was only her own memory of Becca’s previous heartbreak that made her nervous, Clara told herself. That made her wonder that his interest was so sudden and seemed so intense.

Whatever its impetus, the mood was broken when the two humans arrived at the colorful storefront to find the lights out and the closed sign posted in the window.

“I guess they couldn’t get anyone to cover for Gaia.” Becca peeked in, between a ram and a lopsided bull. Although she couldn’t see any movement, the back storeroom appeared to be lit. “I could go to Margaret’s apartment, but I was hoping to catch Elizabeth.”

“You want to try around the back?” Tiger followed her gaze. “I’ll stay here in case anyone shows up.”

“Thanks.” She flashed him a grin and took off toward the alley, her unseen cat at her heels.

“Elizabeth?” A minute later, she was knocking on the back door. “Are you in there? It’s Becca.” She waited, then pressed her ear against the gray metal. Being a cat, Clara didn’t need such proximity to know that nothing stirred inside. “I’d like to talk to you, if you have a moment.”

She stepped back and brushed her hair off her face. But nobody came to the door, and after another round of knocking, Becca retreated back to the street.

“I guess I’m going to have to try the apartment,” she said, as much to herself as to Tiger. “I wonder if Elizabeth is avoiding me?”

“If she has something to hide, she might be afraid of you.” The thought didn’t seem to please her companion, and he frowned as he fussed over his bike. “I don’t know if you should confront her, Becca.”

“I’m not going toconfront her.” Becca stressed the word. “I want to talk to her. I want to find out what was going on with Frank. Elizabeth seemed to have some insight into her brother-in-law, so maybe she knows why he was planning on running away.”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Tiger looked up in disbelief.

“You mean, to be with Gaia? I don’t think so.” Becca’s stare fixed on a point somewhere beyond her companion. “I think something else was going on.”

“Like maybe his wife was sick of him fooling around?” That earned him a scowl, and he put his hands up in surrender. “Sorry,” he said. “Just pointing out the facts. But aren’t the cops looking into all the angles?”

“I don’t know,” Becca confessed. “I mean, they warned me away from trying to help Gaia, but she’s told me things. And I really don’t want to get Elizabeth in trouble if she was just trying to protect Gaia from herself.”

Tiger’s brows went up at that. “Protect her from herself?”

“Yeah, didn’t I tell you? It was Elizabeth who told Gaia that her plant was poisonous. Gaia didn’t even realize what she had.”

“That’s what she told you?” Becca couldn’t read Tiger’s expression, and neither could Clara. Once again, she wished she had Laurel’s power. “Well, I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s gotten rid of it now.”

“What do you mean?” Becca put her hand on Tiger’s handlebars to stop him as he turned away. “Gotten rid of itnow?”

“Elizabeth’s not telling you the truth—or not the whole truth,” he said, his voice disconcertingly matter-of-fact. “She took the plant, whatever she says. I saw it in the back room of the shop the last time I went to visit Gaia. I guess Gaia didn’t recognize it, or maybe it was after she was fired.” He paused, his eyes going wide. “Maybe that’s why Gaia was fired.”

“You’ve got to tell the cops that, Tiger. This is serious.”

He shook off the idea.“My ex gets fired and suddenly I’m accusing the owner of attempted murder? Besides, I was never supposed to be back there. Gaia used to sneak me in sometimes late at night—she had a way in through the window and showed me how. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. That old crow probably got rid of it.But, hey, you could ask the cops to check it out.”

To her credit, Becca took a moment, chewing on her lip as she considered the option.“No,” she said at last. “They’ve already warned me off. Besides, I don’t have any proof.”

“But you’re really resourceful.” Clara could feel Becca flush slightly at the compliment. But Tiger wasn’t done. “Maybe you could find a way to look for it. I don’t think you’d be able to miss it. It’s pretty distinctive, with those poisonous blue flowers and all.”

“Maybe.” Becca didn’t look thrilled at the idea. “But now, I’d better go beard the lion—or the lioness—in her den. And I should do this alone.”

Clara expected him to protest, but he only nodded.“Good luck. Let me know how it goes. On top of everything else, now I’m curious. If Elizabeth did dump that plant, when did she get rid of it? And if not, why do you think she’s been keeping it? And where? You should be careful, Becca.”

“I will be,” said Becca, her mouth set in a determined line. “And thanks.”

Chapter 30

Becca watched him pedal off before she headed down to Margaret’s apartment. Clara might not have Laurel’s skill, but she thought that her person looked a little wistful as well as curious. Wistful, the calico understood. This Tiger might be a tad odd, but he was trying to help, in his way, and he’d spent a good chunk of his afternoon with Becca. The curiosity was more than the cat could figure out. Her person was both sweet and warm, and to Clara it was no wonder why a man would want to get close to her. Surely, despite her searching gaze, staring back at the way Tiger had ridden, Becca must understand that much.

For now, Becca’s thoughts were her own, and so Clara trotted along, tail up, when she rang the apartment bell and, soon after, made her way up those stairs.

“Becca!” Margaret’s dark eyes widened with surprise. Clad in a velour track suit, she appeared even smaller than she had the last time Becca had seen her.

“I’m sorry to disturb you.” She truly was, Clara could tell from her posture as well as her voice. “I know these last few days must have been difficult.”

“Thank you.” The widow collapsed against the doorframe, suddenly appearing both older and smaller than usual. “It’s bad enough that Frank is gone, but all the fuss.” She bent her head, exposing the white roots of her part, and Clara could feel her person’s resolve crumble.

“I am so, so sorry.”

The widow accepted the condolences, the white line bobbing briefly.

“Are you—I’m sorry, you must be caught up in funeral plans?”

“No.” One syllable shared with the doorframe. “Not yet.” Margaret cleared her throat, her voice growing stronger. “We’ll have a service, some kind of memorial, at some point. They—the police still have him. They’re doing tests…” Her voice trailed off again as one hand waved her sentence to completion.

“That’s part of what I was hoping to talk to you about,” Becca ventured, the effort audible in her voice. “Or Elizabeth, really.”

“Elizabeth?” Margaret’s head popped up and those big eyes blinked. “Why?”

“I gather she might have some insight into what happened.” When Margaret didn’t respond, Becca kept talking. “With Gaia.”

“You can’t still think that I… That Frank…” A second wave of fatigue seemed to wash over her, deflating her once again as she stepped back, opening the door to her visitor. “Whatever,” she said, her voice flat. “You might as well come in.”

“Thanks.” Clara slipped in alongside Becca and followed her through to the sunlit living room. The space appeared much as it had the other day, although Becca made a more careful examination of the plants on the sill. “Let me get my tea,” Margaret said, her voice flat, as she walked throughto the kitchen. “You want some?”

“Ah, no, thanks,” Becca called back. “I really just had a few questions.”

“What do you want to know?” Margaret returned holding a mug that smelled strongly of peppermint. She sipped, watching Becca over the mug, her eyes dry.

“Well,” Becca took a moment to recalibrate. “I was wondering if you would tell me a bit about Frank’s business.”

“His business?” The tea seemed to have revived the widow. At any rate, Clara thought, if she was nonplussed by the question, she didn’t show it. “He had that car lot down by the river. That was the extent of it.”

Becca took this in.“Used cars? Did he buy them or bring them in from other locations?”

A frown rippled the little lipstick left on her lips.“I don’t really know. Took them on consignment, I think. It was just a little thing, more a hobby than any kind of big going concern. I know he saw himself as some wheeler and dealer, but I doubt he had more than three cars for sale at any given time.”

Becca paused, apparently storing the words away, as Margaret drank her tea. Before she could phrase another question, the widow continued, her voice taking on a tone of resignation.“That’s not where he got his money from. You probably know that already, right?”

Clara could feel Becca holding her breath as she waited.

“I spoiled him.” A sigh as she placed her mug on the table. “I know I did. The watches, the rings. The car lot itself.” She peered up at her guest. “You’ve probably never been in love, have you?”

“Well…” A half smile from Becca.

“I thought we had a good relationship. No,” she raised her hand, not that Becca had made any move to interrupt, “I know what you’re thinking. But we had our ways. It had…he had never done anything like this before. I thought, well, it’s just another phase.”

“Maybe it was.” Becca spoke softly. “Maybe he didn’t mean to end it this way.”

“You don’t think… Is that why you were asking for my sister?” Her brow bunched together as she reached once more for her tea. “Elizabeth didn’t like him, but she wouldn’t do anything to…to harm him.”

“I believe you.” Becca tried to keep her voice calm and even. “But I don’t know if the police will, and I think she has information that could help us all.”

The widow inclined her head over her mug.“You may as well talk with her, then. She’s checking in on the shop.”

“She is?” Becca leaned in.

A curt nod.“She got a call, probably a prank. That girl…”

Clara looked at her person. Becca appeared to weigh several responses, but wisely decided to hold her tongue. Or maybe she simply hadn’t settled on one quickly enough as the sound of the front door opening had her craning around in her seat.

“Elizabeth.” Margaret looked up at her older sister. While Becca had turned to face the newcomer, Clara could see the curious expression on the widow’s face—eyebrows raised and mouth pursed. “Becca here was just looking for you. She has some questions.”

“Of course she does.” The taller sister breezed in, looking quite calm and collected, Clara mused. What Becca thought wasn’t clear, but her pet could see that she had been taken aback by the older woman’s response, if not by her sudden appearance. “I need to wash up, Becca. Would you joinme?”

Becca rose and followed the other woman down the hall to a bathroom, where Elizabeth proceeded to roll up the sleeves of her corduroy workshirt.“So, where shall we start?”

“Your sister said you were at the shop?” Becca watched as Elizabeth lathered up her hands. “Is there anything going on?”

Elizabeth grinned in the mirror.“Very good,” she said. “You’re learning to gather information for yourself before you give it. But everything is fine.”

Becca raised her chin.“Well, then, I’ve just got a few questions.”

“Of course.” Elizabeth focused on her hands. “I’m going to have some more cleaning to do. Gaia was a bit of a slob. Surely, that doesn’t surprise you.”

“No,” Becca had to admit. “But I’m curious as to why you went down there.”

“Why?” Their eyes met in the mirror. “Well, Margaret’s not up for anything right now. And I don’t think she should close.”

“She was thinking of closing?” That appeared to hit Becca hard.

Elizabeth shrugged.“She’s had a loss. And she no longer has a sales clerk. Plus, she’s going to have legal bills.”

That was Becca’s opening. “Is she going to be charged in her husband’s death?”

Again, their eyes met, but if Elizabeth was surprised by Becca’s awareness of the latest development, she didn’t show it. “What do you think?” she asked.

“I guess the police would say she had motive.” Becca eyed the older woman curiously. “But as for means… Margaret already told me they’re doing an autopsy. I’m assuming that they’ll find that Frank Cross was poisoned with aconite—wolf’s bane.”

Elizabeth shook her head, staring straight into the mirror.“I don’t know what they’ll find.”

“We know Gaia had a potted wolf’s bane plant.” Becca’s voice was calm. “We know that you recognized it. You told her what it was. And then it went missing.”

“Wait, you think that I took it and lied about it?” The white-haired woman turned toward her, hands dripping. “Or that Margaret…? No.”

“I’m simply stating facts.” Becca tensed, but if she thought of retreating, Clara couldn’t see any sign of it.

“You’re re-stating what other people have told you.” Elizabeth took on a schoolmarmish tone. “Letting yourself be manipulated. Gaia, for example, is as careless with logic as she is with dangerous plants.”

Becca didn’t respond. Clara hoped it was because she wanted to draw the older woman out, rather than that she was stymied by this turn of events.

“Yes, I recognized wolf’s bane.” Elizabeth reached for a towel, shaking her head as if she could shed stupidity like water. “That girl pretends to study the craft, but all she saw were pretty blue flowers. Goddess keep her. I read her the riot act. Bad enough she had it. She was keeping it in the shop window. If anything had happened, we’d be liable.”

“Something did happen.” Becca studied the other woman’s face. “Gaia was brought to the emergency room last night. She may have been poisoned.”

Elizabeth started back, and then relaxed.“You know, she might not be the most reliable person to talk about being poisoned.”

“I know she tried to fake something earlier,” Becca confided. “This was real, though. I was with her in the emergency room.”

“That doesn’t mean…” For a moment, Elizabeth looked her age. “Poor girl. Poor, stupid girl. I assumed she took the cursed thing home.”

Becca was shaking her head.“She says she doesn’t have it. She thinks you took it.”

Elizabeth’s eyes narrowed, appraising Becca anew. “And you believe her.”

“I believe that she doesn’t have it anymore.” Becca searched for an explanation. “And I don’t even know if she knows how Frank died. Honestly, I don’t know if she cares that much. From what she’s said, the affair was basically over. She’s just feeling sorry for herself because you fired her.”

“And so she’s looking to pin the blame on me.” Elizabeth turned toward the bathroom mirror, her face unreadable.

“She’s scared,” Becca said.

“Sounds like she should be.” Elizabeth was still holding the towel, and now she looked down at it, as if it held the answer. “Sounds like maybe Gaia has begun to grow up.”

Chapter 31

“You’re going to tell that detective all this, right?” Maddy’s relief was audible when Becca reached her at work. “’Cause you’re done, right?”

“I don’t know, Maddy. I’m not sure I see the point. I mean, I told him everything I know when he ambushed me at the hospital.”

“Ambush?” Maddy’s surprise must have gotten her a few looks, because her next comment was muted. “Becca, what are you talking about? You’re involved in a suspicious death, and another person has been poisoned.”

“Yeah, I know, only the police might not see it that way.” Becca was walking slowly down the block as she spoke with her friend, her mind on the conversation she’d just had. “If they still think Gaia made herself sick, they might not be looking at all the implications.”

“What implications? That woman Elizabeth said she was cleaning the place out, and I bet that means that stupid plant is gone. But don’t they have tests? Can’t they find traces of things like poisons?” Maddy watched a lot of TV.

“I don’t know, Maddy.” Becca stopped to look up at the late afternoon sky. “They might just dismiss that, or say that’s where Gaia was hiding it. I mean, it was Tiger who told me Elizabeth took it. And honestly? I don’t know how reliable he is on this. He’s told me he’s over Gaia, but I think there’s still something there. He’s more upset about all of this than he’s letting on this, and I’m not entirely sure what to believe.”

***

By the time they hung up, Becca had promised her friend that she would at least seriously think about calling Detective Abrams to fill him in on what Tiger had said.“Really seriously, Maddy,” she vowed. “Even though it’s all hearsay.”

But by then, she’d lost her newfound equanimity. As Clara trotted alongside her, she could see that her person’s focus had turned inward, bringing with it a frown and the kind of bunched brows that the little calico associated with ruffled fur.

When Becca slowed on the walk up to the library, Clara knew her worst fears were being realized. As much as she didn’t want her person looking too closely into her family’s long history with magical felines, she really didn’t want her getting more involved with this case. Although Clara was loath to take any human’s side against Becca’s, for once, she had to admit that Maddy was right. A person had died, and this was no longer a case for an amateur. Becca needed to leave it to the police.

Once again, Clara wished she had Laurel’s gift. Not for anything as trivial as her choice of clothing, but to make her see the sense in Maddy’s words—and to make her as careful of her own life as she was of her pets’. Even if she could simply eavesdrop like her sister did on her person’s thoughts, she’d be grateful. What washer dear person thinking about? Clara looked up anxiously, trying to read Becca’s face, and almost collided with her as Becca’s steps slowed.

Only then did Clara look around her with an almost imperceptible feline sigh of relief. Becca had come to a halt not ten feet from a familiar modern structure, its glass walls revealing the kind of benign busy-ness that Clara would wish her person engaged in full time. Even unable to read the words spelled out over the foyer in oversized letters, she recognized this as one of Becca’s regular haunts: the Cambridge public library.

Eager for her person to enter, Clara gazed inside to where a young boy was checking out two books as his father looked on and an employee pushed a cart loaded with oversized hardcovers. All of this would usually be as irresistible as catnip to Becca, and Clara waited for her person to pull open the great glass doors.

When she didn’t, Clara looked back with growing concern. Becca had her phone out, something she never did inside the building. Which, the cat told herself, must be why she had turned away.

“Tiger? It’s Becca.” Clara felt her whiskers sag. “I was wondering if you could tell me more about the plant you saw. Would you call me?” And with that, she hung up, but if Clara had any remaining hope that her person had put the matter to rest and would proceed inside the library, that soon dissipated. As she watched, Becca began to chew her lower lip and stare off into the distance. Since there was nothing out there beyond a rather drab brown oak, Clara began to fear the worst. When Becca turned her phone off and began to walk back toward the street, picking up her pace as she left the library behind, she knew what to expect.

“Becca, no!” Clara trotted to keep up. When it became clear that Becca was heading once more into Central Square, the calico began to panic. There was a reason Becca had been adopted by the three cats. She needed the gifts of all three, and just then, Clara felt the burden of being the only cat to accompany her person sorely.

“Please…”She did her best to project her thought, her ears twitching back with the effort.“Laurel, if you can hear me, can you help us out?”

Surely, her sister could pick up on her thoughts. She had already revealed her ability to travel shaded, much as Clara herself did. Ears up and every guard hair alert, Clara waited, hoping to get some sense that her slinky middle sister had heard her call and would respond. All she heard was the twittering of birds, though, and so she scurried to follow as Becca began walking even more quickly away from the library and the safety of the known.