An Incantation of Cats

“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 pretty sharp 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 this case 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 at the 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’d made 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 taking out 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 she went 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, passing through 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 light-headed. 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.