An Incantation of Cats

“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 There’s so much that’s outdated and nothing has been taken proper care of. Of course, 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 scare him 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 sing-song 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 seat beside 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 had no 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 someone was 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 at Gaia, 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.”

“I have 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 roadway and 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 across its 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 embezzling scam.”

“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 to confront 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 it now?”

“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 through to 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 join me?”

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 school-marmish 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 was her 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.

Chapter 32

As the familiar storefront came into view, Clara let herself hope. While she didn’t like the idea of Becca asking more questions—certainly didn’t like the way that that woman Elizabeth seemed to know more than she should—at least she could understand such an action. Her person was thorough, a researcher at heart. Maybe Becca wanted something clarified. Maybe she had forgotten some important information. Maybe she had left her hat. But a quick glance to the velvet cloche that still topped Becca’s brown curls killed that hope.

Still, as Becca approached the storefront, Clara dared to believe. The store’s darkened interior showed no sign of life, and Becca knocked and waited—normal behavior, her cat told herself. Not rash at all. Only Becca wasn’t giving up. After trying to peer inside, her face pressed against the painted glass, she tried again, rapping on the window, to no avail. And so when Becca ducked around the back of the building, hurrying down the alley like some small and timid animal, the little cat began to feel ill.

“No, Becca!” She tried once again to project her thoughts. To implant the idea of the library, so safe and warm. Or, even better, of the cozy sofa at home. Maybe she had too much imagination, however, and she could see all too well where this was all heading. Because Becca, despite Clara’s fervent desire to warn her, appeared to be doing just what her pet feared most. She was going to try to duplicate her stunt of the previous day—only, this time, without a friend to stand guard. Not a friend who could call out to warn her, at any rate.

If she needed to, she would alert Becca somehow, Clara promised herself. Sure enough, as Clara watched, tail whipping in anxiety, Becca stared up at a high inset window with the intensity Laurel would use to gauge the jump to the top of the bookshelf. But Becca was no cat, and when her bottom didn’t twitch in anticipation, Clara began to breathe easier. Until, that is, she saw that Becca’s gaze had been distracted and she remembered. What Becca lacked in feline grace, she more than made up for in logic. Sure enough, a quick exploration of the back lot uncovered that plastic milk crate over by the dumpster, and it occurred to Clara that someone might have left it for just such an illicit entrance. Someone like Gaia, who wanted an easy way in and out. And although Becca was a good three inches shorter than the goth shop girl, when she stood on the milk crate and raised herself on tiptoe, she was able to reach the window.

“Now if only…” Clara’s ears perked up as Becca spoke, more to herself than to any possible passerby, her pet realized. “Yes!” Her agile fingers, so much more flexible than any talon, had managed to raise the edge of the window and from there it slid easily. With a grunt and a bit of a squeal, Becca pulled herself up, her sneakers finding purchase on the brick. And a moment later, she was inside.

“I’m getting rather good at this.” Becca’s musing would have been inaudible to most, but Clara heard her self-congratulations with dread. As much as she wanted her person to learn new skills, breaking into locked buildings was not a good thing. Surely, Becca knew that. Her reluctance to alert her friend and onetime lookout was proof of that. In Maddy’s absence, Clara hunkered down, determined to keep watch and to be ready to alert her person in case of trouble.

This late in the afternoon, the street was quiet, and Clara was grateful for the shadow of the building, which cloaked her spotted coat further even than her abilities allowed. Invisibility wasn’t everything, however. Despite her abilities, the calico was a housecat by nature, only venturing outside to accompany her person. Not being able to see Becca or, even worse, smell her warm scent, was unnerving, making the little beast feel even more vulnerable. As much as she trusted Becca, she couldn’t help but wonder if this entire venture was misguided and if, perhaps, the person she loved was in way over her head.

A muted crash made Clara jump. Here, in the rear of the building, she was protected from the street. Even if a car were to pull into the lot, she could duck behind the dumpster. Besides, that sound was from inside the building, she realized as she willed her fur back into its proper confirmation. That sound, more of a thud, had probably been occasioned by Becca knocking into something inside the darkened store. No cries of alarm or pain had followed, and none of that horrid squealing of bicycle tires that she could only too well remember.

“Becca?” Clara tried once more to reach her person. The only response was a thump and a soft grunt. The cat could stand it no longer and, bracing herself against what she might find, she shimmied through the brick wall toward her person.

The room Clara found herself in wasn’t that dark. Granted, the afternoon sun was clouded by the glazing on the bathroom window as well as a rime of dirt. And while Becca had opted against turning on the electrical light, she had opened the door to the storefront, where the early twilight illumined the colored paint on the window, if not much else. Still, there was no reason for a creature to bump and flail, as Becca seemed to be doing. An upended side table explained the earlier crash, and even now her person shuffled slowly, hands out in some weak improvisation of whiskers.

Whiskers! Of course! Clara had forgotten how dull human senses were, and so as she sat back and watched her person fuddle, she tried to come up with a way to help her. Clara couldn’t exactly turn on the lights for her. Cats simply didn’t do that, and she was sure there was a good reason why. Nor could she guide her, as dogs seemed to do for their humans at times.

“If only Laurel were here.” She never thought she’d miss her sister. Only now it would be so useful to have her here. She could suggest that Becca close the door to the storefront. If she did that, she could turn on the overhead light. Surely, the slight glow that would leak out the bathroom window would not cause any alarm.

“If only…”

Her thought was interrupted by another crash and muted cursing as Becca reached down to caress her shin. But even as she did, hopping a bit as she rubbed the sore spot, she reached out her other hand for balance and soon found herself leaning on the open doorframe. As if a light had gone on in her mind, she stood, closed the door, and, running her hand along the doorframe, found the light switch. The light that flooded the room was almost too bright for Clara, who squinted as she ducked back into the shadow of the shelving. To Becca, though, it must have seemed wondrous. Clara looked up to see her person beaming back up at the fixture, like it had come to her aid by itself.

Newly empowered, Becca began a search in earnest. Working her way around the store room, she looked inside boxes and behind shelves. She opened canisters to check out their contents, and even though she sniffed some of the more pungent ones—Clara could smell ginseng and ginger, before the stench of asafetida filled the room—she was careful enough not to taste any.

When she moved on to the small kitchen area, Clara crept closer. Becca was concentrating too hard to notice the slight shadow she still cast, and the little cat wanted to observe her person at work. Becca was methodical, moving slowly through the items on top of the tiny fridge one by one and replacing them with care. Opening the fridge, she made a point of sniffing at various jars and bottles, even when the rancid nature of some long-forgotten takeout nearly knocked her head back. For Clara, this was enlightening. She’d only seen Becca research in books or on her computer. Here she could witness for herself the disciplined and thorough nature of her work.

It wasn’t quick, though, and Clara was aware of the passage of time as her person made her way around the room. Although it wasn’t spacious, taking up maybe half as much footage as the tiny shop out front, the room was packed. And the lounge area that had been carved out of one corner, with that overstuffed couch and the coffee table, the tiny kitchenette and the bathroom, were the only areas not lined with shelving and boxes and paper. Clara didn’t know much about inventory, but she had a sneaking suspicion that Margaret was as disorganized a record keeper as she was an employer. Missing funds indeed, the little cat thought with a disdainful sniff.

As she watched, Clara grew increasingly aware of the daylight fading outside—and increasingly alarmed that Becca was not. Becca still had not closed the bathroom door, and while the indoor light would not be that noticeable during the afternoon, as twilight descended, the illuminated window would certainly call attention to itself. Even if Margaret or Elizabeth came by to turn off a forgotten light, Becca could get in trouble, she realized with growing concern. If only her person would notice and shut that door. If only she had Laurel’s power of implanting a suggestion in a human’s brain. If only her sealpoint sister was here with her now.

Clara did her best, concentrating on the window, the light, trying to visualize the portal from Becca’s viewpoint, only showing it as brighter and more obvious. When she failed at transmitting that image to her human, she pictured it instead as it might seem from outside, glowing in the growing dark like a beacon. A clear indicator, if anyone was looking, that someone was inside.

It was no use. Becca was oblivious. And as her cat, all Clara could do was wait, which she did, with an impatience more akin to a hungry Harriet than her usual forgiving self. By then, Becca was working her way down the shelving behind the lounge area, and Clara could only hope she would soon turn and notice the bathroom light. Indeed, when Becca stopped and stared for a moment at the open door, her feline heart leaped. Either her thoughts were finally getting through to her person, or Becca had realized her error.

“The windowsill!” Becca exclaimed out loud, confusing her cat. “Of course!”

Following her person back to the small bathroom, Clara soon had her hopes dashed. Instead of flicking off the light, Becca simply stopped in the doorway and studied the long, high window. Open on one side, where Becca had made her way in, the window had a deep sill that ran along the top of the wall. Sure enough, down at the other end, three potted plants enjoyed the fading glow of the back room’s only natural light. Two were succulents, the closest, an aloe, showing signs of a recent trimming. The third, however, had glossy green leaves and a dying blossom, a sad bruised purple, still hanging from its stem. As Clara watched, Becca climbed up on the toilet seat and, reaching, broke off one of those leaves as well as the limp flower. Wrapping them in toilet tissue, she slipped them in her pocket and washed her hands. Smart moves, Clara knew, but steps that kept her pet from giving the plant material the thorough sniffing she would have liked.

The running water also covered a sound that immediately put Clara’s fur on edge. A sound that Becca’s less sensitive ears were likely to miss. The scrape of metal on metal, followed by the slide of a bolt.

Someone was unlocking the shop’s front door.

Clara whirled around as the door creaked ever so faintly, her tail fluffing as her multicolored fur spiked in alarm. She and Becca would make a run for it. They would fight. They would…but Becca did not react. Whoever was out there was being careful, opening the door carefully so as to not cause the bells to jingle. Was it possible that Becca really hadn’t heard anything? How could she not be aware, as the cat at her side was, of the slow footsteps making their way into the front room?

To Clara’s horror, Becca appeared lost in thought—or in contemplation of the paper towel she was using to dry her hands—and no amount of concentration on her cat’s part was getting her attention. To make matters worse, Becca had pulled her phone from her pocket and had begun fussing with it.

“This is no time to check your messages!” Clara’s urgent warning went unheeded. As the footsteps approached, the calico considered her meager options. Should she run to the front room? Perhaps if she dropped her shading, she could startle the intruder into making some sound. Or better yet, trip the person and also slow her—his?—approach.

If only Laurel were here…

“Move over!” The hiss startled Clara so badly, she nearly fell. But as she scrambled back, she was able to see a chocolate-tipped shadow leap to the sink. Blue eyes blazed down at her for a split second, then turned upward to focus on the pale and distracted face of their human.

“Becca! Listen! Someone’s coming!” Laurel’s thoughts were so loud, even Clara could hear them. “You’ve got to get out of here. Now!”

It wasn’t a tone Clara would ever take with Becca. Even as a silent suggestion, her sister’s distinctive Siamese yowl was sharp enough to pin Clara’s ears back. But whether it was that psychic caterwaul or Becca had finally come to her own senses, it broke through their person’s preoccupied daze. Suddenly alert, Becca started, staring wide-eyed at the open bathroom door.

“She’s going to close it.” Clara began to panic. “She’s going to try and hide!”

“No!” Laurel’s silent cry stretched out into three syllables, and Clara could have sworn she heard the rasp of claws. “Na-oh-wow!”

Becca turned at last back toward the window. From the toilet to the sill, she clambered, almost as graceful as a cat herself. And then through the window and out.

“Thank you!” Clara turned to her sister once Becca was safely through.

“No more sense than a kitten!” Those blue eyes flashed, and then Laurel, too, was gone.

Chapter 33

Clara didn’t even stop to smooth her fur before she leaped too, emerging in the lot behind the store in time to see Becca dashing for the dumpster. After a quick grooming—necessary for her nerves as well as comfort and appearance—Clara joined her, slipping behind the metal container to where her person was crouching.

“Laurel?” Clara cast about for any sense that her sister was still around. “Are you here?”

A faint shimmer in the air made her turn. But when neither Laurel’s blue eyes nor her distinctive yowl emerged from the darkness around them, she settled back. Her sister had come to the rescue of their person, Clara told herself. She had heard her call and done what Clara could not. For that, the plump calico knew, she should be grateful.

If only she could get Becca to move on. Although her sensitive feline ears could pick up movement from inside the building, all appeared still out here. And yet Becca remained in what had to be an uncomfortable position for a human, squatting behind the dumpster like she was stalking prey.

“Of course!” Clara turned toward Becca with a new appreciation. Now that her person was out of danger, she would want to gather information and find out what was going on.

She didn’t have long to wait. With a squeak like a frightened rodent, the back door swung open. Although Clara’s eyes were trained on the entrance, she could hear the intake of breath as Becca saw the door swing open. Maybe it was the shadow that reached across the lot as the back room’s light spilled out. Maybe it was the way the figure paused, scanning the empty space and seeming to settle, if briefly, on the dumpster, where Becca had frozen motionless following that one quick gasp.

Or maybe it was who had stepped into the darkness, holding the back door open behind her. Elizabeth Sherman, a scowl on her hawk-like face, stared into the darkness as if she could see the young woman and the cat hidden there. Then, without a word, she stepped back inside and closed the door. A moment later, the light went out, and all was still.

“Elizabeth.” Becca said the name out loud, like she was trying out the taste in her mouth. “She can’t know…” Her voice dropped off as her awareness of her surroundings grew, but Clara could fill in what her person left unsaid. Becca had been careful during her brief exploration of the store’s back room. It was unlikely that the older woman would be able to tell if anyone had been there—a light could have so easily been left on by accident. There was certainly no way for Margaret’s sister to know that Becca had been the trespasser. And yet, the way she had stared at the dumpster had been unnerving, reminding Clara of how the woman had apparently seen her the day they had first met, despite the magical shading that cloaked her from others’ eyes.

After a few more minutes went by, Becca rose cautiously and, hanging close to the wall, made her way to the street. She walked slowly, and at first Clara wondered if the prolonged hiding had left her stiff. But a glimpse of her person’s face revealed Becca’s preoccupation. Clara couldn’t be sure if Becca had been able to see how the older woman had stared, with almost cat-like focus, at their hiding place. But Becca was certainly mulling over the ramifications of that plant—proof, it seemed, of a dangerous lie.

A metallic shriek had them both spinning around, and Clara’s back arched in fear.

“Tiger!” Despite her excitement, Becca kept her outcry to a whisper, for which Clara was grateful. Still, the little cat eyed the black bicycle, which had come to an abrupt halt by the curb, warily. “You were right!”

“You checked out the shop?” He sounded impressed. “They let you in?”

“I snuck in, to be honest.” Becca sounded half ashamed and half proud of her feat.

“Wow, good for you!” Smiling, he lowered his voice to a conspiratorial hush. “You’re getting good at this.”

“Thanks.” Becca didn’t bother to hide her answering grin. “When you told me that Gaia used to sneak in, I realized it was possible to get in through the back window.” She stood up straight, head back. “She’s a little taller than me, but not by much. And you were right. I found the wolf’s bane in the bathroom. Up on the ledge, where it could get some light.”

“You think the cops will believe you?”

“They have to.” Becca was beaming. “I’ve got proof. I broke off a branch for evidence.”

“This is so great.” He laughed, showing those white teeth. “You’re brilliant, Becca!”

“Thanks.” Becca looked down, blushing, though whether because of the young man’s praise or the way he was looking at her, Clara couldn’t tell.

“I couldn’t have done it better myself.” He reached for her hand. To Clara’s surprise, Becca stepped away.

“I don’t know…” Even in the dim light, Clara could see that her person had gone pale. “Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.”

“What?” Tiger appeared confused by Becca’s sudden change in mood.

“I’m wondering if it was foolish of me to take a sample. I mean, if I show up with some of the poisonous plant, that could make police suspect me, don’t you think?”

He laughed. “You? Becca, come on. They’d know better.”

“I don’t know.” She bit her lip. “I think maybe I’ve got to think about this a bit. Maybe go see Gaia again.”

“Gaia?”

“Yeah.” Becca’s brow wrinkled in thought. “I want to find out more about when Elizabeth warned her about the wolf’s bane and when it disappeared. I mean, maybe there’s been a mistake. I’m getting the feeling that I’m missing something.”

“But if you wait, then Elizabeth might get rid of it.”

“Doesn’t matter. I also took some photos of the shelf in the bathroom, but the light wasn’t great.” She held her phone over for Tiger to see as she clicked on the app. “See?”

He took the device. “Is this inside the store?”

She nodded as he thumbed through, growing more concerned as his face grew serious. “They’re not great shots, are they?”

“I don’t know.” He sounded doubtful.

“Of course! They can still say it was a plant, so to speak.” Becca leaned over. “Wait, that was from earlier. Here, this is the best one. Between this and the sprig, that’s got to be enough for them to at least look into Elizabeth, right? Even if they also suspect me?”

“You know, maybe the police have a point. Maybe you should just let it go.” Tiger sounded shaken. “The cops are already investigating Margaret, and Gaia’s had a hard enough time. Besides, this could still implicate you.”

“That’s sweet of you.” Becca didn’t sound convinced. “But this is what I do, Tiger. Or, well, what I want to do. I’m a researcher, and that means I’m an investigator, and Gaia is my client, so I owe it to her to find out what I can and bring her the results. Besides, I kind of have a friend in the department.”

“Well, just leave me out of it, okay?” He chuckled, but there was a brittle edge to his laugh. “Gaia already thinks I’m kind of a nut. Next thing you know, she’ll think I’m trying to get back together with her or something, and I, well, you know how I feel, Becca.”

“Thanks, Tiger. I do.” Becca smiled at Tiger as he righted his bike and rode off down the street. But even as she began to walk the other way, back to the square, it was clear to her cat that her mind was already a million miles away.

Chapter 34

“If only I could ask you three for advice.” Becca appeared lost in thought. “Maybe you could help me decide what I should do.”

Worried about any additional detours, Clara had stuck close to Becca’s side as she walked home. Still, she managed to slip in moments before Becca unlocked the door to find Harriet and Laurel sitting there waiting.

“What took you so long?” Laurel’s sharp Siamese yawp sounded like a question and an accusation all at once. “Can’t you manage her any better?”

“Now, now, Laurel.” Once Becca had fed them, Harriet immediately became more conciliatory. “We each have our tasks.”

“What tasks?” Clara looked up at her oldest sister, but Harriet’s round golden eyes merely blinked once before returning to her dish.

“If only you were really my familiars.” Becca was leaning back on the counter. Although Clara’s ears flipped back to catch the sigh that followed those words, it was clear that Becca was simply airing her thoughts. “My great-great-grandmother referred to her cat as her familiar, but maybe that was just a figure of speech. Or, I don’t know, a convention of the time. She couldn’t have actually conversed with her cat, could she?”

Clara’s ears flicked, but a heavy paw came down on hers. Harriet.

“No.”

Clara pulled back. “But you were the one who started her on this whole magic thing. If you hadn’t summoned…” She stopped. There was no way to remind Harriet that it was her laziness that had prompted their person to believe she was a witch without insulting her. Besides, Becca had already shown an interest in magic by then.

“It’s in the family,” Harriet mumbled, her mouth full. “It was going to happen anyway.”

“And you’re the one who is supposed to look out for her.” Laurel shot a glance Clara’s way as she sat back and began to wash her face. “Not lecture your elder sisters!”

“I’m sorry.” Clara dipped her head and stepped back from her food dish. Laurel eyed the leftovers, but wisely let Harriet dive in. “But I don’t understand.”

“Don’t be such a kitten.” Laurel sat back to wash her face, scrubbing at her tawny fur with one brown mitt.

“I just feel like you could help me sort this out.” Becca was speaking to herself. Clara knew that. And yet she couldn’t help reaching out to her person, which she did, batting at her leg with one gentle paw.

“What is it, Clara?” Becca roused to lift her pet, cradling her in her arms. “Did Harriet steal your food again?”

“Did not!” A faint grunt of protest as the marmalade cat looked up, her yellow eyes narrowing.

“I didn’t say you did,” Clara mewed softly. “I only wanted to let Becca know that we’re here.”

“So much for being discreet.” Laurel’s implication was clear.

“That’s not fair.” Clara squirmed in Becca’s grasp, desperate to make her sisters understand.

“Whoa, okay!” Becca released her and she jumped to the floor, but even as she did, she turned toward her person with a plaintive mew.

“You three.” Becca shook her head. “You’re worse than the coven sometimes.”

The three littermates froze. This was too close to home.

“Speaking of, I wonder if I should consult the coven?” Becca wandered back into the living room.

“We have to be more careful!” Clara did her best to keep the hiss out of her tone. It wouldn’t help to antagonize her sisters more. “You know the law!”

“I’m not the one who was squealing like a…like a…” Harriet’s short nose bunched up in thought.

“Like a little mouse,” Laurel purred. “Clara, you’re such a clown sometimes.”

“Clara the clown!” Harriet echoed, her voice taking on a singsong quality.

It was all Clara could do to keep from snarling in her own defense. Instead, tail down in a dispirited droop, she followed her person into the living room and jumped up on the sofa beside her.

“Hi, Ande?” As Clara leaned in, Becca absently stroked her spotted back. “Do you have a few minutes?”

Clara couldn’t hear the response as Becca shifted, reaching for her laptop. And as much as she would have liked to spread herself across the warm keyboard, she contented herself with leaning against Becca’s hip as her person quickly typed out some notes.

“Thanks. I’ve been working on this case, and I’ve sort of hit an impasse.” As Clara watched, Becca summoned up a familiar picture. The plant they had just seen, only set in what looked like a lush summer garden. “What can you tell me about aconite—wolf’s bane?”

A slight squawk, as if from a startled sparrow, had Becca shifting. “No, I’m not. I’m trying to stay clear of what happened to Frank Cross. I promise.” Clara looked up at her person. Becca rarely lied, but this was stretching the truth. “Though I do wonder…”

More squawking, and Becca put the phone on the table.

“Hang on,” she said. “Okay, I’ve put you on speaker so I can look it up. Yup, this looks right.”

“What? Becca, what’s going on?” The voice of the other coven member was tinny but recognizable. “You have an aconite plant there? With your cats?”

“No.” Becca shook her head, although the other witch couldn’t see her. “I mean, I have a cutting, but it’s all wrapped up. I wanted to make sure it was from Gaia’s plant.”

“Wait, Gaia, who was having an affair with Frank? Asafetida Gaia? She has aconite, the real thing? Do the police know? Because aconite poisoning can look like a heart attack.”

“I gathered that already.” Becca’s voice dropped. “I also think it might be what made her so sick. I don’t know if you heard—she’s in the hospital.”

“She’s—” Ande caught herself. “Becca, this sounds bad. You don’t think it was some murder-suicide pact, do you?”

“I don’t think so.” Becca bit her lip, deep in thought. “Though someone told me that Gaia knew Frank had a heart condition. A ‘bad ticker.’ Only Gaia’s plant was stolen. That’s the one that I have a clipping from.”

“Wait, I’m missing something.” Ande’s confusion came through loud and clear. “Back up. You have a cutting, but you got it from a plant that was stolen?”

“Yeah, it’s a longish story, Ande. Gaia said Elizabeth Sherman, you know, Margaret Cross’s sister, took the plant from her after telling her how dangerous it was. But Elizabeth said she didn’t, even though I found it at Charm and Cherish, in the back room, and—”

“Hold on.” Clara could almost see the taller witch holding up a long, slim hand to stop Becca from going further. “You went into the back room? I thought the store was closed.”

“It is.” Becca lowered her eyes even as she worked to keep the embarrassment from her voice. “But, Ande, I had a tip. And, well, this is what I do now. I investigate.”

“You got a tip?” Clara’s ears pricked up. The other witch sounded suitably disturbed. “Becca, why aren’t you taking this to the police? This is serious.”

The calico breathed a sigh of relief at this good common sense, but Becca was shaking her head. “I can’t, exactly,” she told her friend. “I mean, Tiger pointed out that it could make it look like I’m involved. You know?”

“Tiger?” Ande might not have been able to see the slight flush that crept over her cheeks, but she must have heard something in her tone. “I don’t think I’ve heard about any Tiger.”

“Oh, Tiger? He’s, uh, he’s Gaia’s ex. He’s been helping. Well, kind of…” There was no hiding the stammer now.

“Becca.” Ande cut her off. “I don’t need any special powers to know that something else is going on here.”

“It’s not…it’s not what it seems.” Becca rallied to complete the sentence. “They’re broken up, but he still cares about her. She told me that herself.”

“Uh-huh.” Ande’s voice dripped with skepticism. “And he’s telling you all of this and not her, why?”

“Because.” Becca was firm. “He doesn’t want to talk with her. He feels he needs to keep his distance and not, you know, give her false hope.”

“Well, then, that makes things easy for you.” Clara looked up as Becca drew a breath. “I didn’t mean like that, Becca. Though, if they really aren’t together, well, why not? But what I meant was kind of the opposite. I may be wrong, but it sounds like this guy is getting your head in a muddle.”

Clara looked at her person, but Becca didn’t respond and Ande kept talking.

“Okay, I don’t like any of this, but you want my advice, right? I say you should go to the cops. But if you’re not ready to do that, and you want to know more about this plant and the sisters Gaia used to work for, then why don’t you ask Gaia? She doesn’t have to know her ex-boyfriend was involved. Does she?”

Chapter 35

“I don’t like it. But I never liked any of this.” Laurel was grooming as Becca hurried to get dressed the next morning. Much to the sealpoint’s dismay, Tiger hadn’t called, and Becca had spent the evening online. Her one call in the morning had been to the hospital to ask about visiting hours. “I blame that girl, with her fake hair and all those piercings. That girl is a liar.”

“If someone wasn’t such a stickler for the rules…” Harriet fixed Clara with her yellow eyes. For once, Clara felt she couldn’t meet her gaze.

“I know,” the multicolored cat acknowledged, dipping her head. She had already let her fluffy oldest sister finish her breakfast, the uncertainty of the day having chipped away at the plump calico’s own appetite. “But we have to be extra careful,” she murmured to her sisters in her own defense. “Becca suspects something, I know it.”

“Well, of course. Because you let yourself be seen by that Elizabeth woman.” Laurel wasn’t letting this drop. But Clara didn’t hear her. She was already shimmying through the door to follow Becca as her person hurried down to the street.

That didn’t mean the calico wasn’t mulling over what her sisters had said as her person set out at a brisk pace, her hat jammed down over her brown curls. Laurel’s claim that Clara herself was responsible for the cats almost being revealed struck particularly close to home, she thought as she trotted down the sidewalk, careful to stay shaded in the early morning sun. Clara still couldn’t forget how the store owner’s older sister had looked at her—had addressed her—although Clara had thought she was being so careful, and she replayed the scene again and again as Becca made her way swiftly through the morning commuters. Clara had to dart to keep up, but the questions kept resurfacing, distracting the little cat as she ran. Had she let something slip in her concern for Becca? Was Becca beginning to suspect that her three cats were more than ordinary house pets? If their person kept up with her research, she was sure to uncover more about the long interaction between the women of her line and the cats who loved them.

That history, Clara knew, was why the rules had been initiated. Centuries may be long to humans, but to cats, who pass along memories from generation to generation, they were only a swish of the tail. And Clara knew as well as her sisters that when humans had last found out that their cats had the powers to protect and serve them, well, that had ended badly for both the pets and their people. Those bad old days were why the cats had the rules that now governed Clara’s family.

But was it time for them to change? As Clara followed Becca back to the hospital, she thought about the coven that her person had joined so openly. Witchcraft was no longer forbidden, and while it seemed in some ways like magic had become devalued, it also appeared that any actual danger in practicing the old ways was past. Clara had always been so careful in how she observed the law, even taking on her sisters. Only now that she thought about it, about Elizabeth seeing her and how much easier it would make things for Becca if she could do the same, she couldn’t help but wonder.

Would it really be that awful if Becca knew what her feline family could do for her and how much the three of them really loved her?

That is, assuming they did.

“I’m pretty sure Laurel and Harriet love Becca. They have to…” Clara barely voiced the thought. After all, Laurel had come to Becca’s aid. Or was that only because Clara had called her? And surely Harriet had grown fond of the curly-haired young woman who had proved so reliable with the treats. “Just because they complain…”

The little cat was brought up short as Becca stopped suddenly before her. It took her a moment to realize they had already arrived at the main entrance to the hospital, and the law-abiding Becca was taking a moment to power down her cell.

Gaia was expected to be released today, she had gathered from Becca’s earlier inquiry. That explained why she had rushed right down after feeding the cats and before even taking any coffee for herself. But Clara could see no sign of the slight, black-haired girl anywhere on the sidewalk or inside the big glass doors once Becca had stepped through them. In fact, she could only make out three people in the lobby, an elderly couple and an orderly, his eyes on the elevator as it pinged its way down.

“Hey there!” The voice made Becca turn. Gaia, looking pale but happy, was walking toward her, a white hospital bag under one arm. “Did your sensitivities let you know I was being released?”

“Not exactly.” Clara could hear the happiness in her person’s voice. “Admissions did. But I’m glad. Actually, I was hoping we could talk, really talk. I’ve got a ton of questions.”

The other woman nodded. Without her usual makeup, she looked younger. Better, too, thought Clara. “Sure, I owe you, I think. Besides,” she held up her phone, which, contrary to the posted regulations, glowed with life. “My ride’s going to be a few. I’m not quite up to walking yet.”

“I’m sorry.” Becca backtracked. “I didn’t even ask. How are you feeling?”

“A little weak. I’m glad you…well, you may have saved my life.”

“I wish I could credit my powers, but I really just kept calling you because I wanted to get you to come down to the police with me.”

“Stupid me, huh?” The pierced brow rose as she smiled. “But now I’ve told that fat cop everything I know.”

“You told him about the wolf’s bane?” Becca asked. The other woman dipped her head in a quick, embarrassed acknowledgment. “Did you tell him that you thought Elizabeth stole it?”

Gaia’s expression turned equivocal. “I told him that it disappeared, but I don’t know…”

“That’s just it.” Becca leaned in. “I do. I saw it. Tiger told me where to look.”

“Tiger? How did he know?”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought him up. Though, to be honest, I have some questions about him, too.”

“I know, you want him to talk to the cops, and I’ll work on him.” She sighed. “I think he’s hoping that, after all this, we’ll get back together.”

Whatever Becca had been about to say appeared stuck in her throat. “Gaia?” After a moment’s pause, she tried again. “How well do you know Tiger?”

A snort of laughter. “What’s to know? He’s a nice guy. Hey, he brought me a change of clothes.” She hefted the white plastic bag. “I did not want to wear these home again. Not after being so sick.”

Becca wasn’t going to be distracted. “You don’t think he’s a bit too involved in what’s going on? I mean, with Frank and all?”

“Tiger?” She didn’t bother to hide her humor. “No way. He’s sweet, but he’s a straight shooter. I mean, his motives are clear.”

“Poor Becca.” As much as Clara wanted to, she couldn’t rub against her person. She didn’t really understand what Becca was getting at, but she did know she didn’t want her person to be hurt again. “And Laurel didn’t see this coming.”

“I’m glad for you.” Becca managed to sound normal. She even wrangled a smile as the other woman turned toward her. “I mean, if that’s what you want.”

“Yeah, I think so.” A girlish shrug and another smile. “We’ll see, right? Hey, you want a ride? We can talk to him together.”

“Now?” Becca squeaked like a cornered mouse. “No, no, thanks.”

“Okay.” Gaia was too distracted to notice. “Well, thanks for coming by. I appreciate the visits, and, you know, everything you’ve done. Maybe that crazy Elizabeth is right.” She flashed a wide grin. “Maybe you really do have some magic powers after all.”

“Miss, are you feeling ill?”

The orderly hovered. Becca had stepped back as Gaia had headed out the door. She’d only closed her eyes for a moment, but the hospital staff was alert.

“I’m fine.” Becca stood up straight. “It’s just…personal stuff. Men.” She was trying for brave, Clara knew, and loved her all the more for it.

“Tell me about it.” The woman in scrubs turned toward the glass double doors. Gaia could be seen on the sidewalk, craning her head eagerly toward the street. “They go for the fragile type, don’t they? She has that poor Tiger wrapped around her finger.”

Becca’s smile wobbled, only to give out entirely as she made her own slow way toward the exit. Clara couldn’t blame her. As grateful as she was that her person found out about Tiger’s duplicity before anything had happened between them, she still understood her disappointment. It might not be exactly the same as waiting at a promising mouse hole all night, only to realize it was really a crack in a baseboard, but it was similar. One got one’s hopes up, and it hurt to reconcile with reality.

Clara kept her eyes on Becca as she ambled through the hospital lobby. Of course, Becca was dispirited, but she was moving so slowly her cat began to worry. Was she remembering her questions, the ones she hadn’t asked? Or, no…as Clara caught her looking out through the lobby’s glass doors, she understood. Becca was waiting for Gaia to be picked up, hoping to avoid an awkward meeting with the faithless Tiger.

“She could have him if she wanted.” An unexpected voice in her ear caused Clara to jump. Although she couldn’t see Laurel, she would recognize her sister’s distinctive yowl anywhere. “He was seriously interested in her. I could tell.”

“She doesn’t want him if he really wants to get back with Gaia.” Clara turned toward the where a glint of blue betrayed her sister’s presence. “Even if he doesn’t, he’s nasty to lead Gaia on.”

“She was sad.” A faint disturbance in the air signaled the flick of a tail. “He wanted to make her feel better.”

Clara wisely held her tongue. Besides, Becca had stepped closer to the windows that looked out on the entrance. If her person was braving the visual confirmation of her crush reuniting with Gaia, she was going to stand there with her, whether she could comfort her or not. She could feel the shuddering breath Becca drew as she watched Gaia raise an arm in greeting. A tan beater—a Toyota, easily twenty years old—pulled up, its fender held in place with a bungee cord. But it wasn’t the re-appearance of the battered old car that made Becca gasp.

The young man who had jumped out of the driver’s seat wasn’t the tall, pale bike messenger Becca had come to know. This man wore a leather jacket with his jeans, and the blond tips of his black hair stood out as he reached for Gaia’s bag.

Chapter 36

“Gaia, wait!” Becca broke into a run, plowing through the knot of people waiting for the revolving door. “Gaia!”

But even the haste that won her several hard stares and one loud complaint wasn’t enough. By the time she was through, the car had driven off, with Gaia settled in the passenger seat. Becca pulled her phone from her pocket and stared at its blank screen in disbelief.

“Guard!” Becca whirled around and then raced back inside, looking for a uniform. An official. Anyone.

“That girl your friend?” A graying man stroked what looked like a day’s growth of beard.

“Yes, and she just—that driver…she thinks it’s her ride share, but he may be dangerous.” She punched a code into her phone. “Come on!”

“She got in the car willingly?” the man asked, his voice thoughtful.

“Yeah, but…” Glancing up from her device, Becca looked once more out the window and then, turning back, she took in the slight, elderly man on crutches beside her. Purple bruising ran from the edge of his tonsure of graying hair down to his whiskery chin, but the dark eyes that peered into hers were clear, their gaze piercing.

“I’m sorry,” she said with a sigh of resignation. “That was rude of me to push through like that. Pointless, too.”

He shrugged and a smile brightened his features. “You were scared. I’m used to it. Nobody sees us old folks. ’Specially not girls like that. I wouldn’t worry too much about that one, though. Like I said, she got into that car with her eyes wide open.”

“I really am sorry.” Beck paused to take in the man before her. It wasn’t just the beard that gave him a slightly scruffy appearance. His khakis, which dragged as if sized for a taller man, were stained, and that cheery smile revealed several missing teeth. “Do you need some assistance?” Her voice, as she asked, became soft, like she was afraid of offending.

“Me? Nah.” He waved her off with hands chapped rough. “I’m doing better than anyone expected. Charmed, I am. One vet helps another.” He chuckled at some private joke.

“Mr. Harris?” a worried male voice called across the lobby. “There you are. Come on, Bill, we’ve been waiting.” A tall orderly in lime green scrubs was loping toward them.

“My valet,” the ragged man said with a wink to Becca.

“Bill Harris.” The orderly took the older man’s upper arm. “You’re due in PT. You weren’t trying to walk out again, were you?”

“Just keeping an eye on the young lady here.” That smile again. “Sentry duty.”

“More like an old sailor’s tricks.” The orderly looked over at Becca, his wide face creased with concern. “He wasn’t bothering you, was he, miss?”

“No, not at all.” She shook off the suggestion as comprehension dawned. “Wait—Bill Harris, are you the man who was hurt in the hit-and-run? They said a veteran…”

“At your service, miss.” A dip of the tonsured head. “Only it may be a while before I’m cleared for duty again. Gotta watch out for those waves.”

“Mr. Harris?” The orderly tugged gently, turning the man. “Don’t you remember we talked about this? You’re not in the Navy anymore.”

“We’re still at war, son.” The bruised face gone serious. “And this young lady, she’s on the front lines. You remember what I told you, missy,” he said as he was led away. “Eyes wide open!”

***

“What was that about?” Becca mused as the two slowly ambled off. “Maybe he thought I was USO? I mean, I’ve heard of the WAVEs but…” Although she wasn’t addressing Clara, the calico took her question seriously. Becca was mostly concerned with Gaia and with the identity of the man who had driven her off, the little cat knew. But the stranger who had accosted her person was of more interest to the little cat.

“I wish I understood.” Clara looked up to see Becca chewing on her lower lip, a sure sign that she was deep in thought. When she once again consulted her phone, Clara breathed a sigh of relief. Surely, her person was going to call for aid or a consult. As much as her cats were not fans of Becca’s coven, there was a place for other humans in their person’s life. But when Becca simply stood there, staring at the device, she realized something else was going on.

“Is it possible?” Becca’s voice was too quiet for any but her cat to hear. But lacking Laurel’s particular skill, the shadowed feline could do nothing but wait.

The hospital lobby, however, was not a safe place for a small creature. Although Becca was standing by the door, Clara soon realized that she needed to take cover. The same craft that enabled her to virtually disappear could all too easily cause even the most careful pet lover to trip over the little feline. So after the third near collision, Clara scooted over to a bench that ran along the window. She might not be able to hear everything that Becca said from here, but she could keep an eye on her and keep herself safe.

“Watch it!”

Clara whirled at the unmistakable hiss. “Laurel?”

A slow blink made the almond-shaped blue eyes disappear and then appear again in the shadow by the bench’s legs. “I was wondering when you’d have the sense to get out of the way.”

“What are you doing here?” This was the second time Laurel had surprised her, and as much as she welcomed her sister’s assistance, Clara had to admit the sealpoint’s sudden appearance had unnerved her.

“What aren’t you doing is more like it.” Laurel’s distinctive voice wound her own question up into a caterwaul, and Clara looked around in concern. “Oh, don’t be such a clown, Clara! You think these people can even hear themselves think?”

That stopped her, and she looked toward where her sister’s shadow could be seen as a vaguely lighter area against the bench. “Laurel, can you hear what Becca’s thinking? The way she was staring at her phone has me a little concerned.”

The eyes went wide in mock surprise. “But I thought you didn’t want me listening in on Becca. Now this is interesting…”

“Please, Laurel.” Clara was at a loss to explain. “Something is going on, and I’m worried.”

“Why don’t you just go back out there?” Her sister blinked, her shade retreating into the darkness. “And listen for yourself?”

Sure enough, Clara saw, Becca was no longer staring at her phone. Instead, she held it up to her ear. But even feline senses were no match for the cacophony of the lobby, and so Clara made her way back to her person, darting around a family of four and a large man on crutches to stand as close to Becca’s feet as she could without touching.

“Detective Abrams, please.” She kept walking, the phone up to her ear. “It’s Becca Colwin returning his call. Calls, I guess. He’s…what? He’s looking for me? I’m—no, you don’t have to pick me up. I’m going to Charm and Cherish. I should be there in about fifteen minutes. If he can meet me there, I expect to have something to show him.”

Chapter 37

Clara looked around for her sister, but Laurel’s blue eyes didn’t peer back from under the bench. When the calico’s sensitive nose failed to catch any hint of another feline in the crowded foyer, she realized her sister had slipped away without her.

For one awful moment, Clara thought Becca had, too. Then she saw her person on the sidewalk and with a leap made it through the glass of the front window to land on the sidewalk beside her. But even had Clara not been shaded, Becca might not have noticed the sudden appearance of her pet beside her. As she walked through the small crowd of a taxi line, Clara’s person seemed to be focusing on another world. Almost, the cat thought, as if she could see the unseen.

Could it be? As recently as a week before, the little cat would have thought this to be impossible. As much as Becca wanted to have magical powers, such abilities were solely the province of cats, or so the little calico had always believed. And although Becca’s research had brought her perilously close to the truth about her ancestors—those brave women who assisted their felines in the application of the craft—her approach was all wrong. As much as she loved the three littermates she’d adopted, Becca still viewed them merely as pets, rather than guides and teachers, a mistake that Clara had blithely assumed doomed any attempts at magic to failure.

In the last few days, however, Clara had found some of her core beliefs about her beloved person, and about her own powers, to be challenged. She simply didn’t know.

To be on the safe side, Clara kept herself cloaked as she tagged along after her person. Although they had cleared the crowd immediately outside the hospital, the little cat was concerned. Becca seemed to be lost in thought, oblivious to the city around her. Trotting alongside her person, Clara saw that she was frowning, her sweet face intent on something beyond the little cat’s perception. But since Clara could not smell any predators in the immediate vicinity, all she could do was fret over what was occupying her person so.

Hearing, however, was different. Clara was a city cat, and from her earliest days in the shelter she had become accustomed to the sounds of people and their machines. As a reasonable creature, she had an aversion to cars, and thus she was grateful when Becca turned down a residential street. She had a sense of where her person was heading—the store where she had asked that big detective to meet her was not that far away, especially if she took the bus from Harvard Square. Still, she stuck close by Becca’s feet.

As they turned down another corner, Clara realized that Becca was retracing her path of the other day, when she and the bike messenger had walked to the nearby square. This route was not only quieter, it was, Clara suspected, what her person would term a “shortcut,” a very human concept, but one that she accepted as her person’s choice.

As one tree-lined block followed another, Clara began to relax. The roar of the city’s traffic never totally disappeared, but as she trotted alongside Becca, she could hear other sounds that recalled different times. A bird sang somewhere unseen, and two squirrels squabbled over the first of the season’s acorns. In such a setting, the click of a bicycle gear merited no more than the flick of an ear. The squeak of a brake, though, that caused the cat to turn, as a sudden whiff of a familiar scent made her fur begin to rise.

“Becca!” The voice, friendly if a bit breathless, startled Clara’s person, who whirled around with a gasp.

“Sorry.” He smiled as he jumped off his bike and walked it up to her. He reached to embrace her and Becca almost tripped as she scrambled out of reach. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Tiger! Goddess bless.” Those were strong words for Becca, and for a moment Clara worried that her person had fallen harder than her pet knew. Only, there was a note in Becca’s voice that Clara couldn’t place. What was her person thinking? “It’s Gaia. I think she’s in trouble,” she started to explain, her face clouded with worry.

“Gaia?” He stepped back, considering.

“Yeah, I came by to talk to her. Only she left with someone, and, well, I’m heading over to meet with the police now.” Becca could have been talking to herself, she seemed so preoccupied. “But I think you were right. I think maybe Elizabeth was behind the poisoning.”

“I knew it.” Tiger nodded, a grim half smile spreading across his face. “I bet they’ll tie the poison in with Frank’s death, too.”

“That’s right.” Becca looked up at him. “You said Frank was poisoned from the start. Back before any of us had heard anything.”

She paused ever so briefly, lost in thought, and began to walk once more, heading, Clara knew, into the square. “Before Gaia had heard anything, come to think of it. Although, didn’t you say Gaia knew he had a bad heart?”

“Yeah, she did.” His face was unreadable as he walked beside her, rolling his bike by his side. “I remember her telling me. She must’ve forgot.”

“Funny thing for her to forget.” Becca could have been addressing the bricks of the sidewalk. “Come to think of it, you knew about Gaia being poisoned before anyone else, too.”

“Well, yeah. I was with her.” Those blue eyes went wide with innocence as he strode beside her.

“No, you weren’t.” Becca shook off his assertion as she kept walking. If her pace picked up a little, it was barely perceptible to any but the small cat who trotted by her side. “I was on the phone with her when she started getting sick. She was alone. I’m the one who called 9-1-1.”

As she talked, Becca turned a corner, and Clara saw the traffic of Harvard Square ahead. His bicycle at his side, Tiger lengthened his stride to move slightly ahead, a tilt of that handsome head as he tried once again to catch her eye. “And am I ever glad you did, but she called me first, and then I came by.” The assertion came out with force, like he was claiming the sick girl. “Truth is, I thought she was just being dramatic. Trying to get my attention.”

Becca shook her head again slowly and sighed, Clara thought, with a trace of sadness. “She wouldn’t do that. She broke up with you. She’s told me you’re the one who’s been trying to get back together.”

“Well, yeah.” That grin as he sped up, moving slightly ahead of Becca. Trying to get in front of her. To catch her eye. “The girl has some pride, after all. Good old Gaia. Crazy girl.”

“Not like her buddy Gail Linquist, huh?” Becca’s voice was flat. She was waiting as she walked, Clara realized, though for what, the loyal calico couldn’t tell.

“No way.” He was laughing, a broad chuckle that matched the slight rattle of his bike, as he shifted his grip on the black metal frame. “I never understood that friendship.”

“You don’t know her, do you?”

“Excuse me?” A burst of laughter followed, but when Becca finally turned to face him, she didn’t join in.

“Gaia—Gail—they’re the same person, and you don’t know her. You’re not her ex-boyfriend.” She said it simply, her voice a trifle sad. The noise of the traffic would have drowned out her words if they hadn’t stood so close to each other. “Your name isn’t Tiger.”

“I’m not?” One look. A laugh, and he gave it up. “Yeah, well…” With a tilt of his head, the tall, lean man smiled down at her. “You made that assumption, didn’t you? I just went with it. Come on, Becca. It was no big deal.”

“No big deal?” Her voice had taken on a steeliness that Clara didn’t recognize. “Why did you pursue me?”

Neither, apparently, did the cyclist beside her. “Why?” He chortled as if she had told a joke. “Why does a guy like me usually pursue a girl like you?”

“Why?” The steel replaced by ice. Another laugh, but something had shifted. He leaned back, straightening the bike. Becca started toward the intersection ahead, then stopped once more. “It had to do with the photos, didn’t it? The plant I saw, or…”

She paused, her eyes going wide. “You were the one who suggested I go back to the store. You egged me on, hoping I’d get caught. You called Margaret to tell her that you saw someone breaking in, only I hadn’t done it yet. But then, when I was foolish enough to break off a branch…” A gasp as the implications of that call—the missed messages, the police looking for her—hit home.

“Now wait a minute.” He reached out to take her hand, but she jerked her arm away. To Clara’s relief, Becca began to walk again, heading swiftly toward the noise and bustle of the busy street ahead. Taller than her by a head, the bike messenger had no problem keeping up, wheeling his black-framed bike by his side. They were almost at the corner. Clara lashed her tail, unsure what to do or how to intervene. “I never told you to climb in a window—”

“You knew I would.” Becca pulled her phone from her pocket and peered down at it as she walked, talking all the while. “You knew, because you saw me break into Frank Cross’s office. You must have been the one who told the police. Only you didn’t know what I’d found, did you? Until you saw…”

She slowed as she began poking at her phone.

“I’m sending that photo to the police.”

What happened next was too fast for Clara to react. Like a real jungle beast, the man they knew as Tiger lunged, grabbing for the phone in Becca’s hand. But Clara jumped as his bike clattered to the ground, tripping him as he surged forward.

“No, you don’t understand!” The fake Tiger struggled to his feet, reaching for Becca as she stumbled backward. Stumbled to the curb, desperate to get away. “I was trying to protect you. I would have if I could—”

To Clara’s dismay, Becca stopped. “What?”

“My bosses.” He stood and brushed off his knees as two women in suits pushed by. When he looked up, his face was sad. “They are not people you cross.”

“His new business partners…” Becca could have been talking to herself. “The ones Ande knew about but Margaret didn’t. The ones Gaia didn’t like…”

“I’m just the messenger,” he said, taking a careful step forward. “I pick things up and I drop them off. Sometimes, they have me clean up the mess.”

“Like Frank Cross?” Becca took another step backward. Already, the noise of the busy traffic was enough to nearly drown out her quiet query. “You knew about his affairs. About how he’d died before anyone else did.”

He nodded, coming closer. “He had a sweet deal, but he panicked. All he had to do was change out the plates and keep his mouth shut.”

Waves. The Ocean State, the symbol of Rhode Island. Clara didn’t know if she was picking up Becca’s thoughts or if she had heard this. Only that it was true.

“The hit-and-run?” Becca must have made the same connection. In the midst of the square’s bustle, she was a point of quiet inquiry.

The man before her nodded once again, his pale face sad. “It was an accident. One of the boss’s sons. He was drinking.” He shrugged. “We could get rid of the car, but we needed clean plates right away to make the trail disappear. All Frank had to do was keep quiet.”

Pedestrians parted around them. Behind her, the morning traffic was only beginning to die down.

“That’s all you have to do, too, Becca.” His voice was soft. The warmth had returned. “I don’t want to hurt you. Never did. Honest. I really like you. Now, just give me the phone.”

Time stood still as Clara looked from the man back to her person. Surely, the little device wasn’t worth the trouble. As the calico looked on, Becca held it up and took a step back.

He lunged. Grabbing the arm that held the phone, he wrestled it from her grasp. Only then did Clara see the cold glint in his eye as he pulled it free and pushed her backward into traffic.

“No!” Clara yowled. She was too small to push Becca to safety, too small to take down this predator with the assumed name. But appearing out of nowhere, she had the element of surprise. As Becca’s hat went flying, the calico leaped, making herself visible as her person stumbled after the little cloche, into the street.

“Clara?” Crying out the name, Becca caught herself, and, turning, fell to her knees beside the curb as a passing pickup truck crushed the hat into the pavement. “How…?”

But whatever she was going to say was caught up in a thunderclap of pain and noise, and Clara knew no more.

Chapter 38

“Wake up, little one.” A kind voice, long remembered. “Wake up!” The rough warmth of a tongue. “Wake up!”

“Mama?” Clara struggled to open her eyes, only to find Laurel’s steely blues glaring down at her.

“Move it!” Her sister’s hiss had an edge of—could it be?—fear, and Clara struggled to her feet. “Quickly!”

She was in Harvard Square, with Laurel’s shaded body, the merest hint of milky coffee in the afternoon light, propping her up against a curbstone.

“What happened?” Clara took a step and nearly fell as her right front leg gave out. Before she could hit the pavement, however, she felt herself pulled upright. Laurel had her by the scruff of the neck. Despite the pain—her paw was throbbing—the grip was strangely comforting, and Clara relaxed.

“Great Bast, you’re heavy!” Laurel muttered, her breath warm on Clara’s neck. “All righty, then. Off we go!”

Clara felt herself being lifted into the air, and the strange tingling of her guard hairs that signaled a passage through an earthly barrier. “Wait!” she managed to yell as she felt her sister begin to take flight. “We can’t leave Becca!”

“Becca’s fine.” Laurel growled through clenched teeth. “See for yourself.”

She turned, maneuvering Clara like a kitten. Sure enough, Becca was standing on the sidewalk, alone. The man she had known as Tiger appeared to have fled, leaving her gaping, her head swiveling between the sidewalk and the hat that now lay squashed flat in the road before her. But it wasn’t the cloche she seemed to see.

“Clara?” She was blinking at the traffic, which sped past unabated. “Clara kitty?”

“She can’t see us.” Laurel muttered. “Not now.”

“But she’ll be worried.” Despite the pulse of pain, she yearned to be back on the ground with her person.

“She’s about to be very busy,” said her sister. Sure enough, a siren added its wail to the noise, causing Becca to turn in its direction and set off at a run. “Now are you content, you silly clown? Because I’ve got enough to do to get us both home without having to answer all your questions.”

With that, Laurel began to purr, and the rising and falling vibration lulled Clara, who closed her eyes and felt herself a kitten again. She was carried like this once. She recalled a storm and a sudden exodus. The abandoned shed where she and her sisters had been born was no longer safe, a soft voice purred. They were going to a new home and to a new responsibility. They were to take up the mantle of the cats before them, joining forces to assist a young woman who was also just beginning to make her way in the world.

“You’ll be fine here.” She recalled a gentle push. A nudge with a wet nose sending her waddling after her sisters into the box trap the shelter worker had set out. “Look out for each other, girls!”

“We will, Mama,” Clara called. And her sisters? They must have been there before her. All she could remember was that rough, warm tongue.

“There we go. Almost all better now.”

It felt so good. The pain was almost gone, and Clara looked up to see not green eyes but gold. Harriet’s warm bulk towered over her as she groomed Clara’s injured leg. They were on the sofa, in Becca’s apartment. Safe.

“Harriet?” Clara blinked, confused.

“Hush, little one.” Between Harriet’s warm bulk and the reassurance of her purr, Clara relaxed. Strangely, she did feel better. She didn’t know Harriet could heal.

“There’s lots you don’t know, Clown.” Laurel, washing her own booties, murmured from her perch on the sofa’s back. “Not that you’d ever listen…”

“Hush.” Harriet looked up. Clara felt it too, the rapid patter of footsteps running up the stairs. A moment later, the sound of a key in the lock, and then Becca, their Becca, was racing in. She scooped Clara up in her arms.

“Clara! I was so worried.” She hugged the calico close. “I thought I saw you outside. I thought you were hit by a car. I was so scared.”

Clara mewed softly and squirmed to be put down. The affection was lovely, but the embrace was making her leg ache.

“Clara?” Becca held her pet before her, then gently placed her on the floor. Clara stepped gingerly. Yes, her leg no longer throbbed, and it bore her weight. Still, she lifted it ever so slightly. “You’re limping,” her person noted.

As if to prove her wrong, Clara walked over to Harriet and nuzzled her oldest sister. It was the least she could do. “Thank you.”

***

“I don’t understand. I was sure…” Becca shook her head. Without her new hat, her curls sprang free. Clara had never seen a more welcome sight. “Anyway, you’re here. All three of you, and now I’ve got to go. I’ve got to meet Detective Abrams and explain everything. The minute this is all settled, though, I’m taking you to the vet.”

“Good job.” Laurel’s retort lacked its usual bite, and Clara looked over at her sister. “Little Miss Know-it-all.”

Harriet, settling back on the carpet, simply closed her eyes and continued with that self-satisfied, healing purr.

“I have to say, this one is coming along rather well.” Laurel watched as, after another round of pets and some treats, Becca found another hat and, with a last backward glance, locked the door behind her.

“Coming along?” Clara looked at her sister. “You mean, she can learn?”

But Laurel only gave the feline equivalent of a shrug. And since Harriet was now sound asleep—snoring, in fact—Clara lifted her tender paw, shimmied her hind quarters, and leaped through the wall to follow their person back down to the street.

“Oh, don’t be silly.” The voice beside her startled Clara, and she landed hard on the sidewalk. Laurel’s presence was unnerving. Even more so was the feel of teeth on her skin as her older sister once again lifted her by the scruff. Sleepiness and that strange tingling, and then they were in Central Square, outside Charm and Cherish, as Becca came up the block.