by Clea Simon
“And roving hands,” Ande added. “I learned early on never to be in his office alone with him.”
“He’s lucky he hasn’t been sued,” Marcia piled on. “Then again, nobody would get much. Or it would be Margaret’s money. What?”
Ande had made a face. “He was talking with some other investors,” she said. “If you can call them that. Anyway, I stopped working with him.”
“Good for you.” This from Marcia.
“I didn’t realize he was so creepy. Still, this doesn’t look good for Margaret, does it?” Becca drew her knees up and hugged them to herself, prompting Clara to inch closer. “If only these other people would leave.”
“I think she was really upset when she couldn’t reach him.” Becca didn’t even look down as her calico nosed her toe. “But if he cheated on her and might have cost her money, too… I don’t know. Especially if…”
Now it was her turn to clam up. Her friends noticed and began prodding her.
“If what? Come on, Becca, it’s all in the coven.”
“I’ve probably told you more than I should have already, but this is all going to come out, most likely.” Becca’s forehead was creased, though if that was concern over breaking a confidence or worry about her client, Clara couldn’t tell. “The reason Gaia hired me is that she thought someone was trying to kill her. Or, maybe should I say, kill her, too.”
“And once the police hear that, they’ll wonder if they’re connected.” Marcia filled in the blanks.
“Why did she think that?” Ande, the voice of reason.
“Well, her ex-boyfriend told her that he’d seen someone hanging around, like a stalker. She said she didn’t think anything of it, but now she says she thinks someone put wolf’s bane in her tea.” Becca looked from one of her friends to the other. “An entire root. I know it sounds preposterous, but the tincture is really dangerous—a tablespoon or two can kill—and I don’t know how much would be in a raw root.”
“But who would put a root in someone’s tea?” Ande pinpointed one of the issues that Clara knew had been troubling Becca. “I mean, it’s kind of blatant. Like, wouldn’t you notice it when you lifted your mug? That sounds more like what you do to scare someone than to seriously hurt them.”
“Not only that, but I’m not convinced it’s actually wolf’s bane.” Becca looked around at her sister witches. When nobody spoke, she continued. “Gaia said it was, said she’s an herbalist. But I’ve been doing some research online. It doesn’t look right, and also, there’s something about the smell.”
“Wolf’s bane doesn’t smell,” Marcia said softly.
“Yeah, I mean, I didn’t want to taste it, obviously. Hang on.” Becca ducked into the kitchen and returned with the baggie. “Smell that.”
Ande opened the bag and recoiled.
“I should have left it buried,” Harriet muttered.
“That smells familiar.” Marcia wisely didn’t put her face too close.
“I know. Asafetida, right?” Becca looked around for confirmation. “So maybe Margaret wanted to scare her. I mean, she was really upset about Frank, and if she thought Gaia was the other woman…”
“What about this ex-boyfriend?” Ande tilted her head at a quizzical angle. “He might be the one trying to scare her. Convince her that her new romance is too risky and that she should come back.”
After a moment’s thought, Becca shook her head. “Could be, he is the one who’s been looking out for her. Maybe he’s playing both sides, scaring her and then offering to take care of her. But he’s been warning her about a stalker, not poison. Plus, I get the feeling that he’s over her. Of course, that doesn’t mean the crimes aren’t connected. Gaia really thought it was wolf’s bane. Maybe Frank did, too. Sometimes, accidents can be deadly.”
Neither of her friends had a response to that.
“The first thing I have to do is get this tested.” Becca put the bag on the table. “But after that, well, I think I’ve got to hand it over to the police.”
Ande and Marcia exchanged a look. “Becs, I think you should just hand the baggie over now.” Ande spoke in the conciliatory tones of someone breaking bad news. “I know she’s a client, but this is serious.”
“Yeah, you’re right.” Becca sighed. Whether it was doubt or concern over a man they only tangentially knew, a pall hung over the rest of the gathering, even as the three friends settled down to their wiccan routine. When Ande suggested a purifying ritual, Becca appeared visibly relieved. Laurel fled to the bedroom and Harriet recoiled, drawing one mitten-like paw up to her sensitive nose as Marcia waved the smoldering sage and Becca sprinkled salt. Clara made herself watch, however. These humans had no real powers, she knew that. But something about their rituals was vaguely familiar, even if it was simply that their ancestors had witnessed similar foolery through the centuries, at times with a tragic result. Clara hadn’t heard of any such nonsense in Cambridge. Not this century, anyway. But she wasn’t taking any chances. Besides, the way the three women waved their hands was positively entrancing. Almost like one of them was about to throw a toy for her to fetch.
“Look at your cat, Becca.” Clara looked up to see Ande smiling down at her, brown eyes warm with—could it be?—humor. “I swear, she’s trying to learn the ritual.”
“There is something uncanny about her.” Becca sounded unusually thoughtful as she knelt to stroke Clara’s multicolored back. “Even more than her sisters, I feel like she’s an old soul.”
In response, Clara licked Becca’s hand. Salt might not have any magic powers, but it did taste good.
Chapter 13
The ritual did not have the desired effect. Becca slept badly, tossing and turning to the point that her cats fled their regular posts by her feet long before dawn to sleep instead on the sofa.
“I knew she shouldn’t go out!” Harriet kneaded her velvet pillow before settling down. Her complaining came more from concern for Becca than from any real discomfort. At least, that was Clara’s hope, as she nestled on a footstool. “That’s what started all of this.”
“She could at least bring a new man home.” Laurel stretched to her full length along the sofa’s back, a luxury she could rarely indulge in when the three shared their person’s bed. “Then things might get interesting.”
Clara, knowing how her sister could get when she was overtired, didn’t comment. Bad enough the sealpoint had sussed out Becca’s exchange with Tiger, Laurel’s imagination was already a tad overheated. Hoping to keep her sister from reading her mind for more, the plump calico jumped up to the windowsill and watched as the rising sun warmed the red brick across the street to a rosy glow. Not long after, Becca herself rose, a tad rumpled, and promptly provided breakfast. But even as she brewed her own coffee, her gentle face seemed to firm into resolve.
“What’s up with Becca?” Once she’d cleaned her bowl, even Harriet noticed.
“She’s deciding something.” Laurel lashed her tail. More out of habit, Clara suspected, than because it served any purpose of concentration. Laurel was good at suggesting ideas to people. Whether she could always accurately fish them out, however, was a subject of debate. At times, Clara suspected her middle sister of inflating her own skills so Clara and Harriet would take her more seriously.
Even if it was simply a good guess, Laurel purred with pride when Becca muttered something about “getting it done,” and went to get dressed. Hoping for a bit more insight, Clara hopped down from her perch to follow the young woman as she prepared for whatever was to follow. Her usual attire of jeans and a sweater offered little clue, and even Laurel seemed disappointed when she joined Clara to observe their person from the bedroom doorway.
“So it’s not that new man yet.” The Siamese’s rumbling purr began to slow.
“Her new what?” Clara turned toward her sister in alarm. “Laurel, you can’t know—please don’t push Becca into something. We don’t know this Tiger.”
“T
iger.” The purr was back at full volume, Laurel’s whiskers bristling as her eyes closed in delight.
“What?” Harriet ambled up beside them. But Laurel was enjoying her private musing and Clara was inwardly kicking herself for feeding her middle sister’s fantasy as Becca reached for her coat and hat and, stepping over her pets, set out on her mystery mission.
“See if you can steer her toward this Tiger.” Laurel didn’t even look up as Clara summoned up the power to shimmy through the front door. “I do like the sound of him!”
Harriet’s round yellow eyes were the last thing Clara saw as she passed through the door.
***
After their previous outing, Clara was careful to keep Becca in sight as she made her way down the brick Cambridge sidewalk. The scents and sounds of a city could be overwhelming, but the way the young woman walked—a happy bounce, most days—made her easy for the little feline to follow. Today, however, that bounce was almost gone, replaced by a more purposeful gait. Becca was heading to the Cambridge police headquarters, a multistory brick complex in the heart of Central Square.
Despite her best intentions, though, her steps slowed as she entered the busy commercial area—and not just because of the pedestrians. While Clara looked around for stray bicycles or anything else that might trip her person up, Becca’s pace had eased to an amble.
“She is my client.” Clara could hear Becca’s justification, as well as the sense of doubt—or was it guilt?—in her voice. “I should tell her first, so she can relax. Besides, the cops are going to want to talk to her.”
At that, Clara turned from the sidewalk to take in the storefronts. They were walking down the block that held the magic shop as well as the apartment where the murdered man had lived.
“Gaia?” To Clara’s relief, Becca opted for the former, turning in at Charm and Cherish and calling out for the sales girl even as the tinkling bells announced her arrival. “Are you here?”
“As always.” The raven-haired waif appeared from the back room, her smile softening the untruth. When she saw who her visitor was, she brightened further. “Becca! You missed all the excitement.”
“Excitement?” Although her voice had dropped, Becca’s distress could still be heard.
“Oh, I didn’t mean…” Gaia waved her hands, as if to clear the air. “Not poor Frank. Oh, that was a terrible shock. I gather you…well, you know about that?”
Becca nodded. “That’s why I came to see you, actually.”
“Me?” The other girl’s voice squeaked, rather like a mouse that had briefly gotten into the apartment. Unlike that tiny invader, Gaia didn’t immediately scurry beneath a counter, never to be seen again.
“Yes.” Becca began to sound more confident. “I have some good news. But in light of all that’s happened, I was wondering if you still wanted to continue your case.” A pause, and Clara could see the shadow of doubt crossing her face. “I took a moment to examine the root you dropped off, Gaia.”
The sales girl’s gaze dropped to the counter before her, as if she could hide behind those blue-black bangs.
“I’m not an herbalist, but I’m pretty sure this isn’t wolf’s bane.” Becca spoke gently, but with purpose, as she held the baggie up. “But I was thinking I should bring it over to the Cambridge police, just to be sure. Because even if it isn’t poisonous, somebody was trying to scare you, and that could be dangerous. Especially in light of what happened with Frank.”
Gaia didn’t look up, so Becca took a deep breath and continued talking. “I like to think no actual harm was intended. But sometimes a scare could cause someone to, well, you know…especially if that someone already has a health condition. Like a heart condition.” The more jumbled she got, the lower Gaia’s head hung. Clara waited, hoping her person would just come out and explain her theory—that Margaret, or maybe even Tiger, had planted the root to scare Gaia and had, in fact, planted something similar for Frank to find, but with more serious consequences.
“I’m sorry. I’m making a hash out of this. I just wanted to let you know that I don’t think you were ever in any actual danger. I guess I should just go tell the cops.”
“No.” Gaia raised her head finally, eyeing first the front window and then the back door, looking at everything, it seemed, except Becca. “No, you don’t have to do that.”
“But if Marg—I mean, if someone accidentally provoked…”
Something in Gaia’s face stopped her short.
“You knew this wasn’t wolf’s bane?”
The slightest motion of that dark head indicated her assent, as Gaia turned back to the front of the shop, hoping perhaps that help would walk in the door. “Yeah.” Her voice as soft as a kitten’s. “It’s asafetida.”
“And you knew that because…” Breath escaped in one long, drawn-out “oh” as comprehension washed over Becca. She rested the bag on the counter and took in the young woman before her. “Would you like to tell me what happened?”
“Well, when I said I’m learning about herbalism, I really meant it. I mean, I’m going to.” The shop girl exhaled noisily. “Okay, I bought a plant, right? I was at that Spirit of Change festival and it was really pretty. It had these blue flowers and spikey leaves, and I figured this place could use some livening up. So I brought it in. I mean, I knew it had power. The lady who sold it to me said it was a healing plant. I thought it looked nice in the window.”
Becca waited without comment.
“Then Elizabeth, you know, Margaret’s sister? She came in all furious, talking about how my new plant was poisonous and how could I leave it where a child could get at it, and blah-blah-blah. She showed it to me in one of those books.” A pointed look at the packed shelves. “Hey, there’s lots there. I can’t read everything. Anyway, I was going to take it home, only then it disappeared.”
“You said some things had gone missing.”
“Yeah, okay, one thing—my plant. Maybe someone took off with it. It was really pretty. But I can’t help but think Elizabeth, that old witch—I mean, in a bad way—took it. I’d told her I was going to take it home.”
“She may have seen it as a danger.”
“I guess.” Gaia didn’t sound convinced. “Anyway, I got so mad and then, well, Margaret started sniffing around, and I thought I might need some leverage. I figured she’d found out about Frank, though we were already basically over and—”
“Hang on.” Becca reached into her bag for a pad. “When did this all this happen?”
Gaia rolled her eyes. “I don’t know. Maybe, like, five days ago? Yeah, I got it last weekend and that old—Elizabeth saw it, like, right away.”
“So you thought about it for a few days?”
Gaia winced. “It wasn’t like that. Only, it wasn’t until, like, Friday that Frank started wigging out on me. Talking about taking off for Mexico or someplace. I wasn’t going to go with him, but I figured something had happened.”
“So you saw him on Friday?”
“Barely.” The aggrieved girlfriend. “I mean, he said he had to go back to work. That’s usually what he tells her.”
Becca bit back her response.
“I mean, I’d made the place nice and everything.”
“The candle that I asked you about?”
A shrug. “Maybe. They all cost too much anyway. But he wasn’t into it. Just kept going on about having to take care of something. Told me to be ready to go.”
“And were you?”
“You kidding? I know about their arrangement. I figured he was just trying to scam some more money out of the old bag. I mean, he was just wigging. And his old lady was already all over me, so…” Another shrug, like the response was self-evident.
“So you came to see me, to put the blame on her.”
“Look, I was under a lot of pressure. But I’ll be okay now, I think.”
“You think you’ll be okay?” Becca tilted her head. “What do you mean?”
�
��I wasn’t making it all up.” Gaia leaned in. “I mean, Tiger says he’s still worried about me, but really…after the latest?”
Becca waited. Clearly, the woman in front of her was drawing out her story for dramatic intent.
“Maybe you didn’t hear, but the neighbors are saying that the wife is always the obvious suspect.” When Becca still didn’t respond, Gaia went on. “Of course, they don’t even know about her sister, most of them. Everyone just knew Margaret and Frank weren’t getting along, and that she had a temper. Though they could’ve been in on it.”
“You think she—they made him have a heart attack? They brought it about?” Becca’s voice trailed off. Clara looked up, waiting. Surely, her person was going to bring up the previous night’s discussion. The subtleties of poisonings seemed inconsequential to a cat. The only real way to dispatch something was with a good, fast shake. But cats would never be so brutal to one of their own, anyway. And secretly, Clara had always been grateful for that one mouse’s speedy retreat.
“Some heart attack.” A dramatic eye roll dismissed that. “Tiger thinks there’s something else going on, maybe something with Frank’s business, such as it is. Some kind of conspiracy, even.”
Becca looked faintly green, but Gaia didn’t seem to notice.
“Makes me kind of glad her old witch of a sister got rid of my plant. Right? Because otherwise they might be looking at me.”
“I–I guess.” Becca’s brow furrowed, as it did when she was thinking.
“So, we can toss this, right?” Gaia poked at the baggie as if it were a hairball. “I mean, I’ll pay you for your time.”
“You don’t have to.” Becca sounded relieved. “Though maybe Tiger should talk to the police. I mean, if he’s seen someone suspicious hanging around…”
“Yeah, that’s not going to happen.” With a shrug, the goth girl dismissed her sometime boyfriend’s concern. She seemed lighter now and was already turning toward the shelves behind her, ready to re-start her day. “He’s a bit of a drama king, anyway.”
