by Clea Simon
“It’s fine.” Kathy waved her off and took another swallow, wrinkling her freckled nose at the taste. “After all, you’ve had quite a shock. But anyway, that’s not why I came over.” She raised her glass in a salute. “I’ve got a job for you!”
“Yes?” Becca actually shifted to the edge of her seat. Kathy grinned and almost shimmied with satisfaction as she took another sip.
“She’s toying with her.” Laurel’s tone made her sister turn. She was staring at Kathy as she choked down the wine. The expression on the feline’s face was a little hostile but also a bit respectful, and Clara didn’t think it was because of their visitor’s ability to drink.
“How dare she!” Clara could feel her ears going back.
“No, it’s okay.” Laurel raised one dark chocolate paw, ready to bat her younger sibling. She was leaning in and listening—using her skills to hear the thoughts behind the words. “She’s dragging it out to make it last. She wants to bond. Like we do.”
Clara lashed her tail, unsure of that, and Laurel wisely lowered her paw.
“It’s not a glamorous position,” Kathy was saying. “And maybe you wouldn’t even want it. Only, well, I know how tough it is out there.” Now it was her turn to lean in, and her voice got softer. “You know what a hard time I had after Joey and I broke up,” she said. “How I fell into a depression.”
“I don’t think I knew you then.” Becca’s voice was gentle, and when her guest didn’t respond, she kept talking. “I’m sorry it was hard for you.”
“Thanks.” Her friend looked down into her glass, her voice unusually quiet. “The coven really saved me. We witches have to stick together.”
“Definitely.” Becca smiled, though Clara could see the uncertainty around the corners of her mouth. “If only I could be sure we’re really witches.”
“You’re not?” The redhead’s eyes went wide in surprise. “I thought you, of all people…”
“Well, I’m hoping.” A faraway look came over Becca. “You know, I did some research on my own family, and it does look like there was at least one wise woman—a ‘wyrd sister’—in my family tree, back in the 1760s. In fact—”
“Well, don’t tell Eric that when you speak to him!” Kathy interrupted.
“Eric?”
The brassy curls bounced as she nodded. “Eric Marshfield, my supervisor. They’re looking for someone to handle data entry. They want to modernize the system, make it so you can see comparables. I think that’s not your thing exactly, but the company’s growing…”
“I’ll call him tomorrow.” Becca grabbed a pad and began making notes. “I can do systems, and, frankly, I need a job. Thanks, Kathy. After all that’s happened…”
“I know.” Kathy tried the wine again, with only a small wince this time. “It’s just unbelievable, isn’t it?”
Becca swallowed, going slightly green. Clara made a mental note to knock the wine bottle over if she got the chance. “Yeah.”
“You didn’t hear what the trouble was with her and Ande, did you?” Kathy seemed not to notice Becca’s discomfort. Then again, she’d finished her own glass.
“No.” Becca shook her head. “Suzanne said she wanted to talk to me about something, but I never got to hear about what.”
“Trent gave us all a ride, and there was definitely something going on with those two. Larissa noticed it too. You know,” Kathy leaned close. Clara’s ears pricked up. Laurel might be right about the desire to bond. That didn’t mean the calico wanted to miss out on anything. “I hear they were both into the same guy. I wonder if the police know about that.”
“The same—” Becca recoiled, her eyes as wide as saucers. “Ande was seeing Jeff too?”
“Who’s Jeff?” Kathy tipped her head to the side. “I’m talking about Trent.”
Chapter 16
“I knew that man was up to no good.” It was all Clara could do to keep from spitting.
Laurel stared at her sister with her blue eyes wide, the feline equivalent of raised brows. “Really, Clara?” Her normal mew sank to a near purr as her whiskers perked up—more a result, Clara had to believe, of her being right than in glee over Becca’s disappointment. “You are such a kitten.”
“But you were the one who suspected him…” Clara closed her eyes, thinking of the ruined bouquet. Laurel always did try to misdirect attention from her appetites.
When she opened them, her sister was still there. As was that Kathy. Though, to do the shorter woman credit, she looked just as upset as Becca.
“You didn’t know?” Her mouth made an O of concern.
“Someone may have suggested…a while ago.” Becca shook off the exaggerated response. “But I’d heard that Suzanne was seeing my ex, Jeff.”
“Oh.” Kathy sat back and seemed to take that in, her round face growing serious. “I’m sorry. I don’t know anything about that.”
“But you’re sure about Suzanne—and about Ande?”
A shrug. “No, I’m not sure sure. Not really. But that’s what I heard.”
“Where’d you hear it?” Clara tilted her ears forward. This seemed a legitimate question to her, the kind an inquisitive cat would pose.
“I don’t really remember.” Kathy looked at her wine glass, but then seemed to think better of it. “Maybe from Larissa? Anyway, it probably doesn’t mean anything—Trent’s, well, you know.” A shy smile brought out her freckles. “He’s Trent. Anyway, I should get going. Get in touch with Eric, though, and let me know what happens, okay?”
Becca walked her guest to the door in a daze and stood, her forehead leaning on the doorframe, for several minutes after she left. Clara circled her ankles in solidarity and allowed the young woman to heft her to her shoulder.
“How undignified!” The calico looked down to see Laurel staring up at her.
Harriet joined her seal-point sister a moment later. “Does this mean we’ll get treats?” she asked, before Laurel swatted her, and she plodded off. Becca, meanwhile, had collapsed back on the sofa, her lids closing in exhaustion.
“I need to talk to Ande. If only I could just summon her.” Becca was talking to herself; Clara knew that. Still, she glared down at her sister in alarm. Had Laurel suggested this stupid idea somehow?
But the slim feline flicked her tail and turned away dismissively. She didn’t have to be psychic to read the angle of Clara’s ears, but, clearly, she was having none of it. Clara didn’t think either of her sisters could actually implant a totally new thought in a person’s mind, only suggest a direction. Then again, she was the youngest and not at all sure of just how much power they each had. As it was, Becca had let her smallest cat slide to her lap, and with a deep sigh, reached for her phone. “I should just call her,” she said, her voice flat with fatigue. “Tomorrow.” She put the phone down. Just then, a yowl sounded. Harriet—from the kitchen.
That roused Becca as nothing else could, and Clara jumped to the floor. Laurel was already on her way to see what their oldest sister was up to.
“I’m hungry!” Harriet complained once her audience had assembled, her yellow eyes wide with pleading. Of course, her request sounded like a plaintive mew to Becca, but because the chubby creamsicle of a cat was standing by her empty dish, it wasn’t hard to figure out her meaning.
“Oh, kitty! I’m sorry.” Becca reached for the cabinet where she kept the cans. “It is your dinner time, isn’t it? Only—” She paused, and it hit Clara: she knew why Harriet had disappeared moments before.
“You didn’t!” She hissed. Partly out of surprise. Harriet never let anything get in the way of her creature comforts. “But why?”
“Yow.” It was a non-answer as she turned her round eyes on her youngest sibling, her whiskers spreading into a supremely self-satisfied smirk.
“I could’ve sworn I had…” Becca paused, staring at the empty shelf and shaking her h
ead. Seeing her dismay and evident fatigue, Clara concentrated, trying hard to will the young woman to keep looking. The little calico knew that while her sister could summon items out of the ether, it was harder to send them back. Besides, odds were that those cans had simply been moved to another shelf. Clara couldn’t imagine Harriet would ever really risk having no food in the house.
But any feline’s magical power has its limits, and Clara lacked Laurel’s particular ease with human thoughts. And so instead of doing a thorough search for those missing cans, within a minute Becca was cursing her own carelessness and muttering promises to her pets that she would return soon—with provisions.
“I wouldn’t let my girls starve!” She sounded so earnest it hurt Clara to hear her. “I know you depend on me.”
Harriet’s low, self-congratulatory “thrrup” was the only response. Clara didn’t even make eye contact with her sisters as she followed their person out the door. She knew they were up to something, but it was more important to the compact calico that she watch out for Becca than she grill her siblings. Besides, being the youngest as well as the smallest, she didn’t have much leverage. She wasn’t a tail biter like Laurel. And the one time Clara had tried to actually push Harriet, as opposed to reasoning with her, her big sister had responded by sitting on her. Her whiskers weren’t right for months.
Taking advantage of the deepening dusk, the little calico was virtually invisible even without a masking, her stripes and splotches blending in with the shadows as the after-work crowd filled the sidewalks. And as Becca made her way to the local grocery, Clara began to wonder if she’d made the wrong choice. Maybe Laurel and Harriet had merely wanted to get her out of the apartment. It didn’t take much to imagine what they might be up to, back there alone, and she was just about to turn around when Becca stopped short.
“Ande!” Clara looked up to see a tall, slim figure about to enter the store. The woman paused on hearing her name, and Clara could hear Becca whisper to herself: “Did I summon her?”
“Becca, blessed be.” The dark-haired woman managed a smile as she walked back toward her coven mate. But it was a weak one and didn’t touch her eyes. “What’s up? You headed to the Superette?”
Before their person could answer, Clara turned with a hiss. “Harriet!” Only instead of her fluffy sister, she saw a pair of almond-shaped blue eyes. “Laurel?” Clara corrected herself as the other cat took shape. “Don’t you see that Becca is going to think she made Ande appear? You knew she wanted to question her. How could you?”
“I was curious,” her sister purred. “Weren’t you?”
“No!” Clara stopped. “Well, yes, but…” It was too late. First, Laurel’s brown ears and tail faded into the shadows, and then her tan torso, until finally she closed those mischievous blue eyes and disappeared entirely.
Clara still sensed her sister’s presence and knew she’d be lurking somewhere, listening. But the youngest cat was in damage-control mode now. Drawing closer, she focused on the conversation between the two young women.
“I know, it’s just so horrible. I can’t imagine…” Ande spoke softly as the stream of post-work shoppers flowed past them. As she did, she shook her head, as if she could rid her mind of the last few days.
“You don’t want to.” Becca’s voice was somber, and Clara had to fight the urge to go to her. As much as the little cat wanted to comfort her person, she knew that materializing in front of the Superette would not have the desired effect.
“Ugh.” Ande put her hand over her mouth, as if she could block the image. “That’s right. Are you okay?”
Becca shrugged, staring off into space as if she were a cat or simply done with the conversation. And then, just as Clara had begun to hope that maybe this would be it—that her friend’s sympathy would stir in Becca a desire to talk about anything but the events of the previous Saturday—Becca took a deep breath and turned to face her elegant friend.
“In fact, I was wondering.” Becca was holding her voice steady, but Clara could hear the tension vibrating within her. “I gather you and Suzanne were chatting about something—after the coven meeting?”
“Oh, it wasn’t important.” Another wave, as if the question were a pesky fly. “Not in light of what’s happened.”
Becca’s voice dropped. “Ande, are you dating Trent?”
The other woman flushed, a deep red infusing her caramel-colored cheeks, and her long, dark lashes sank to shield her eyes. “I went out with him a few times. But I wouldn’t say we’re dating.”
“So that wasn’t what you wanted to talk to Suzanne about? I remember you calling to her—that she’d ‘promised’ you something?” Becca’s voice was gentle, but there was something in her expression that her cat recognized. It was the look she got when she was hunting down an elusive reference—as intense as what Clara had seen on Laurel’s face that one time a mouse had gotten into the apartment.
Ande didn’t take refuge under a nearby refrigerator, however, or even duck inside the store. Instead, she stood straighter, emphasizing the good six inches she had on Becca. She had an imposing presence anyway, and as she squared her shoulders, two separate shoppers held their grocery bags closer as they made their way around her.
“What? No.” She dismissed the question before launching her own. “Is that what Larissa is saying?”
“I—never mind.” Becca tended to look down when she was embarrassed, and she began to stare at the sidewalk, as if unsure whether the gathering dusk would soon obscure whatever she found so fascinating there. “I just…”
“You can’t think I…over a man…” Ande’s face froze in horror as the implication of Becca’s question hit home. “No, he and I—it was never serious. In fact—”
She stopped so short, Clara peered around to see if either of her siblings had grabbed her tongue.
“In fact?” Becca dared a glance up, as curious as a cat waiting to hear what the taller woman was about to say.
“In fact, Suzanne and I were kind of working on something together.”
Becca nodded, waiting for the other woman to continue.
“Okay, this is going to sound crazy.” Ande crossed her arms and leaned in. “You know I’m an accountant, right?”
Becca’s curls bobbed as she nodded.
“Well, the coven actually has a bank account. Silly, I know, but that’s how Larissa set it up, back when we started, for our monthly tithing and anything else that came up. And a few weeks ago, she asked me look into something. I think she got whacked on taxes this year. Anyway, she wanted to know if we could apply for nonprofit status.” Ande rolled her eyes. “I mean, she has a point. We probably should come under the religious exemption, as practicing Wiccans, but that requires a whole lot of paperwork that I’m not sure we want to get into—or that I want to do gratis.” A wave of one of those elegant hands, as if she were summoning the seafood department to come out to greet her.
“But anyway, when I was looking at the statements, it was pretty obvious that some money has gone missing. We don’t have a lot, but it’s added up over the years, and even with Larissa’s carelessness—her bookkeeping is positively reckless—we’re down a couple of thousand dollars.”
Becca didn’t say anything. She didn’t have to. Even in the fading light, her confusion showed on her face.
“Crazy, right?” Ande chuckled. “When Larissa started it, I think it was more like a personal account—a way for her to put some money aside. She provided the seed money for expenses—you know, the fliers and the tea. And, well, she has the bucks, so why not? But the balance is definitely not what it should be, especially since we’ve all been ponying up our five bucks a month. Though it could just be that awful tea is more expensive than any of us knew.”
Becca’s lips twitched with the hint of a smile. “The witches’ tea?”
“Awful,” Ande repeated. “But anyway, I told
Larissa that it would be really complicated to apply for a change in our status and that if she wanted to pursue it, I was going to have to find out what was going on with the accounting, you know? Larissa told me to forget about it. Said it didn’t matter, she’d make up the difference, and went on about how the cohesion of the coven was what really mattered. Our trust is our power, and all that. She’s got more money than the queen, so I’m fine with that. It was Suzanne who wanted to pursue it.”
“How’d she know about it?”
Ande had the grace to look sheepish. “I might have mentioned it when we were all getting our coats a week or two ago. She said she’d found something—and that she thought more of us should know—and promised to tell me. Only I never got to find out what it was. I thought she’d tell me on the ride home, but no luck.”
“And you didn’t follow up?”
A sad smile as she shook her head. “Frankly, I didn’t think it was a big deal, though it seemed to matter to Suzanne. I mean, we’re kind of Larissa’s pet project, and so if she didn’t care about making up the difference, why should I, right?”
“I guess.” Becca sighed. “I wasn’t aware of any of this.”
“Well, you’ve been dealing with your own stuff.” Ande’s voice was gentle. “We all know about the breakup and your job…” She didn’t have to say more. Becca’s eyes had already begun to fill again.
She blinked back the tears as Ande kept talking.
“Besides, it probably wasn’t anything,” she was saying. “Larissa thought Suzanne was just being paranoid. She’d taken to calling her ‘zany Zane,’ like she had gone utterly nuts. I thought that was a bit harsh. Honestly, it made me wonder if maybe Larissa had it in for poor Suzanne.”
As soon as the words were out of Ande’s mouth, she tried to backtrack.
“I don’t mean it like that,” she said, waving her hands again, as if she could clear the air. “Larissa wouldn’t. She’s not a killer. But she is a drama queen, and I thought maybe she was embarrassed that I saw how sloppy her bookkeeping was—or even that she was enjoying, well, pitting us against each other.”