A Spell of Murder

by Clea Simon

  “No, that’s ridiculous.” The tall accountant had the temerity to smile. “You’re…you’re so nice.”

  “Thanks, I guess.” Becca wasn’t having it. “But Suzanne was seeing my ex, and they’ve heard that someone was stalking her, so…”

  “Okay.” Ande raised her hands, signaling her to stop. “I’ll talk to the cops, I promise. I just really don’t think I have anything to contribute.”

  “Thanks.” Becca turned to go when another thought stopped her in her tracks. “There’s not any reason you wouldn’t want to go to the cops, is there?”

  “Me?” Ande smiled, her dark brows rising in mock surprise. “You mean, because I’m black?”

  “I wasn’t…” Becca struggled, a bit flustered. “I just think there are too many secrets. Like, what’s going on with you and Marcia?”

  “Me and Marcia?” Maybe it was the dimming light, but Ande appeared genuinely confused.

  “You two are hiding something.” The conversation in the kitchen. The shared glances. Becca was sure of it.

  Ande didn’t argue. “It’s—look, I can’t tell you. It’s not my secret to share. But yeah, Marcia has taken me into her confidence about something—and no, it’s not about Suzanne—”

  “Ande, where were you last Saturday?” The question burst out of nowhere. Ande’s response—a startled laugh—surprised Becca even more.

  “Saturday? I was with Marcia. She and Luz had me over for lunch. We were probably talking—even as…dear goddess, there was no way to know.”

  “No, of course not,” said Becca. “So Luz was there too?” She hated herself for asking.

  The taller woman tried a smile, but it didn’t reach the sadness in her eyes. “Yeah.” She nodded. “Yeah, if you need confirmation. She was there.”

  “Hey, you two.” Kathy stood on the top of the bank. “What’s up?”

  “Just thinking.” Ande turned for one more look at the river, where the orange was spreading over the blue. “Remembering.”

  Becca nodded. “Isn’t that what we’re here to do?”

  “Well, yeah.” Kathy turned back toward the main gathering.

  With a sigh, Ande began to climb the bank, her voice sinking to a conspiratorial level. “Though I think Larissa has something a lot fancier in mind.”

  Becca reached out to give the other woman a hand up. “I’m sure—and shouldn’t we get started soon?”

  “You’re right.” Ande looked back once more at the calico reflections. “The sun is beginning to set.”

  ***

  She was right. Already the light was changing, splashing the pale blue sky with orange and pink. For Clara, the increasing darkness was a blessing. Out here in the wild, she tended to be more cautious. A domestic cat could get in trouble, and besides, she didn’t want to give her person a scare. But although the tall weeds by the water’s edge stopped far short of the path, the play of shadows had given her an increased freedom, and even as her person returned to the cropped grass, the shaded feline lingered close to Becca’s feet. Close enough to pick up a tension that had not been alleviated by Ande’s capitulation—or her alibi.

  “Finally!” Larissa’s growl would have done Harriet proud.

  “Shouldn’t we wait for Trent?” Kathy looked around as the two joined the main party. “I mean, he is our leader.”

  Larissa, raven brows lowered, shot her a look that by rights should have pushed her into the river. Only the sight of the bearded warlock, jogging down the path, stopped her rebuttal. “There he is, the little scamp,” she said.

  “Sorry—ah, merry meet.” Breathing heavily, he forced a smile. Becca, Clara could see, was eying him carefully as the coven gathered and joined hands.

  So was Larissa, who scowled as his hand went up reflexively to his open collar. “You’re not wearing your amulet,” she said, forgoing the usual greeting.

  “No.” His long fingers played over the dark curls as if feeling for the missing piece. “I—the chain broke, and I have to get it fixed.”

  “Ah.” Larissa sniffed, and for a moment Clara wondered if she could smell the blood that Harriet’s claws had drawn. “You should be careful with a piece like that.” The smile was back, only a slight rebuke in her voice. “It has power, you know.”

  “I know.” His smile wasn’t quite as wide as usual, but before Clara could approach and attempt to sniff out anything about the man, Ande and Marcia had joined hands. For a moment, Becca seemed about to address them—the question in her eyes—but instead she turned toward Trent, and Clara had the distinct impression that she was going to apologize, yet again, for Harriet’s indiscretion. Only then Kathy reached for her hand and drew Becca in, linking her to Larissa and the others. Trent completed the circle, joining Becca and Ande, and Larissa began to speak.

  “We are here today to celebrate our sister, Suzanne.” She looked around, her gaze taking in each of them in turn. “To remember her magic, and to return her to the stars.”

  “Oh, brother.” Kathy’s whisper was audible to all.

  “She was our sister in the mysteries we share.” Even as she kept talking, Larissa silenced the coven pet with a glare. “Mysteries that evoke the mysterious secrets we all share.” Becca, conscious of her status as the newest member of the group and suddenly very conscious of Larissa’s eagle eyes, held stock still as the older woman droned on. Beside her, Kathy struggled to contain her giggle.

  “And as we watch the sun descend, so too we bid farewell to this stage of our sister’s being.” With the last of the light, Larissa seemed finally to be winding up. “Farewell, Suzanne,” she intoned in a voice that must have carried to the water’s edge and beyond. “Farewell!”

  “Thank the goddess.” Ande’s exhalation was audible, even if its meaning was open to interpretation. And as Larissa turned toward her, she girded for the rebuke. “I mean, goddess be praised,” the other woman said.

  “Goddess be praised.” Becca echoed the sentiment as the circle broke its bonds.

  “What was that about?” Marcia sidled up to Becca as Trent wrestled with the bottle of cider Larissa had brought, her attention on the flamboyant pair. “I thought this was supposed to be focused on Suzanne.”

  Becca couldn’t bring herself to disagree. “I’m beginning to realize I never really knew her.”

  Marcia’s large, dark eyes peered up at her as she once more donned her cap.

  “She wanted to talk to me about something,” Becca explained. “That last meeting. I never found out what it was.”

  “Oh, I know.” A surprising smile. “She wanted to do a casting out.”

  Becca’s jaw dropped in confusion.

  “Because of your summoning spell. You know,” Marcia explained. “She was hoping you could help her.”

  “In her personal life?” Becca couldn’t help thinking of Jeff. Casting out spells were to rid oneself of negative influences—or people.

  “You mean, like she had mice in her apartment?” Marcia was in an exceedingly jolly mood despite the occasion.

  It was contagious, and Becca found herself chuckling at the idea. “If that were the case, she wouldn’t need a witch. She could have borrowed my cats.” That was so close to an oxymoron that Clara’s tail twitched.

  “No, I don’t think so.” Marcia leaned in again, her voice growing soft. “I think she was talking about the coven. Something—or someone—who wasn’t, well, right.”

  “Trent!” Larissa’s shrill command cut through the growing dark, and Marcia rolled her eyes.

  “I can think of a couple of candidates,” she whispered.

  “A couple?” As soon as the words were out, Becca regretted them. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…”

  “No, it’s fine.” Marcia dismissed her slight cattiness. “I wasn’t just thinking of our queen bee. I mean, look at Trent. Doesn’t he seem to think h
e’s our end-all and be-all?” Becca didn’t get a chance to respond. “Really, what does he contribute?”

  Clara watched as her person mulled over the possibilities. “He does have a certain charm,” she murmured, earning another dramatic roll of Marcia’s large, dark eyes. “I mean, who else?”

  Even as she voiced the question, the answer hit her. Larissa might be overbearing and Trent a flirt. But it was Ande who had first told her about the coven’s financial irregularities and that Suzanne had been concerned. Becca wanted to trust her coven mate’s grudging promise that she would talk to the police. That didn’t mean she couldn’t check up on the alibi she’d given her.

  “Marcia, Ande said she was with you last Saturday, when—” Becca broke off, unable to finish.

  “Yeah.” The other woman sounded thoughtful, but a trace of a smile lit her face.

  Becca paused, taken aback, and then forced herself to go on. “Was Luz with you too?” She winced as she asked the corroborative question, but in the fading light her pained expression was invisible to all but her cat.

  “Well, yeah.” Marcia chortled. “You can ask her.”

  “Ask Luz?” Becca turned, confused, only to see Ande approaching.

  “I don’t think that was canon.” The taller witch joined them, in the guise of handing out the paper cups.

  “It most certainly wasn’t,” agreed Marcia. “We were supposed to do a regular circle, invoking the elements, and then toast Suzanne after.”

  “Hey, guys.” Kathy approached, jug of cider in hand.

  As she filled their cups, Becca took the opportunity to ask, “Did you think that was odd?”

  “What, that?” Kathy turned to look at Larissa, who seemed to be deep in discussion with Trent. “Someone likes to be center stage is all.”

  “Maybe.” Ande and Marcia exchanged looks.

  “That’s right.” Becca nodded. “Weren’t you saying there was something off—”

  “Ande!” Larissa called. “Do you have those cups?”

  “Don’t mind her.” Kathy took Becca’s arm, turning her away. “She’s a bit—I don’t know—she gets paranoid.”

  “Larissa?” Becca gently detached herself from the younger woman’s grasp.

  “No, Ande.” Even as Kathy lowered her voice, she gave the name her usual dramatic emphasis. “She can be a little obsessive.” Her voice sank to be quieter still. “I heard what she was saying, but I’m not sure I would believe it. I mean, accusing someone of embezzling? In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if the police were looking at her, you know.”

  Becca only paused a moment before responding. “No, she and Marcia were together that afternoon.”

  The redhead’s eyebrows registered her surprise. “Really? Was Luz there too?”

  “I…I think so, but I’m not sure.” Becca looked around as if searching for more confirmation, but Kathy was already reaching for her arm once more.

  “Come on.” She led her away so quickly that Clara had to scurry to avoid being kicked. “Let’s get some of those cookies before they’re all gone.” She had a point. Marcia was already on her third. A gingerbread spice mix, Clara could tell, as she raised her black leather nose to the air. And even though Trent appeared more interested in the cider, Larissa was pushing a paper plate of the cookies toward him as the other women arrived.

  “May I?” Kathy reached over to nab one. “Thanks.”

  Becca, Clara observed, had hung back once Kathy had released her arm, and now sidled over to Trent.

  “I’m sorry about your amulet.” She kept her voice low and dipped her head. It wouldn’t do to be caught staring at the warlock’s chest. “And about Harriet.”

  “Harriet?” His voice rose, puzzled.

  “My cat.” Even in the growing dark, Clara could see that Becca was blushing, and that her own awareness of her rising color only made the flush worse. “The orange and white one.”

  “Oh.” One hand went to his chest again, and Becca turned away. Clara wished she could tell the shy, sweet girl that her pink cheeks were barely visible to the other humans.

  Trent must have sensed something, though, because as Becca moved away, he reached for her, and as if the warmth of his chest was carried through his fingers, she became redder still. “She doesn’t usually do things like that,” she said. And just for a moment, Clara had to wonder if her person was really talking about her sister cat.

  “It was no big deal.” Trent’s voice was low too, almost as if he were sharing a secret. “It was just the chain for my—that thing.”

  “Your amulet?” Becca chirped in what Clara thought of as her helpful voice, even as Trent’s mouth tightened in dismissal.

  “And what are you two up to?” Larissa shoved the plate of cookies between them before he could respond.

  “Nothing much.” Becca took a cookie. “Thanks.”

  “Keeping yourself busy?” One dark brow arched in emphasis. The question appeared to be directed to Becca, but even as she spoke, the older woman turned to stare at Trent.

  “I’m basically focusing on my research,” Becca offered when it became clear that the man at her side would remain silent. When Larissa’s brow rose further, she explained. “I’m kind of an amateur genealogist. I mean, I might as well use my research skills for something.” More silence, and Becca couldn’t avoid the awful suspicion that she was being judged. Something about those dark eyes and the raven-wing black of those brows. “And I’m looking for work still, of course.” Still nothing, and so she ventured on. “I called Graham today.”

  The other woman blinked at that, so slowly that Clara almost thought she was a cat. “Your friend?” Becca offered.

  “My mentor,” Larissa corrected her with a nod. “Of course. I’m so glad, dear. I’m sure he’ll look after you.”

  “I hope so.” Becca sounded a little anxious. “He agreed to see me, but I’d hate to think that this was just because Suzanne—”

  “Nonsense.” Now it was the older woman who was patting her arm, her lacquered nails nearly black in the fading light. “I’ll talk to him. I’ll make sure he knows how special you are.”

  Becca swallowed so hard that Clara looked up in alarm. Humans didn’t have hair balls. She knew that, but the young woman before her was patently unnerved. Her older colleague didn’t seem to notice, however. In fact, she’d moved on to Trent and was leading him down toward the water.

  “What was that?” Kathy again, her mouth full of cookie.

  “Oh, I followed up with that job lead Larissa was telling me about.” Becca’s gaze followed the older woman as she walked away. “Only, well, I’m wondering if it’s a good idea. I’m not sure—” She stopped abruptly, and Clara’s ears perked up, the black sensor hairs inside tingling. “I’m not sure what kind of reference she’ll give me.”

  “I get it.” Kathy finished the cookie and wiped her mouth on the back of her hand, while Clara studied her human. Becca had changed her mind about what she’d been about to say, and her pet wanted to know why. But Kathy didn’t seem to notice. Leaning in, she dropped her usually brassy voice down into a conspiratorial hush. “Larissa uses her purse strings to control everyone, and you don’t want to just step into Suzanne’s shoes. I mean, talk about bad luck! Hey, why don’t you call my boss instead?”

  “Oh, I’m sorry.” Becca turned, as if seeing the other woman for the first time. “I meant to tell you. I did reach out—Eric Marshfield, right? He said he’s not looking for anyone now.”

  “Oh, gee, that’s my fault!” Kathy shook her girlish curls. “I’m so sorry. I meant to speak with him, first. He doesn’t know it yet, but one of the girls I work with is about to give notice—”

  “I don’t know.” Becca cut her off.

  “No, really.” Kathy’s smile wrinkled her freckled nose. “Eric needs someone. I’ll clear it up and get back to you.” />
  “Thanks.” Becca managed a smile. It was nearly full dark by then, and the party had begun to break up. “Do you think we should clean up?”

  “Well, the cookies are gone.” Kathy seemed to lose interest, but she tagged after Becca as she collected paper plates and napkins into the bag that had transported the cider.

  “Thanks, dear.” Larissa took the trash from her, folding the bag top over as she drew it close. “Would you like a ride home?” Marcia, Kathy, and Trent had already lined up behind her.

  “No, thanks. I’ll walk.” Becca turned around as if to seek a companion or, perhaps, Clara realized, to continue a discussion. But Ande was already gone.

  Chapter 27

  Clara woke the next morning with a start. “Something’s burning!” She mewed over to Harriet, who was still sacked out beside her, and went in search of Laurel and Becca.

  “North, south, east…” She found Becca in the living room, waving around a bundle of smoldering twigs. “No, wait, that’s west.”

  Laurel was observing from a safe distance, under the dining room table.

  “What’s going on?” Clara asked her sister.

  A flick of the tail. “Some spell she looked up to get rid of negativity.” The seal point turned and, leaving the room, whined in pure Siamese fashion. “More like she wants to get rid of us. That stinks.”

  Any further complaint was cut off by a metallic shriek that sent Becca scrambling. After quickly dousing the sage bundle in the sink, she clambered onto a chair to silence the alarm and then opened the apartment’s front window.

  The noise woke Harriet, who joined Clara and Laurel as their person wandered around the living room, fanning the air with a newspaper. “It’s not right, waking us like that and then not feeding us,” the sleepy marmalade grumbled with a yawn

  “She will,” Clara reassured her. “She always does.”

  “Wake me when she does.” Harriet settled in for a nap as Becca, a bit more tousled than usual, began her morning toilette. After watching her oldest sister curl up on the sofa, Clara found Laurel in the bedroom, where Becca was dressing.

  It had taken Clara a few moments to understand what her sister was up to, those blue eyes focused so intently as their person rifled through her closet. Only after she’d taken out a halter-top sundress did Clara turn on Laurel with a hiss.