A Spell of Murder

by Clea Simon

  “Hang on!” Becca called out. The clerk was in the process of lifting the journal off her desk. “I’m sorry. My friend wanted to talk with me.”

  “I’m sorry as well.” The blue-haired woman put the journal back down with care. “I hope I didn’t lose your place. Too many patrons don’t bother to bring the materials back, you see.”

  “No, it’s fine.” Becca glanced down at the open book. “I’m almost done, anyway. There’s just one thing in here I don’t understand.”

  Cat-shaped glasses tipped, waiting. “Maybe I’m reading this wrong,” said Becca. “But this lists the residents of this house as Mistress Rebecca Horne, widow, and Mistress Greybar. I’d come to believe that Mistress Greybar was Rebecca Horne’s cat.”

  The eyes behind those glasses stared back. “And?”

  “Well, doesn’t it seem odd to you that her cat is given the same standing as her owner?”

  “I don’t know what to tell you.” The blue-haired woman sniffed. “I’d read that as this Mistress Greybar being a member of the family. I can tell you that our records have not been altered in any way. Though perhaps there was an error. Your friend…” She shook her head.

  “I’m sorry.” Becca’s voice softened. “She can be a bit imperious. Did she think you—or your office—had done something wrong?”

  “Not really.” Another shake. “I shouldn’t be discussing other clients’ issues anyway.”

  “I understand.” Becca lowered her voice, but there was a note in it that let Clara know she was hatching a plan. “I’m actually wondering if you can help me with something else—something that might be related. I’m not sure what she told you, but my friend and I both belong to a group, and I believe its financial records might be on file here.”

  “If you’re incorporated here in the city, or have applied for a license, they are.” If Becca had hoped the bespectacled clerk would reveal Larissa’s request, she was to be disappointed. However, before she could come up with another query, the clerk retreated to the desk and so Becca followed. “What name is your organization incorporated under?”

  “Oh.” Becca stared down, as if the answer would appear on the counter before her. “I don’t know if we’re incorporated.”

  “Do you hold a license? Pay municipal taxes?”

  “No.” Becca drew the word out while she thought. “I know, why don’t you look up licenses under the name of our founder, Larissa Fox.”

  “Would you write that down?”

  Becca filled out the proffered form and returned it to the clerk, who took it back to her files, tut-tutting as she walked. While she waited, Becca stared at the door. Questions about Larissa were palpably weighing on her. But before she could do anything about them, the cat-eye glasses were staring back at her.

  “Are you confident about these names?”

  “Yes, though not the spelling—”

  The clerk cut her off. “I tried alternative spellings, including double X and a PH for Fox. It didn’t change anything. I don’t have any records of ownership or licenses in this city for anyone named Larissa Fox.”

  Chapter 32

  “Maddy, it’s the strangest thing.” Becca reached her friend as she made her way home. “I wouldn’t have even thought of asking, only Larissa was going on about Ande, like she’d done something wrong, and then I remembered that Ande was the reason that Suzanne was asking about the coven’s money. She said we were down a few thousand dollars, and—”

  “Becca, do you hear yourself?” Maddy’s patience was running thin. “Bad enough you’re in this crazy group, now you’re getting involved in its finances?”

  “But that’s just it.” Becca had been mulling this over. “This might be why Suzanne was killed. After all, if Suzanne thought that somebody was embezzling—”

  “Becca! Stop it! This is a police matter, okay?” When Maddy yelled, her voice was audible even to the people on the street. “Leave it to them, please.”

  “But the police don’t really understand about the coven.” Becca had to make Maddy understand. “They’re not going to know how we all relate to each other, and they wouldn’t have heard about the funds going missing.”

  “Didn’t you say this Ande was going to tell them?”

  Becca bit back her retort. “She promised to, but she didn’t seem to think it was a big deal.”

  “Okay, then you’ve got to tell them—” Maddy stopped herself.

  “You just said that I should stay out of it.” Becca was nothing if not reasonable.

  “No, you’re right.” Maddy was obviously making plans. “I’m sorry I even said anything. You’ve got to stay as far away from this as you can. I’m sorry you’re even still talking to anyone in that coven of yours. Besides, like you said, if this Ande was the whistleblower and even she didn’t think it was a big deal, then it wasn’t, I’m sure.”

  “But Larissa was definitely hiding something,” Becca said, as much to herself as her friend. “She didn’t want me to hear what she was looking for in the records. She tried to hustle me out of there.”

  “She’s a weird old lady, from what you’ve told me.” Maddy wasn’t giving up. “She was probably just hoping to find out she had a witch in her background too.”

  “Maybe.” Becca had to agree. “She did go on a bit about her heritage. Though between you and me, I think Fox might be a made-up name.”

  The burst of laughter made her draw back from the phone. “You think?” Clara could picture Becca’s friend wiping away the tears. “Hey, kiddo, I think I may have found out something about the other candidate for the Reynolds job.”

  “Yeah?” Becca’s cheer suddenly dissipated. “Let me guess, he’s got a master’s.”

  “No, but he seems to be very chummy with Reynolds. The old buzzard walked him out, and I heard him say something about ‘your mother.’ Friend of the family, I’m guessing.”

  “Great.” Clara didn’t really understand sarcasm. Cats don’t need it. But even she could tell that Becca’s response didn’t reflect her true feelings. “Well, without an advanced degree, I was a long shot for that position anyway.”

  “I’m sorry. I’d have loved to have you here. Even though this Nathan is kinda dishy.”

  “Wait—Nathan?” Becca stopped cold, earning a nasty look from a passing shopper

  “Yeah, didn’t I tell you? He breezed right past Ms. White, so I asked. His name’s Nathan Raposa.”

  * * *

  Maddy hadn’t managed to calm her friend down by the time Becca got home. But Clara was grateful for the other girl’s attempts.

  “I’ll come by as soon as I’m sprung,” Maddy had said, signing off. “I’ll bring wine—and chocolate.”

  Clara didn’t have a chance to warn her sisters, as Becca clomped into the house in a mixture of anger and despair.

  “I can’t even…” was all she said as the three cats circled in wordless sympathy. Clara had, by then, unmasked herself to join the throng. “And now, you!” This, alas, was to Harriet, who hadn’t moved quite quickly enough and nearly tripped their person.

  “Harriet!” Clara head butted her older sister out of the way. “Watch it! Becca’s had a bad shock.”

  “Becca? What about me?” Harriet sat and began to groom, but at least this time Becca saw her and managed to step around her. “Clearly nobody cares about me or what I want.”

  “Quit grumbling.” Laurel rubbed against Becca’s shins and, as their person stopped to reach down and stroke her silky fur, took in her scent with a black leather nose. “Interesting,” said the Siamese. “Jeff, and—what’s this?—I’m getting a whiff of patchouli, or is that pine?”

  Clara looked on in dismay, unsure what to do. She’d already lost her chance at the best place next to Becca on the sofa. A soft grunt announced that Harriet had once again taken over that middle cushion, and she now survey
ed her sisters as if challenging them to try to unseat her.

  “Don’t you dare…” A low growl underlined that stare. “Mine.”

  “Fine.” Clara settled on the rug as Becca made her way to the sofa.

  “Oh, kitties.” Becca sat with an exasperated sigh. “You don’t know the half of it.”

  “If the clown here would tell us, we would.” Laurel sidled up to her sister.

  “I will, I promise.” Clara kept her voice low. It would do her person good to sleep. A nap, as all cats know, is always a sensible option.

  But before Becca could drift off into a healing slumber, the doorbell rang and she sat up with a jerk. “Maddy!” At least she was smiling as she approached the door, although when she opened it, that smile disappeared. “Kathy?”

  “Hi, am I disturbing you?” The perky redhead beamed up at her. “I’d been meaning to give you a call about Eric. I know you said he blew you off, but, believe me, he’s going to be looking for someone soon—if he isn’t already—and so I thought I’d drop by.”

  “Oh, thanks.” Becca sounded more confused than grateful, but she stood aside to invite the other woman in. “Did you just get off work?”

  “I was in the area.” That eager smile. “Anyway, about the job. We’re short now, even if Eric’s too cheap to admit it. I know Larissa’s friend is looking for someone too. But you didn’t sound too keen about that, and since I know one of the other girls I work with is going to give notice at the end of the week…well, my boss will definitely need someone, and we’re almost like family.”

  Walking into the living room as she rambled on, Kathy eyed Harriet and then took Becca’s place on the sofa. Wisely, she didn’t reach for Harriet’s pillow.

  “So, have you talked to Trent much?” Settling in, she leaned back to address her hostess. “I mean, since the whole thing with Suzanne?”

  “What? No.” Becca passed behind her into the kitchen. “I still have trouble believing it—and I, well, I was there.”

  Kathy fell uncharacteristically silent, her round face drawn with concern.

  “I’m sorry.” Becca leaned back into the room “Would you like something to drink? I still have some of that wine.”

  “Oh, no, thanks.” Kathy managed a smile again. “I’d take a Diet Coke, if you have it?”

  “Coming up.” As Becca fussed in the kitchen, Kathy looked around. Harriet threw a protective paw over her pillow. The other, Clara noticed, stayed on the edge of the cushion. A nasty premonition began to make the fur rise along her back.

  “Harriet...”

  “I’m sorry, you were asking—were you close to Suzanne?” Becca returned with their drinks. “I gather she and Ande were into something together.”

  “I didn’t really keep up with Suzanne, but Ande, I just don’t know.” Kathy took a sip, but her wide brown eyes stayed focused on Becca. “She’s been bad mouthing Trent, you know. No sense of loyalty.”

  “Really?” Becca paused. “I thought they were on good terms.”

  Kathy shook her head. “Not since she made that play for him. I don’t know what she was thinking, but she’s not his type, if you know what I mean. Same thing happened with Marcia, a little while before you joined.”

  “Ah.”

  Maybe it was that wordless exhalation or maybe Kathy saw something on Becca’s face, because hers grew suddenly concerned.

  “Oh, dear! What is it?” She leaned in, her eyes wide with sympathy.

  “Nothing major.” Becca shook her head, eager to stem the younger woman’s gossip. “It’s me,” she said at last. “I had a weird date with someone over the weekend. Another Mr. Wrong.”

  Kathy giggled and sat back, as if waiting for the story. “Tell me about it,” she said. “But really, slandering someone is not the way to go.”

  “I didn’t—” Becca sat up.

  “Not you, silly.” To Becca’s surprise, Kathy stood to go. “I meant Ande. But hey, I’m glad I caught you. You really should send a resume over to Eric. Or—do you want me to?”

  “If you wouldn’t mind. He kind of gave me the cold shoulder. Hang on.” Becca went to get her laptop, nudging the pillow as she rose. In response, Harriet slammed a paw down—but not so fast that Clara didn’t see something glitter.

  Clara’s fur rose further.

  “What’s that, kitty?” Kathy had seen it too, and as Clara looked on in horror, the guest reached over. Harriet, torn between guarding her pillow and the shiny toy, started to growl.

  “No!” Despite the growing danger, Kathy wasn’t addressing the cats. Instead, she was looking at the small, gold object in her hand. A perfect replica of Trent’s amulet.

  “What did you do?” Clara was standing, back arched as she stared at her sister.

  “That’s mine!” Harriet had struggled to her feet. Ignoring her sister, she turned to the invader, her growl growing to a high-pitched whine.

  “Kitties! What’s the—” Becca had returned, laptop in hand. “Kathy, watch—”

  Too late, Harriet had already coiled—an orange and white fury with one goal in sight. Launching herself, she wrapped her paws around Kathy’s hand and sunk her teeth into the soft flesh of her thumb.

  “Ow!” Pulling her hand back, the redhead freed herself with a jerk that sent the amulet flying to the floor. That’s when Clara saw her moment. With one leap, she landed on the gold replica and—hearing the thud as her sister hit the floor beside her—sent it flying.

  “Kathy, are you okay?” Becca was kneeling on the sofa beside her visitor, examining the bite marks on her hand. “It doesn’t look like she drew blood.”

  “I’m fine.” The redhead snapped, pulling her hand back to cradle it against her body.

  “I’m sorry, really.” Becca looked mortified. “Sometimes they fight, but they’ve never…” She broke off. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t sweat it.” Kathy was already rising. “Good luck with that guy you’re seeing.” And with that she was gone.

  “Harriet, Clara, really!” The slamming of the door had frozen both cats in their tracks. Clara looked up at her person in dismay. Harriet was still glaring at her sister. That lucky shot had set the little gold piece skidding under Becca’s big armchair—where the original had ended up after Harriet first grabbed it and where the marmalade was too stout to follow. “What got into you?”

  Clara rose and approached her person carefully. Tail down, in dismay, it was all she could do to gently rub her head against Becca’s outstretched hand. To try to explain about Harriet’s ability—and her selfish decision to recreate the amulet that she had so envied—was beyond her. Even if she could manage the language skills, to let a human in on the powers they all shared was forbidden. Not to mention how hurt Becca would be if she ever found out that it was her plump feline who had managed that original summoning, rather than herself. Becca was just beginning to have faith in herself once more. Even if she could, Clara would do nothing to discourage her now.

  Chapter 33

  By the time Maddy came by, Becca had rallied. Harriet was still upset, of course, and had already boxed Clara’s ears twice. Laurel, perhaps wisely, was staying out of this particular squabble. She sat on top of the bookshelf, observing the proceedings with her cool blue eyes.

  “I think everyone in that coven of yours is crazy.” Instead of cookies, Maddy had brought a bottle of wine, and after pouring them both healthy glasses, she had plopped down on the sofa and listened to Becca’s story once again. “And I’m glad you walked out on this Nathan—that’s definitely the same guy.” She paused to pour herself more. “Do you think he could be Suzanne’s stalker?”

  “I don’t know.” Becca looked into her own nearly full glass as if it held the answer. “He keeps texting me now too.”

  “What does he say?” Maddy sidled up to her friend, as if she expected her to pull the phone o
ut right then.

  “Well, he started off worried about me, asking why I ran off.” Becca raised her glass and twirled it before taking a tentative sip. “Then he asked if he’d done anything wrong.”

  “Anything wrong—like stalking you.” Maddy sat back, set on her conclusion. “I mean, first he calls out of nowhere and asks questions about you, and then he takes what should have been your job.”

  “It wasn’t actually out of nowhere,” Becca began to protest, but her friend cut her off.

  “But you said you didn’t tell him about the coven, and he knew about that, right?”

  “Yeah, but he does know Larissa, so she probably told him.” Becca had had time to think. “Maybe Larissa recommended him for the job too. If he also has a family connection, it makes sense.”

  “Stalker.” Maddy seemed to be relishing this. “And a creep. But I blame that Larissa too. I mean, she said she’d refer you for that job.”

  “Yeah, but…” Becca looked at her friend, as if she weren’t sure if she should continue.

  “Becca?” Sensing something good, Maddy put her drink down.

  “Something someone said—I think Larissa might, you know, keep her boyfriends.”

  “Keep, as in retain?”

  “Not exactly.” Becca lowered her voice, although neither Harriet nor Laurel were listening. “Keep as in pay for. And that first time I ran into Nathan he said he was visiting a relative but …”

  “Ah.” Maddy sat back, resting her wine glass on Harriet’s pillow. Clara, who had been paying attention, thought the plump woman did not appear overly surprised. “And suddenly the handsome painter gets a referral to a cush office job. Though he’s not going to keep that lovely sun-kissed look if he comes to work for us.”

  “But why would Reynolds hire him?” Becca hugged her knees to her chest, like she did when she was thinking, and turned to face her friend. “I mean, to be honest, he didn’t seem particularly pleased when I said Larissa had sent me—he even told me that she’d used up her credit, or words to that effect.”

  “Well, maybe you’re in luck, then, kiddo.” Maddy shifted to face her, moving her glass back to the table, much to Clara’s relief. “Maybe you’re still in the running. Maybe this wasn’t even a real interview. He wasn’t in there for long.”