by Clea Simon
“Maybe.” Becca looked doubtful, and Harriet used that moment to swat once more at Clara.
“What’s up with your cats?” Maddy looked at them as if seeing them for the first time.
“They’ve been fighting.” Another shake of the head. “I don’t know why. I think Clara stole a toy. I saw something go flying.”
“Don’t you dare!” Clara hissed, and immediately regretted it. Only after the words were out of her mouth did she realize that her sister hadn’t been paying attention.
“Meow!” Too late now. With her most plaintive mew, Harriet drew all eyes to her as she lay down and stretched her paw under the armchair. “Please!”
“Oh, poor kitty.” Becca was up in a moment. “Hang on.”
While Maddy watched, Becca tilted the chair back, revealing a well-chewed catnip mouse, a wad of aluminum foil that Laurel had become obsessed with over a month before. And, yes, the replica of Trent’s golden amulet.
“What is that?” Maddy was on the shiny piece before Harriet could right herself, carrying it to the kitchen to examine it in better light. Short though she was, once she stood up, she was out of the cat’s reach.
“That’s—no, that’s impossible.” Becca seemed as stunned as Kathy had been.
“Becca?” Maddy looked from the trinket to her friend.
“That’s Trent’s. From my coven, the, uh, warlock.” Maddy’s brows went up, but she kept silent. “He came back after the coven meeting, and we were sitting on the sofa.” The color in Becca’s cheeks only made Maddy’s brows rise higher. “He had that on a chain and it must have been swinging and, well, you know how cats are with moving objects. Anyway, Harriet took a swipe at it and broke the chain. But I thought he’d picked it up.”
“You’ve been busy.” She fixed her friend with a quizzical stare. “So it wasn’t all painter boy?”
“It wasn’t like that.” Becca looked down, her cheeks positively scarlet. “Well, it might have been. Only, I didn’t expect it. I mean, he’s been flirty, but, Maddy, I think he’s flirty with all the women. Anyway, he had just kissed me when that—when Harriet intervened. She scratched him too. Not intentionally, I don’t think. Just that her claw got caught. Anyway, that, ah, broke the mood, and he left soon after.”
“You’d almost think your cat was looking out for you.” Maddy was still smiling, but her face grew serious as she looked at the amulet again. “This feels like real gold. And he just left it?”
“I was sure he’d taken it. I thought I saw him put it in his pocket.” She shook her head. “I mean, he didn’t ask me to look for it or anything.”
“Is he rich?” Maddy was rolling the amulet between her thumb and forefinger. Harriet, Clara suspected, had made the piece heavier than the original. Maybe slightly larger too—those plush paws weren’t as dexterous as human fingers.
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard him talk about a job,” Becca admitted.
With a sigh, Maddy handed over the piece. “I don’t know, Becca. Between a rich playboy and a stalker-y creep, I think you’ve got to meet some new guys. But, hey, if you’re really okay, I think I’m going to crash.”
Becca didn’t argue as she escorted her friend to the door, examining the piece as she walked. “What is it?” her friend asked.
“I’m not sure.” Becca was examining the back of the amulet. “Only, I thought there was something engraved on the back. I remember reaching for it, and Trent kind of pulled it away. That’s what caught Harriet’s eye, I think. And this piece? It’s blank.”
“I’d say your mind was on something else that night,” said her friend. “I mean, there it is, solid in your hand.”
***
“How could you?” Clara turned on her oldest sister in fury. Never mind protocol, Harriet was endangering them all.
The big marmalade knew it. “It’s just a small thing,” she pouted. “And so shiny. And now I have to make another.”
“Don’t you dare!” Clara was positively spitting, she was so mad. “Don’t you see what you’ve done? Now there are two of them. And Becca is going to return it to that Trent—and then they’ll know!”
“Return it?” Harriet’s fluffy face screwed up in confusion, her nose pulling in like a pedigreed Persian. “But it’s mine.”
“Don’t be dense.” Laurel landed with a thud between them. “Both of you. This is going to make things interesting. Becca’s going to bring that Trent around again now. She’ll have to.”
Clara sat, her tail curled around her fore paws, and brooded. Although she was unable to explain why to her sisters, she knew from her whiskers to her tail tip that none of this boded well.
Chapter 34
The text messages continued, as did the calls. Clara could tell from the beeps and buzzes Becca’s phone made, even as she left it on the table. In part, Clara thought, her person was ignoring the tiny machine, despite the tantalizing way it vibrated. In part, she feared, Becca was trying to make sense of the amulet—doing her best to reconcile her memory with the palpable reality she now held in her palm.
Deprived of her toy, Harriet turned her attention to the device. Perched on a chair, she reached one paw up, intending to hook it and send it flying. Laurel looked on, mildly amused, until another vibration sent her back to the apartment door. Clara, catching the same emanation a moment later, froze—torn between her person and that infernal device, and the interruption about to occur.
“What?” Becca looked up seconds later, as a loud rapping sounded on her door. The faint scent of pine, as well as Laurel’s satisfied smirk, alerted Clara to the visitor’s identity, but Becca, oblivious to such subtle clues, opened it, only to jump back with a start.
“Nathan!” She moved to shut the door. His work boot, splashed with paint, blocked it.
“Becca, please. I can explain.”
She looked up at him, mouth agape, and relaxed her hold on the door—just as he pulled his foot out.
“I’m sorry,” he said. She was leaning on the door—ready to slam it shut. Only, she didn’t, which Clara thought curious. “I’ll stay here,” he said, seemingly chastened.
Becca looked at him, and for a moment Clara wondered if she did indeed have magical skills. The way she studied his face seemed to be seeking something in his eyes. Something deep. Finally, tilting her head, she spoke again. “Tell me,” she said, “how did you find out where I live?”
“Larissa,” he responded, spitting the name out as if it tasted bad. “I mean, she’d already given me your number.”
“And about the coven?” She was relaxing—Clara could hear it—but she waited while he nodded.
“Larissa again.” He gave up the name with a sigh. “And I’m sorry, I should’ve told you—I’m sorry I scared you. For what it’s worth, I’ve had enough. I’m not going to cover for her anymore.”
“Cover?” Becca, intrigued, didn’t shut the door. She didn’t move to open it up any further either. Instead, she stood, one arm on the frame.
He nodded. “She thinks she can control everything. But I’m through with that.”
Becca waited, but it didn’t take any particular skill to see that she was factoring in what she’d heard about the older woman—and about younger men. Her “pets.”
“The job.” Her voice was flat. “My friend Maddy saw you today. I know Larissa is setting you up. Getting you that job.”
“What? No, I have a job. I paint houses.”
“Right.” Clara had never heard Becca sound so angry. She glanced over at her sister. Laurel’s eyes were wide. “Look, I get it. This is an expensive city, and Larissa is generous. Larissa likes to help people. Larissa likes her ‘pets,’ especially young, good-looking men.”
“Larissa,” Nathan cut her off before she could go any further, “is my mother.”
***
Ten minutes later, the two were
sitting on the sofa, Laurel curled and purring between them. Clara, for her part, was trying to make sense of all she’d heard. So, for that matter, was Becca.
“I’m sorry I let it go on so long,” the handsome painter was saying. “She gave me your number and then she told me where you live. She seemed to really like the idea of us getting to know each other, and, no, she didn’t tell me you were in the coven together. She didn’t have to—as soon as I heard you say ‘Larissa,’ I knew. She only uses that name for her so-called ‘mystical’ endeavors. To everyone else, she’s plain old Risa.”
“Risa?” Becca tried to reconcile the old-fashioned name with the woman she knew. The jet-black hair. The scarves and the perfume. “Larissa is Risa. Your mother. That’s why you were bringing flowers over. But why Fox?”
“Just a translation.” He smiled, as if at a private joke. “Raposa means fox in Portuguese. So, yeah, Risa Raposa. I guess it’s better than what my father did.”
Becca’s confusion showed in her face.
“He anglicized it. Well, sort of. Reynolds was his version. I think someone told him that fox in French was renard, and he either misheard or thought that still sounded too foreign.”
“Reynolds—like Reynolds and Associates?”
“Yeah, you know them?”
“That’s the job—the one I thought Larissa—your mother—was setting you up for.” She couldn’t hide the humor in her voice. “Suzanne worked there, and my friend Maddy does too. She saw you at the office and thought you were there for an interview.”
“No.” He dismissed the idea, shaking his head. “I pity anybody who has to work for my father. I mean, no—you can’t think…”
“I don’t.” Becca finished his thought. “In fact, I’m trying to leave all that to the police, but I haven’t heard anything that would imply he’s involved.”
“Good.” A sigh of relief. “He’s not a bad guy, but, wait, you want to work for him?”
“Yeah.” Becca nodded. “Well, I’ve applied for a position there. Thought I had it too. Reynolds—your father—seemed to like me. But then Maddy heard that someone else was being interviewed—one of Larissa—Risa’s—pets. So…”
Before she could spell it out, Nathan interrupted with a laugh. A nice laugh, thought Clara. Not too loud, but it came from his belly like a purr. “No wonder you thought I was her boy toy!”
Becca didn’t comment. She didn’t have to.
“Believe me, I know about my mother. So does my father. It’s part of her whole thing—wanting to be young forever. It’s probably why she got into the whole magic thing.”
“Huh.” Becca fell silent, lost in thought.
“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to downplay your group, if it works for you.” Nathan leaned back, unburdened. “I mean, I understand about Wicca having spiritual aspects and everything…”
Becca wasn’t listening. “Maybe that’s why Trent didn’t look harder,” she said to herself. Nathan looked at her inquisitively, but she shook him off. “It’s nothing. A small thing that was puzzling me. That’s all. So, if it wasn’t about the job, why were you at the office today, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“Hey, I feel like you have the right to ask anything.” He grinned a bit sheepishly. “He wanted me to drop by. I thought it was about finishing up that triple-decker. Yeah, he’s a landlord—and the source of most of my referrals, I’ve got to admit. Turns out, he wanted to talk to me about doing an intervention. They fight like cats and dogs, but at some level he still loves my mom. She probably still loves him too, but he’s worried. She’s spending way too much money, and he thinks she’s being ripped off.”
“That fits with something Ande—another member of our group—said.” Becca was thinking out loud. “Only, I had the impression that it was our group finances that were going missing.”
Nathan’s face said it all.
“The group finances are really Larissa’s—Risa’s.” The reality kicked in as Becca pieced together everything she’d heard. “Despite what we chip in, we’re just a pet project for her, aren’t we?”
“Hey, she can afford it.” Nathan was making nice. “I mean, Dad’s done well and she has a good income. Only, it’s not unlimited, and he’s getting sick of bailing her out.”
“Did you tell the cops all this?” Another, darker thought was clouding Becca’s brow. “I mean, about your mother and the money and all?”
“Of course.” He sounded concerned. “But she’s not—I mean, she can be pretty nutty and everything but she’s not a killer.”
Becca held back from saying the obvious—that somebody was. Nathan must have missed the look on her face, because he kept talking.
“Which, all things considered, is a good thing,” he was saying. “Because I know she had a real grudge against that girl, though I guess that’s over now.”
As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he stopped. “You can’t think—” He gasped. “She’s—no, Becca, we’re talking about my mother.”
“I’m sure the police will get to the bottom of it,” said Becca, doing her best to sound encouraging. But Clara knew what was going through her mind—that the police had already suspected someone in their coven, and that her person believed herself to be a prime suspect because of her connection with Jeff. “They have to. I wonder if they know…”
“No.” Nathan sounded horrified. “Becca…”
“Suzanne was seeing my ex, Jeff. But before then, she’d gone out with Trent, at least a few times.” Becca laid out the points, as if talking to herself. “At least, I think so. I don’t know if Larissa—Risa—your mom knew, but I think maybe she and Trent might have something going. And I think Suzanne found out that Jeff cheated on her, so I’m wondering if she might have run back to Trent. Or maybe she had been stepping out on Jeff. Or even—”
“Becca, please.” The man beside her was pleading. “This is all crazy.”
“You’re right. I should leave it all to the police.” Becca stopped and managed a smile. “This is all…this is a lot to think about.” She rose and walked back to the door, turning to Nathan as he followed. “I believe you about what happened with us, and I’m sorry for running out on you,” she said.
“Of course.” He made his own brave attempt at a smile. “And I’m sorry I scared you, coming over like this and everything. Only, you wouldn’t take my calls.”
“No, it’s okay.” Becca took his hand, and for a moment it seemed like he would say something more. But then he turned and left
Laurel seemed pleased as punch with the visit, purring as Becca stood there, leaning her head against the door. Clara, however, kept her eyes on her person, willing her to ask the questions that were rising in her own mind.
“Don’t you think it was a little odd?” she asked her sister. “Him dropping by like that?”
“He likes her,” purred Laurel. “He’s insistent.”
“I hope she checks on his story.” Clara couldn’t keep her tail still. Something was wrong, only she couldn’t quite put her paw on it.
“It’s that mother of his, if anything.” Laurel jumped onto the tabletop and began to bathe. “Becca should steer clear of that one. I bet she’s jealous, our girl being so young and pretty. And that she lives with us too.”
“Maybe,” said Clara, half to herself. It was difficult to carry on a conversation with Laurel when her sister was up on the table, and she weighed making the leap herself. Becca preferred the cats not to sit there, but she had basically given up on disciplining them. Besides, their person had wandered off into the bedroom, apparently lost in thought as she rummaged through the papers on her desk and then her bureau top as if seeking an elusive prey. Nothing seemed to be stirring though, and so with a wiggle of her behind, Clara prepared to leap up. That was one advantage of being the smallest. Why Harriet couldn’t even—
Then it hit he
r. Where was Harriet? She craned around, scanning the table as she did so. The amulet—the replica that her oldest sister had summoned for her own amusement, the piece that Becca was clearly searching for—that was missing too. Clara scooted over to where Becca had left it when she’d heard the knocking on the door. Closing her green eyes in despair, Clara felt her ears and whiskers sag. Harriet had been so upset, but because her bulk made jumping up to the tabletop unlikely, Clara hadn’t thought she’d be able to do anything about it. Now she remembered her sister, sitting on the chair, one paw hooked up over the surface.
What had happened was obvious. The big white and orange cat had managed to fish it off the table while none of them was looking, and now she and the crucial gold piece were gone.
Chapter 35
Becca was too honest not to call Trent to tell him what she—or Harriet—had found. She wasn’t sure what else, exactly, she would say to him, she told Clara the next morning as she continued to search the apartment. After all, it wasn’t that he’d lied to her—not exactly. He may simply have chosen not to reveal some aspects of his relationship with Larissa.
“And we’re not even sure of that,” she said as she peered under the sofa for the umpteenth time. Clara looked over at Laurel, but her sister had grown bored and tuned out, her café au lait side gently rising and falling as she napped.
“I mean, okay, it’s likely.” Becca, kneeling, looked around. “But it’s their business, not mine. Unless…” She bit her lip, and Clara knew she was thinking of Suzanne—and of possible motive. “At any rate, I need to tell him that pendant of his is here, somewhere. If only I could find it.”
Just then, Harriet came strolling into the living room. It was certainly close to lunchtime, but considering that her oldest sister had been in the bedroom, Clara wasn’t sure why she was licking her chops. And then it hit her.
“You ate it? That little gold toy you summoned?” She jumped off the sofa and approached her sister, reaching up to sniff at her whiskers.