A Spell of Murder

by Clea Simon

  “I’ve been—look, it’s not just work, Becca. I’ve got other obligations to other friends.” The other woman was beginning to get defensive. “I want them to catch whoever did it. But I don’t think I’ve got some great insight into what happened. It’s not like Suzanne and I were close. I mean, outside the coven. I didn’t even know she’d gone out with Trent before I did—that is, before she met her new guy.”

  Jeff. Becca winced. “Yeah, well, the police are looking into it—and they want to talk to me again. I need to make sure they have all the facts.” Becca turned to take in the modern tower. Inside the glass foyer, the light flickered. An elevator opened, and a swirl of color stepped into the lobby. “I’m going to make Larissa tell me what’s going on. I know she doesn’t like to talk about money, but this is serious.”

  ***

  Inside the lobby, another figure appeared. A man in jeans and white shirt rose and greeted the colorful arrival.

  “Please don’t.” A note of anxiety—or could it be fear? “Becca, you know how private she is. I don’t want her to be angry at me for speaking out of turn, not to mention that she did kind of consult with me in my professional capacity.”

  “I’m sorry, Ande. Look, I ran into Larissa when I went to the records room at city hall, and she wouldn’t tell me what she was working on. I’ll try to make it sound like I’m following up on that. I’m sick of all the secrets.” Becca turned away as the doors opened, discharging the woman and her waiting date. “They need to know if someone was embezzling—”

  “Wait, what?” Ande interrupted. “Becca, I never said—”

  “Look, I’ve got to go—and I’m sorry.” Becca dropped her voice, cupping her phone in her hand as the couple’s laughter got closer. “Just—you should know—I’ve also been hearing things. Like, that you were maybe trying to frame Trent.”

  “Me? Trent?” Ande’s voice squeaked as Becca looked up in time to see the bearded warlock himself, showered and dressed once more in his usual open-necked shirt, escorting a laughing Larissa down the walk.

  Chapter 38

  “Maddy, there’s something going on here.” Becca made her next call to her friend, hitting the number even as she emerged from her hiding place behind a hedge. “Ande says she hasn’t talked to the police yet. And Trent and Larissa are definitely a couple.”

  “Becca, do you hear yourself?” Her friend was leaving work. Becca could hear the traffic noise as she neared the T. “A woman was murdered, and you’re playing detective?”

  “I’m not playing.” Becca stopped herself and pulled a bit of boxwood from her hair. “Maddy, the police want to talk to me again. They’ve been calling, and everybody knows I’m out of work and I need money—and that Jeff dumped me for Suzanne.” Before her friend could interject, she rushed on. “Someone’s been talking to the police, and I’m worried that they’re not getting the full story. I’ll go in and talk to them, I promise. But I want to figure out what’s going on first. I only came over here to talk to Larissa, and now…seeing her with Trent…”

  Maddy snorted. “Well, at least I know why Reynolds is always in such a mood. I can’t imagine he’s thrilled with how his ex is spending his money.”

  “Maddy, that’s not fair.” Becca felt a little bad that she’d texted Nathan’s revelation to her friend the night before. She’d been so overjoyed to find out that the handsome painter was neither job competition nor Larissa’s love interest that she’d probably revealed more than she meant to. Now Ande’s words came back to her. “You never know what’s going on in someone else’s relationship.”

  Another snort. “Maybe not in theirs—but that Trent? Oh, come on.”

  Becca bit her lip. Maddy was touching on the conclusion that she herself had reached. “There’s also—Maddy, I don’t think I told you, but I spoke with Jeff—”

  “Oh, Becca!”

  “No, we’re not getting back together—don’t worry about that. Only he brought up that Suzanne had thought someone was stalking her again. He thought it was me, but she’d also gone out with Trent and she had a necklace that she loved but that she never wanted to wear when she came to the group.”

  “That coven of yours…” Her friend’s censure chilled the phone line. “And this is the guy you went out with too?”

  “I didn’t really.” Becca caught herself. “Okay, maybe I did, but he’s been out with everyone. Ande as well as Suzanne, and I think Kathy has a crush on him too. Only seeing him with Larissa makes me wonder.”

  “Becca, you’re not making sense.”

  “I am!” Becca insisted. “She had this necklace—a crystal teardrop. I think Trent gave it to her, and that Larissa knew.” The image of her colleague, lying lifeless on the floor, came back—the horror of it. The streak of blood already growing dark. The knife protruding from Suzanne’s bare throat. “Maddy, I think the killer took the necklace.”

  “Please, Becca,” her friend entreated. “This is a job for the police. You need to stop this—you need to tell them everything that’s going on.”

  “I can’t, Maddy—not just yet. They must already think I’m involved, or else why would they be asking me to come in again? And, well, I don’t know, do I? Maybe she’d just taken it off. And the whole thing could be totally innocent.”

  “Yeah? Well, who killed her, then?”

  Becca didn’t have an answer for that one, and her friend knew it.

  “I’m sorry, kiddo.” Maddy was fading as she descended into the subway. “Look, I’ll go with you tomorrow, first thing before work, okay? And tonight—do you want to come over? We can watch a movie or something.”

  “I’d love to.” Relief suffused Becca’s voice, and for the first time since she’d left the house, Clara relaxed. “Oh, but, no, I can’t.”

  Clara’s ears pricked up. As, it seemed, did Maddy’s. “No? Not another date?”

  “Oh, I wish.” Exhaustion—or exasperation—drained the life out of Becca’s voice. “I can’t believe I forgot, Maddy. And now it’s too late to cancel.”

  Silence on the line. Then, “Becca?”

  “The coven is meeting tonight, Maddy! That must be where Larissa and Trent were heading, and I’ve got to rush home and clean up.”

  ***

  In truth, Becca had over an hour before the group was scheduled to convene. That left her plenty of time to get home and pick up what was generally a fairly neat apartment. True, Laurel and Harriet had been bored in her absence, and had made their point by knocking several small objects off the bookshelf. The point, Laurel said, was to keep Becca busy while they debriefed Clara, a task for which the seal-point feline seemed to have more enthusiasm than their oldest sister, who had made herself scarce.

  “Can’t this wait?” Clara looked on in sympathy as Becca frantically rushed around, picking up pens and paperweights. “Becca is in a tizzy.”

  “How do you think we felt?” Laurel’s ears flicked backward, revealing a bit of temper. “You run out to talk to the police, and we don’t hear from you for hours.”

  “I know, but we never got there.”

  Becca was on her hands and knees, looking under the sofa. Searching once more, Clara realized, for the amulet.

  “She ran into that Trent, and he showed her that he still has his pendant,” she explained.

  “Good.” Harriet had ambled in from her nap. “Then I can make another. So you owe me a treat!”

  It was useless. Clara’s spirits sunk, as did her tail, and she turned from her sisters to watch her person’s frenzied quest.

  “Listen up!” A sharp slap to the side of her head brought her back. Laurel, her blue eyes blazing. “You act like you’re the only one who cares, but we want to do what’s best for her too. But you’ve got to tell us what you know—and quickly too! Those cookie eaters are on their way.”

  “Cookie eaters?” Harriet looked toward the
door.

  “Harriet, focus!” Clara looked from one sister to another. She’d never heard Laurel speak this way, not to Harriet. Even the big marmalade seemed somewhat taken aback and sat blinking under that blue glare.

  “I know I’ve been a bit lax.” Laurel had the grace to dip her head. Cats see a direct stare as an offensive move, and once she had their attention, the middle sister seemed ready to shift into a conciliatory fashion. “This has been a comfortable perch. But you do know our family history, don’t you?”

  Harriet blinked and turned to Clara, who tilted her head inquisitively. “I know we have a duty to our people and that we come from a long line of witch cats.”

  “And what happens when we don’t pay attention?” Laurel’s tone had become a bit schoolmarmish—only with an edge that worried Clara and set her spine tingling. “What happens when we aren’t careful?”

  “We don’t get treats?” Harriet offered the most serious punishment she could imagine.

  “Our people—the women we are bound to serve—are taken as witches in our place.” Laurel was practically hissing. “They’re taken away away and burned.”

  “They don’t do that anymore.” Harriet looked to Clara for support. “Do they?”

  “I don’t think so.” Clara wracked her brain. She hadn’t heard of anything like that. “But the police haven’t been very kind to our Becca,” she added, her soft mew growing more thoughtful. “And she’s worried that they do suspect her of something. They do keep calling.”

  “You see?” Laurel said, turning. “Tails and whiskers up!” And just then, the doorbell rang.

  ***

  “Hey, Marcia. Come in.” Becca did a good job of hiding her disappointment, but Clara heard it in her voice, in the dying fall as she opened the door for the first arrival. “Oh, is that a cake?”

  “Banana bread.” Marcia looked around, her large eyes widening dramatically. “What’s up with your cats?”

  Clara turned. Harriet and Laurel were both staring at the diminutive woman, and even a human must have been able to feel the suspicion—and, in Harriet’s case, hunger—in their gaze.

  “I was out for a lot of the day.” Becca was improvising. “I think they were lonely.”

  “Okay, then.” Marcia gave the sisters a wide berth as she passed into the apartment. “I’m the first one here?”

  “Yes.” Becca ran past her to replace the sofa cushions, which she’d piled on the table. “Sorry, I was…I was doing a little cleaning. Shall I take that?”

  “Sure.” Marcia leaned in slightly, and Clara had the distinct impression that the shorter woman was about to confide. Only just then, the doorbell rang again. “Never mind. I’m going to get a knife.”

  “Becca, I’ve been thinking.” Ande stepped in before her host could say anything. “Maybe she was down at city hall because she’s filing a suit for fraud?”

  “Who was?” Marcia emerged from the kitchen with a bread knife—and the obvious question for a paralegal. “What’s the suit?”

  “Oh.” Ande blinked, at a loss for an answer.

  “It’s nothing,” Becca covered. “I was doing research on something, and I ran into a roadblock. I think someone was trying to keep some information private.”

  “Who’s the claimant? Of course, I don’t know if anyone could keep a fraud suit private,” Marcia opined as she sliced. “We deal with those all the time, and it really depends if it’s criminal or civil—and that can get complicated. It’s not like a bankruptcy, where you can get the records sealed like that.”

  As Marcia snapped her fingers, the doorbell rang again, and when Clara saw Larissa in the doorway, she looked over at Laurel. If only her sister would use her powers of suggestion to change the subject. Laurel, however, had had enough of the doorbell and retreated to the sofa. Harriet, meanwhile, was nowhere to be seen.

  “Darling, so nice to see you again.” Luckily, Larissa was as self-involved as usual. “I trust you were able to get your work done?” She took Becca’s arm as she entered, almost spinning her around. “I was working on a little project of my own, you see.” As she leaned in, Clara got a whiff of patchouli that almost made her dizzy. “I might have good news for you later, but let’s not share anything yet. Are we agreed?”

  Becca tried to step back, but the older woman held her tight. “Yes, I would like to talk later,” she said, peering over her shoulder. “I have some questions too.”

  “Yes, yes, later.” Larissa was already moving on, releasing her and progressing into the living room, as Kathy came to the door.

  “Is Trent here?” She looked around.

  “Sorry.” Marcia’s voice had an edge in it that made Becca turn. Before she could say anything, the bell rang again. Their warlock had arrived.

  ***

  An hour later, the banana bread was gone and Becca, as well as her cats, were more than ready for the convocation to be over. Becca was too polite to rush anyone, of course, but the usual rituals simply grated this night and she had felt a headache coming on as soon as the group was seated, though that could have been because of the patchouli. The cats were less patient, particularly once the treats had been eaten. All three had been staring at the coven members with a concentration that no sensitive human should have missed.

  But if Becca had hoped to move things along—and to be able to corner Larissa—she was out of luck.

  “I was thinking,” said Marcia during a pause in the readings. “Maybe it would be good to go around and speak of Suzanne. I feel like maybe I wasn’t as somber as I should have been during the memorial, and I want to explain—and give her the proper respect.”

  Ande, on her left, squeezed her hand, murmuring something about it all being understandable. But Larissa seemed to hear the proposal as a challenge.

  “Excellent suggestion, my dear.” She tossed her hair for emphasis, and then held forth for a good fifteen minutes about the “promise” she had seen in the young woman.

  Ande kept her tribute shorter, and Kathy basically passed. “I didn’t really know her,” she said. “I only ever saw her here.” When Trent began to expound—something about inner beauty and manifestations of the goddess—Becca winced.

  “Trent, darling.” Larissa must have noticed her hostess’s pained expression, Clara thought. Either that, or Laurel’s powers were finally having an effect. “Do you think we could possibly move on to the final benediction?”

  “But I didn’t—I mean, I’d like to make an announcement first,” said Marcia, turning from the goateed warlock to address the rest of the table. “That is, if Becca doesn’t mind?”

  “Not at all.” Becca managed a smile. Her headache was getting worse.

  “Thanks.” Marcia’s voice was warm, at least. “First, I’d like to thank Becca for having us. Luz and I were wondering if perhaps this was too soon. Especially for Becca.” She held up a hand to stop Larissa before she could complain. “Becca was the person who found our departed sister, after all.”

  “We are all grateful, Becca,” Trent broke in. “Aren’t we? I was just saying—”

  It was too much. “I’m sorry.” Becca stood. “Trent, Marcia, can this wait? I feel like my head’s about to split open.”

  Ande rose and followed her into the kitchen, where she filled a glass with water.

  “It’s the stress,” said Ande, pressing the glass into Becca’s hand. “I mean, the police and all.”

  “Police?” Larissa came in as Becca drank, stinky teapot in hand. “You were talking to the police again?”

  “I was supposed to.” Becca leaned back against the sink, felled by the combined stench of that brew and Larissa’s perfume. She had no more energy to dissemble. “They called me back. Trent too.”

  “Well, I’m sure it was nothing.” Larissa raised her arms, her sleeves flapping like wings as she shooed the other coven member back
into the living room. “Now, Ande, why don’t we give her some space?”

  “I don’t need space.” Becca sounded so tired, Clara wished she could simply rest. “I need answers.”

  Marcia peeked in, only to be dismissed with a wave of Larissa’s hand. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The older woman’s volume had sunk dramatically.

  “Yes, you do.”

  Clara watched, transfixed. She’d never seen her person so serious.

  “Clara! They’re scattering!” Laurel’s yowl carried from the living room. Larissa started, her eyes going wide.

  “That’s just my cat.” Becca brought her attention back. “Larissa, I get it. You were trying to have the records sealed. The bankruptcy records. It all makes sense.”

  “What? No.” Another yowl, and Clara resisted the urge to respond. Couldn’t her sisters take care of anything?

  “Are you okay?” Ande stuck her head back in, nearly stepping on Clara’s tail. “Otherwise, I’m going to head out.”

  “Everything is fine,” Larissa hissed, and Ande withdrew, as if the older woman had indeed been a snake.

  “Larissa, it’s over.” Becca looked up at the older woman, trying to see the person beneath the mascara and the scarves. Clara could hear Ande and Marcia talking softly in the living room. “I know that you’ve been keeping Trent—and that you’re overdrawn.” The older woman’s mouth dropped open. “That’s what you and your ex were arguing about, wasn’t it? Just tell me one thing, Larissa. Did you kill Suzanne because she and Trent were involved, or because she found out your little secret?”

  “That’s crazy.” Chin high, Larissa dismissed the idea.

  Becca, however, was not cowed. “The records room?”

  A sniff.

  “You couldn’t turn him down.” Becca thought back to what Jeff had said about “bad juju.” What Maddy had overheard at the office, and the laughing couple she herself had seen earlier that evening. “You were obsessed with him, and so you were trying to have your bankruptcy records sealed, so nobody would know how much you’ve been giving Trent.”