by Clea Simon
As the friends dressed, Clara turned toward Laurel.
“Was that your idea?”
Her sister’s blue eyes closed in satisfaction. “You didn’t like him either. Admit it.”
Clara bowed her head in agreement. There had been something odd about the man. He’d seemed, well, as strained and scared as a bird would, in a house full of cats.
“He was a bully, and I don’t like bullies.” Laurel lashed her tail at the memory. “Although that does fit with him being scared.”
Clara squirmed. It was always a bit disconcerting when Laurel read her thoughts. Besides, something else was bothering her. “He did act odd,” she agreed. “But Becca lied.” Clara was fundamentally an honest cat, although the feline sense of right and wrong could be a bit subjective.
“Becca stretched the truth.” Into Clara’s mind came the image of the violin tucked away in the bedroom while Becca had cleaned. Not exactly to hand. “How do humans put it? Out of sight… out of mind?”
“I only hope you didn’t get her into trouble.” Clara sighed, as she watched Harriet amble off to the sofa, the history lesson she’d begun to relate vivid in her little sister’s mind.
Chapter 13.
Maddy took off first, though not before trying one more time to convince her friend.
“All you have to do is call him,” she said. “Say you forgot. He won’t care.”
“Don’t you have inventory?” Becca hugged her friend, before pushing her out into the hall.
Becca left soon after, with Clara, who had shaded herself to accompany her, unseen by her side. But even as the little cat began to bounce her way down the stairs, she realized Becca wasn’t beside her.
Climbing back up, the calico saw her person had frozen in the hall outside the apartment. She was staring at the yellow crime-scene tape that covered the neighbor’s door, a haunted look on her face. When she reached into her bag, Clara wondered if she was going to call the robin-like man. Maybe Laurel’s influence had worn off. Maybe Maddy’s embrace had convinced her. But all she did was pull out a pen and a stickie note.
R – At shop. – B, she wrote. And sticking the note to her door, she turned and descended to the street.
“It’s probably nothing.” Clara caught up to her in time to hear her talking to her phone. “But maybe I should bring her in? Thanks.”
The device buzzed before she could slip it back into her bag.
“Doctor Keller?”
“So, has she called?” Maddy didn’t even bother with a greeting, her voice loud enough to carry.
“Maddy we just left.” Becca looked up and down the street, as if the young musician might appear at any moment. “But no.”
“Good. Good riddance to bad rubbish!” A pause and the sound of a chime. Maddy, Clara realized, was on a bus. “Anyway, I was thinking. If she doesn’t show and you don’t want to call the dude from the conservatory, you could just drop the violin off at the police station. I’ll go with you.”
“I’m sure she’ll turn up.” Becca ignored her friend’s outburst. “I left a note that I’d be at the shop.”
“You–” Maddy’s sigh carried over the phone line. “Becca, you can’t adopt every stray you meet.”
Clara’s fur bristled at that. Maddy had always been a good friend to Becca, but that was going too far. Becca seemed bothered as well. “I’m not,” she said, with a little more force than usual. “But you didn’t meet her, Maddy. I did. She’s young and she’s over her head.”
“If you say so.” Maddy didn’t sound chastened. “I know you have a good heart, Becs. But, please, think about what I said. You’ve got to look out for yourself.”
Becca was at the shop by then, which gave her an excuse to end the conversation. But even if she led her friend to believe she had to open, she didn’t reach for the key ring in her bag. Instead, Clara saw, she knocked on the store’s painted glass door, standing on tiptoe to smile in over a yellow and green yin and yang sign.
“Morning!” She called in to Margaret, the store’s owner, waving through the door. In response, the owner turned and grimaced, her face pruning up beneath that unnaturally dark hair. Shambling slowly over, she unlocked the door, by which point the grimace had softened a bit to her customary scowl.
“Thanks, Margaret.” Becca sounded determined to sweeten the old lady.
“You scared me.” The owner waddled away. “I didn’t know if you’d be here today.” The older woman had walked back into the shop, so she couldn’t see Becca’s face fall.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” Becca quickly shed her jacket. She was halfway to hanging it on the hook behind the counter when she paused. “Didn’t Elizabeth tell you?”
“She said you wandered into a crime scene or something. No, don’t bother.” She waved off Becca’s explanation as she bustled past. “I gather this came from your running off after some girl like she was your long-lost sister.” The answer came from the shop’s back room.
“Kind of.” Becca struggled to explain. “We had a customer and she left something in the store. That’s why I took off, but then, well, something happened with my neighbor – well, the man I thought was my neighbor, and I had to talk to the police–”
“Forget I asked.” Margaret reappeared, waving away Becca’s explanation like a pesky fly. “This girl, she didn’t buy anything, right? So she wasn’t a customer, was she? You certainly have a knack for finding trouble, young lady.”
Becca opened her mouth to respond before deciding better of it. “She’s only venting,” Clara heard her say to herself, even as the little cat braced for what was coming next.
“Good morning.” Becca turned again as the bells on the door jingled, and Elizabeth strode in. “Oh, hi!”
“Good morning.” The taller sister smiled with real warmth. “Did my sister interrogate you yet?”
“No.” Becca managed a smile, even as her eyes darted to the back room. “She didn’t want to hear any of it. I gather she didn’t believe what you told her?”
“Oh, I didn’t give her the details.” Elizabeth breezed by. “She wouldn’t have cared. Family, you know? It’s never perfect.”
“Is that Bitsy?” Margaret came out of the back. “Finally! Some obnoxious man was here, asking questions.”
“I hope you didn’t tell him when Becca was coming in.”
“What? No.” Margaret thumped past her sister. “I don’t know when she’ll be here half the time.”
“Margaret, I’m sorry.” Becca was doing her best to keep her voice pleasant, her smile fixed. “Elizabeth and I both thought I should go after her – the customer, that is.”
“Huh.” Margaret snorted, pursing her lips. “Well, maybe if you can catch some it will be worth it.”
“This was important, Margie.” Clara could have sworn Elizabeth’s smile was as forced as Becca’s. It softened when she turned toward the shop girl. “I’m going back to help my sister with the inventory, Becca,” she said. “I’ll fill her in, too. Give a yell if you need me.”
“Thanks. Do you want me to wait on the window display?” Becca called as she disappeared into the back.
“Trust your instincts, Becca.” Elizabeth called over her shoulder. “I do.”
Elizabeth must have told her sister about the murder – and Becca’s role in discovering it – because the owner didn’t bother her employee again that morning. Two hours later, when the sisters were leaving for lunch, Margaret even went so far as to approach Becca, patting her arm as if she were a cat. It hadn’t been that long ago, after all, that Becca had helped her deal with a series of crises that had resulted in the death of her husband.
“Thanks.” Becca acknowledged the awkward kindness.
“We’re going to lunch,” her boss replied, the moment over.
Once the two were gone, Becca took advantage of the quiet to focus on the display. She was in the back, choosing between two statues of Ganesh to display when the bells an
nounced a visitor.
“Coming,” she called, grabbing the more colorful of the two elephant-headed gods and proceeding to the front of the store, only to find Marcia and Ande had entered, propelled by a gust of wintry air.
“Hey, Becca.” Ande was hugging her arms around herself as she looked around. “Seems we brought the cold with us.”
“Don’t worry about it. That window concentrates the sun. Even with the paint, its usually broiling in here.”
Marcia, meanwhile, was staring transfixed. “That is so cool.” She reached for the statue.
“I’m going to use it in the window display,” Becca explained, handing it over. “What brings you out in this weather?”
“We were talking.” Ande returned her friend’s smile. “And it came up that you could use some help.”
“How did you–”
“We hate the idea of you losing your place.” Marcia chimed in before she could finish. “Hey, it’s selfish. We both love having the coven there.”
“I know you said you can’t afford to buy your place. But I’ve been looking at some options.” As Becca began to protest again, but Ande cut her off. “Please, Becca, this is what I do. I’ve run the numbers.”
“And I just tagged along to lend some moral support.” Marcia set the Ganesh down beside the register and leaned over the tray of gemstones, running her finger through the offerings, so that the colorful stones made a pleasant rattle. “And maybe look for a ruby.”
Becca did a double take. “Do you know her?”
“What? No. Wait, do you have any info?”
Ande looked at her two friends. “What are you two talking about.”
“This girl who came in–”
“Oh, no, I meant that big jewel heist.”
Wait, what?” Becca stopped first. “Marcia, what are you talking about?”
“Didn’t you hear?” Marcia selected a red stone and held it up to the light. Polished as smooth as beach glass, it glowed like fire. “The crown jewel of Monrovia or something was stolen from a museum exhibit. It’s all over the news. Hey, if it ended up here, it would certainly pay for your down payment.” She winked. “I mean, the reward money, of course.”
Becca managed a smile, but Ande was studying her face. “What is it, Becca?”
“It’s complicated.” Becca hesitated on that last word. “Something happened last night.”
Two sets of eyes waited, but Becca looked down at the tray.
“I sort of can’t talk about it anymore. Not if I’m going to make it through the workday.” Summoning a smile, she touched one finger to the stone in Marcia’s hand as if taking strength from its smooth and glowing surface. “And that’s a garnet. Sorry.”
Ande and Marcia exchanged a glance that both Becca and her cat could read too well. “But tell me more about this robbery.” Becca summoned an enthusiasm that had been missing earlier. “I could use a good heist story.”
“Well,” Marcia leaned in, clearly willing to humor her friend. “The news reports were talking about how it might have been smuggled out of the country. Sounds like they could use a witch detective, Becca.”
“I think they have Interpol for that.” Her friends’ concern, as much as the distraction, had brought some color back to Becca’s face. “Besides, wouldn’t it have been cut into pieces by now and sold?”
“Actually, probably not.” Ande chimed in. “More and more, when something famous is stolen – and the Vér ruby is kind of famous – it just kind of disappears. There’s a theory that they’re going into private collections, or maybe used as markers in underworld deals. Almost like currency, since everyone has a pretty good idea of what its value is.”
“There you go, Becca.” Marcia warmed to the topic. “If you did find it, then you could use it to buy your apartment.”
“Only if I bought it from a drug lord.” Becca managed a laugh, which Ande took as her cue.
“Seriously, Becca, there are a couple of different paths you can take here.” She must have seen something on Becca’s face, because she then pulled two pamphlets out of her bag and pushed them across the counter. “Would you take a look?”
“Sure.” Becca’s smile wobbled as she pulled the papers toward, her eyes on Marcia, who was standing by the door.
“And if you want to talk.” Ande’s dark eyes were kind.
“Thanks.” Becca raised her voice to reach her other friend. “And thanks to both of you for coming by. I promise, Marcia, if I find any rubies, you’ll be the first to know.”
“I’d say you’ve found something priceless already.” The voice, coming up behind her, made Becca start. She’d been watching her friends, waving as they headed out to the street in a jangle of bells, and Elizabeth’s approach had been silent.
“My friends, you mean?” Becca turned to face her manager. “Yeah, they’re pretty great.”
“Yes, they are.” Elizabeth returned her grin. “But I was thinking of other treasures as well.”
With that, the older woman pulled a cardboard box from a lower shelf and disappeared back into the storeroom, leaving Becca alone in the shop. The visit from Ande and Marcia had lifted her mood. Even though she hadn’t told them of the horror of the night before, their mere presence – and, yes, Ande’s kind offer – had done their work. Even the tray of gemstones looked duller now that Marcia wasn’t flipping them over or holding them to the light. Although she picked out a particularly pretty one – another garnet with an interior flaw that made it flash like fire – Becca’s shoulders sagged.
The accompanying sigh might not have been audible to anyone whose hearing was less acute than Clara’s, but to the little calico, the sound was loud and clear. Becca was distressed, and her pet felt powerless to help her. Invisibility could be so frustrating. If they were at home, Clara could simply jump for that red gem and bat at it. While Harriet might covet something so smooth and round, Clara would be doing it to distract her person. Her sisters’ teasing nickname – “Clown” – wasn’t always a negative.
But shaded as she was, Clara could do little but watch, dispirited as Becca leafed through Ande’s pamphlets without really seeing them. What Becca’s boss had said had touched her, her cat realized, and for the first time Clara wondered if Laurel had a point. Maybe Becca did need more human companionship. She certainly deserved to be treasured.
Could that have been what Elizabeth meant? There was something uncanny about the older woman, a factor that sent a prickling along Clara’s spine and made her fur rise just thinking about it. The older and taller of the two sisters – Elizabeth – might be friendlier than her sister. She was certainly more interested in Becca, as well as the shop. But that interest could be unnerving, Clara well knew. The calico had not forgotten how the older woman had appeared able to see her, for instance, even when she was sure she was shaded to invisibility to most humans.
That couldn’t be the problem for Becca though, the little cat thought as she stared up at her person’s face. Elizabeth interacted with her like most humans did. Or, no, the tingling in Clara’s fur alerted her, almost like all humans. While most humans were fairly predictable, at least to a cat, this one was different. How, she couldn’t exactly say, and watching the play of emotions across her person’s face, Clara once again wished that she’d heard more of Harriet’s story. Her history had hinted that there were humans who were different. Special somehow. Clara had automatically assumed that Harriet was referring to humans like their Becca. Even if their person hadn’t the magic of a day-old kitten, surely she was special in other ways. But maybe she meant humans like this Elizabeth, with those dark hooded eyes that seemed to perceive so much.
How could they see her? Clara hunkered down, her black-tipped tail wrapping around her white front paws, to work this through. As she did, Becca went through her usual morning routine in the shop: checking the cash register and watering the two plants that sat in the window. She had had problems with plants here before,
but these were harmless – an aloe, which probably would have benefited from less water, and a geranium, which Clara would have liked to nibble on if she weren’t pretty sure it would upset her tum.
By the time Becca had finished with the plants and summoned some gentle music out of a machine in the back, Clara was giving this problem her undivided concentration. And if she was not asleep on the pile of soft fleece sweatshirts with the image of Bast on them as she mulled, then she was most assuredly in that deep meditative state that cats can assume when they’re thinking. Almost like a trance, as if Laurel and Harriet were still with her, lulling her to sleep…
“Your first duty…” The words, like an echo, stayed in her ears, even as the cat sensed that years had past. The woman did not become a queen. It was not to be. But after that day she had power of a sort. She was certainly no longer to be whipped.
The cat had made quick work of the mice in the granary, as the pointy-eared goddess had long decreed. But there was more as well. Whereas the others of her kind had only thought of themselves, feasting at will on the wheat-fattened prey and moving on to other amusement once their hunger was sated, the cat had stayed true, standing sentinel on the woman’s baskets, even while she slept.
One evening, early in her vigil, two of her kind joined her.
“You need your rest.” The more slender of the two addressed her first, a spark in her sky-blue eyes. “We will watch the woman and her wares.”
“But why?” The cat looked from the speaker to her companion, a large animal with unusually thick fur. She was tired by then, but wary. “Was your kill not sufficient?”
“Have you no memory, Foolish One? We come from the same mother.” The second cat spoke in a low voice, her reprimand like a growl. “A daughter of Bast who brought us here to serve.”
“To serve?”
The two newcomers looked at each other, as the smaller cat waited.
“Did you not sense it?” The slender one responded at last. “Did you not see the great fang?”