“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 surveyed 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.”