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 her. 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.
“Yes, I did!” Harriet sounded quite pleased with herself as her sister proceeded with her examination. “So now you can get off my case about it,” she said smugly.
Clara sat back, waiting.
“I used a treat as a base.” Harriet couldn’t resist explaining. “Because it was something I wanted. So when I realized what Becca was looking for, I just turned it back and—yum. It had gotten a little stale, though.”
Clara could have hissed, she was so upset. “But now Becca will never find it!”
Harriet’s own ears flicked in annoyance. “Make up your mind, why don’t you?” her words a near snarl as she walked past her sister toward the kitchen. “First you tell me to get rid of it. Now you’re all hissy.”
“He must be frantic.” Becca’s words could have described her own state of mind, except for the gender. In fact, over the next hour, she did her best impersonation of an animal on a rampage, her search ramping up as she swiped papers off surfaces and tipped furniture over in a growing frenzy. By the time she had all the sofa cushions up, all three cats were seeking shelter on the windowsill. Quite unfairly, both Laurel and Harriet blamed their youngest sibling.
“I’m not the one who summoned a version of that thing!” Clara defended herself as best she could. She knew what those cold stares could mean, and she had no desire to have her ears boxed or her whiskers pulled. And if Harriet sat on her again… “I asked you not to do that anymore!”
It was hopeless. Harriet looked briefly at Laurel, who puffed herself up ever so slightly. Then, both turned to face Clara.
“It has come to our attention that you seem to think you’re the only magical cat in this household.” When Harriet spoke in that tone of voice, Clara knew better than to argue, even though her sister was being horribly unfair. “Time and again, recently, you’ve countered our quite natural desires to use our skills to entertain ourselves. And—” Clara couldn’t help herself and opened her mouth to object. One raised paw, claws just showing through the white fluff, stopped her, as Harriet continued. “And thwarted our natural desire to improve the life of our person, as is our duty.”
Biting down hard, Clara kept herself silent. Harriet was reciting the cats’ canon law.
“Instead, you seem to believe that you are the only one who can aid our human in her pursuits, or that you have some kind of special bond with her.”
With that, Harriet turned to Laurel, who stared at her little sister so hard that she began to go cross-eyed. That was the Siamese in her. “You don’t,” she added, her voice a growly undercurrent to Harriet’s pompous mew. The double vision was distracting, Clara knew, and silently thanked their mixed genetics for cutting the lecture short.
“She must be punished.” Harriet, still peeved about Clara’s interference and the loss of her toy, was not going to let the lesson go that easily. “I’m out a toy—and a treat!”
“You ate the treat.” Clara couldn’t help herself. Harriet turned on her with a snarl.
“Kitties, what is it?” Becca looked up from the floor, where she had surrounded herself with the sofa’s cushions, including—Clara noticed—Harriet’s tasseled creation. “You’re picking up on my mood, I guess. I’m sorry.”
She sat back with a sigh that made Clara yearn to go to her. Laurel must have noticed her posture, or maybe it was the way her rump rose as she readied to leap, because suddenly she felt a paw come down on her tail. “We’re not done yet, missy!”
This was too much. Clara turned and hissed, raising her paw—claws out—to her sister. Nothing was going to keep her from Becca! Only just then, the muted ring of the phone interrupted them.
“Oh no!” Becca jumped up and turned, tossing pillows as she searched frantically. “Where did I leave it?”
Seeing her moment, Clara pulled free and jumped down to the floor. Her superior hearing had already identified the location of the humming device, and with a nudge at Harriet’s pillow, she was able to uncover it.