“Rebecca Colwin?” The detective again.
Clara could only look on in sympathy as Becca stared in mute horror at the amulet in Trent’s hand. “See?”
Chapter 37
“This makes no sense.” Three minutes later, Becca was still rooted to the spot by the impossibility of what she had seen. Trent, whose confidence began to crumble as more uniforms strolled by, had taken off with a brittle giggle and a promise to be in touch. By then, the rumpled detective had finished his smoke and returned inside.
Only after one of those passing officers had paused on the walk beside Becca, turning as if to question her, did she move on. Even then, she could have been sleepwalking, her mind reeling with confusion. It was all too much, and when she rounded the corner, she leaned back against a brick wall, closing her eyes as she slid to the ground, desperate to gather her thoughts.
“Miss, are you all right?” a bearded stranger, his panting Labrador looking on placidly, asked with concern.
“I’m fine, thanks.” Becca bounced back to her feet but could only produce a feeble attempt at a smile. “I’ve just had a shock.”
“Do you have a friend you can call?” The good Samaritan looked ready to move along. “Someone you can talk to?”
She had held the amulet in her hand. Maddy had seen it. It didn’t make sense. Unfortunately, what did make sense was Trent’s appearance, here at the police station. The warlock had been called back—she didn’t buy his story about volunteering for a second—and he’d just as clearly been questioned about his finances. That meant somebody had made a call. Maybe Ande had said something. Only, Kathy had said that Ande was out to get Trent. Which seemed odd in that Ande had been so reluctant to come forward, despite Becca’s urging—and despite her knowing that the group’s bank account had been plundered. Was this all connected somehow? Was Ande behind it all—or Larissa, with her money? Suzanne had wanted to talk to Becca about the group’s finances. She, not Ande, had been alarmed about the money going missing. But before she could explain, she’d been killed.
“I’m not sure,” said Becca to the concerned stranger, and then she got up and walked away.
***
“Ande? Please call me back.” Becca had been calling as she walked, pacing the city streets like an anxious cat. With each new voice message, she’d become more annoyed—and more certain that everything was indeed interconnected. Yes, Ande had been the one to note the financial disparities. She’d also been the one to downplay them—only a few thousand, she had said—to Becca and, possibly, to Suzanne as well. But if she couldn’t reach the wiccan accountant, she was going to have to tell the police detective all she knew. Only, she was hoping to have a little more information before she bearded that particular rumpled lion in his den.
“Ande, if I don’t hear from you soon, I’m going to tell the cops everything. I have to.” Even as she spoke, she had another thought. “And, I’m sorry. I know you told me stuff in confidence, but I’m going to tell them about Larissa too.” She paused. “Please, call me.”
It wasn’t merely that she didn’t want to betray Ande’s trust. The idea of crossing the older woman by herself was scary. Larissa liked to be in control, and she certainly wouldn’t want to hear that her finances had been discussed—by the coven’s resident accountant no less. Still, whatever was going on with the older woman’s investment into their little group, it was looking more and more like it was connected to Suzanne’s murder. And the fact that Becca had been asked to talk to the police once more gave her reason—and license, Becca figured—to seek some answers. After all, she couldn’t avoid going into the precinct for much longer.
Phone in hand, she continued walking—not back home, as Clara had hoped, but toward the riverfront tower where Larissa had her condo. The shadows had grown longer by then, as the afternoon progressed with more calls and more messages left. While this made Clara’s path easier, it didn’t mean she worried less. Becca should be withdrawing from conflict. Heading home to where her sisters waited, Clara thought. Instead, she was marching toward a confrontation.
Half a block away, she was stopped by the sound of her phone.
“Becca?” Ande’s voice rang out from the little device. “I’m sorry I missed your calls. I’ve been crazy busy.”
“It’s okay. Thanks for getting back to me.” Becca paused and turned away from the glass-fronted tower, as if those windows were eyes that could see her here, out on the walk. “I’m sorry—I’ll get right to it. Did you talk to the police?”
“Excuse me?” Ande’s confusion sounded real, but Clara crept closer to hear what she could.
“The police,” Becca repeated. “Did you tell them what you told me about the coven’s finances—or maybe they’re really Larissa’s?” Becca stared up at a tree, as if the details of that earlier conversation could be found in the new leaves. “And did you say anything about Trent?”
“Trent? No. Look, all I know is that Suzanne said she’d found something,” Ande corrected her. “That last night we were all together, before the meeting. I don’t know if she really did, poor thing. But why are you harping on this? Surely, a couple of grand one way or another isn’t motive for murder.”
Becca’s mouth opened, but she didn’t speak. Clara knew why. Most cats wouldn’t understand the ins and out of finance, and, in truth, Clara couldn’t have balanced a checkbook if her kibble depended on it. But she did understand how carefully her person was watching her pennies. Yes, she suspected, to some people a few thousand dollars might be motive—and it seemed quite apparent that Becca was thinking along the same lines.
“It’s not me who’s doing the asking,” she said at last. Ande probably couldn’t hear the dying note in Becca’s voice—part sad, part rueful—but Clara could. The woman on the other end of the line couldn’t miss the urgency with which Becca repeated her initial question, though. “What did you tell the police, Ande?”
“I didn’t tell them anything,” her friend insisted. “I haven’t spoken to them. I’m sorry, I know I said I would, but I haven’t had time.”
“You haven’t had time?”
“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—”