“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.