“Larissa, it’s over.” Becca looked up at the older woman, trying to see the person beneath the mascara and the scarves. Clara could hear Ande and Marcia talking softly in the living room. “I know that you’ve been keeping Trent—and that you’re overdrawn.” The older woman’s mouth dropped open. “That’s what you and your ex were arguing about, wasn’t it? Just tell me one thing, Larissa. Did you kill Suzanne because she and Trent were involved, or because she found out your little secret?”
“That’s crazy.” Chin high, Larissa dismissed the idea.
Becca, however, was not cowed. “The records room?”
A sniff.
“You couldn’t turn him down.” Becca thought back to what Jeff had said about “bad juju.” What Maddy had overheard at the office, and the laughing couple she herself had seen earlier that evening. “You were obsessed with him, and so you were trying to have your bankruptcy records sealed, so nobody would know how much you’ve been giving Trent.”
“I was not looking to have any financial records sealed. Not that it’s any of your business.” Her mouth closed so tight, the lines showed her age.
“I’m sure the police will disagree…”
“It was my divorce proceedings, if you must know.” Larissa spat out the words. “I knew you were poking about, and I didn’t want anyone finding out about Graham, and about, well, you know…”
“Your adult son, Nathan?” Becca’s brows went up. “The police still have motive. Suzanne was involved with Trent, and you know it.”
“So what?” A toss of the hair, but not a denial.
“You were jealous,” said Becca. “She was pretty—and younger. Maybe you didn’t mean to kill her when you lashed out. Obsession can be dangerous.”
To her surprise, the older woman laughed. “Obsessed? Are you kidding? Was my little fancy supposed to make me lash out?”
“Who’s lashing out?” Trent walked in. “And what are you two still doing in here? I thought we were leaving, Larissa. Is everything all right?”
“It’s fine.” Larissa brooked no argument.
“No, it’s not.” Becca lifted her heavy head to take in Trent. “Larissa found out about Suzanne. She saw the pendant you’d given her—here, when Suzanne wore it by mistake. The crystal teardrop.”
“What? No.” Trent giggled, a high, nervous sound. “That’s crazy. I would never—”
“That’s why you went to Suzanne’s, wasn’t it?”
The warlock blinked as if he’d been slapped. “No, I—no,” he stammered, the color leaving his face.
Becca’s voice was flat. But even exhausted, she was relentless. “You wanted that necklace back, before it cost you your place.”
“Suzanne liked that crystal better than she did me.” His whisper was barely perceptible. “She said it was more real.”
Becca ignored him. “You’re lucky the parking meter alibi’d you, but you must have wondered. That’s why you ran to Larissa as soon as the police had released you. Why she was the first person to call me—even before my mother. She wanted to find out what I knew. What I’d figured out.”
“I didn’t think Larissa had hurt Suzanne.” Trent was growing desperate. “I never thought …”
A beringed hand flicked the back of his head.
“Oh, stuff it, Trent,” Larissa cut him off, then turned back to Becca. “I knew about Suzanne. Just as I knew about his fling with Ande and his little flirtation with you. Those dalliances mean nothing. He always comes back to me.”
Trent’s mouth opened and closed, like a beached fish, but neither of the women were watching.
“You can’t prove that.” Becca considered, and for the first time, Clara heard doubt in her voice.
“As a matter of fact.” Larissa beckoned and Trent stepped toward her, his face unreadable. With one long claw, she hooked the chain around his neck and pulled it forward, forcing him to bend. Taking the amulet between two fingers, she briefly examined it—flipping it over to its backside before holding it out to Becca. “Read,” she commanded.
“Love renewed,” Becca read aloud, “under the Flower Moon.” The inscription ended with the date of the coven meeting—the Wednesday before Suzanne’s murder.
“What was that?” As Becca stood silent, trying to make sense of what she’d read, Clara turned to Harriet for an answer. The calico didn’t need to remind her sister that this inscription hadn’t been duplicated on her summoned facsimile.
“I didn’t see any words when I grabbed it.” Harriet blinked. “Besides, who cares about words? I wanted the pretty shininess of it.”
“Trent’s a boy.” Larissa addressed the stunned Becca, as if the man she was referring to weren’t there. As if she wasn’t holding him, literally, on a chain. “But he’s a good boy. He knows who owns him.”
“What’s going on here?” Marcia poked her head in, her Sox cap already in place. “I thought we needed to get going.”
“Just cleaning up.” Trent pulled back as Larissa released him. His voice was unnaturally high, and the shorter woman looked at him, puzzled. Turning his back on his mistress, he moved toward Marcia, the fingertips of one hand playing down her arm. “But we’re about done, if you want to get out of here, Marcia.”
Only Clara and Harriet could see the leer on his face, but surely Becca could hear the insinuation in his voice. “In fact, Marcia.” His voice sank to its sexy lower register. “I’ve been wondering if you’d ever thought of spending some time with me.” He moved to usher her out of the kitchen, his voice like warm honey. “You’ve got the darkest eyes…”
Clara glanced back at Becca, concerned. Her person had once been interested in this man not that long before.
“Gross.” Marcia’s retort broke through his murmurings. “Just…no, Trent. No. Are you clueless?”
She stepped back. Away to face him. Even Ande, who’d been fussing with her bag, was looking at her now.
“I never got to make my announcement.” Exasperation gave Marcia’s voice an edge. “Luz and I are getting married. We wanted to invite the coven to our ceremony. Maybe even have a hand-fasting or something. But forget it. You’re gross, you…you second-rate lothario.”
As she turned away, Trent burst into tears.
All hell broke loose after that. Larissa pushed by Becca to cradle the crying man in her bosom, and Harriet and Clara had to scurry to avoid being stepped on. Ande stood, transfixed, as Marcia stormed out of the apartment, without even taking her loaf pan. Becca, meanwhile, just sank into a kitchen chair and put her head down on her folded arms.
It was up to Clara to make sense of the scene: Trent, Marcia, even Ande were accounted for, and Larissa had faced Becca’s accusation unfazed. Still, something was wrong. She’d been so sure that Becca had uncovered a hidden truth. She looked around. “Where’s Kathy?” she asked her oldest sister.
“Here!” Another howl came out of Becca’s bedroom, and the cats ran to their litter mate, who was staring at a closed door. “She’s in there,” Laurel explained.
“Enough of that!” Harriet threw her bulk against the door and they all heard the gasp of the startled young woman as the big marmalade tumbled into the bathroom.
“She’s going to throw her out.” Clara turned to Laurel.
“This is my house!” Harriet grumbled, her aggrieved mew echoing on the tile. “Besides, this is what cats do!”
Clara looked back toward the kitchen. Becca still hadn’t emerged, and her pet was growing concerned.
“Hey, what the...?”
Laurel’s ears pricked up and she nosed the door. Clara joined her and soon they were all inside the tiny room with the young woman who was, Clara noted, fully dressed. Ignoring the two cats who had just barged in to join their sister, she was kneeling by the toilet paper roll, as if changing it. Only she seemed to be fussing more than Becca ever had.