“Everything?” Becca craned her head around, confused. Although she appeared to be taking in the reasonably full bookshelf, the shelf of plants, and what looked like a high-end sound system, Clara knew she was looking for a particularly stinky baggie.
“What?” The bark of the question pulled her back to Margaret’s scowl, which creased her lipstick alarmingly. “This? This is all mine. But his rings, his watches—they’re all gone! All the little presents I gave him.”
A sudden intake of breath as she jumped up, racing to a door at the far end of the room.“I knew it!”
With a quizzical glance toward Elizabeth, Becca rose. She followed the voice and found Margaret in what was clearly the master bedroom. Leaning over a low vanity, she was staring into an opened jewelry box, whose gold satin lining matched both the curtains and the fluffy duvet behind her.
“He took mother’s pearls, Bitsy,” she called out, and then pulled a lower drawer open. “And my diamond earrings as well.”
With that, she turned, fixing Becca with dark eyes sparking with rage.“If he gave my sparklers to that little hussy, I swear, I’m going to kill them both.”
***
“I think we should alert the police.” Ten minutes later, and the three were sitting in the living room again. On Becca’s urging, Margaret had made an inventory of her valuables. Sure enough, although the electronics were all untouched, everything small and pocketable had been taken. “This might have been the work of a professional.”
“It’s the work of that little hussy.” Margaret had gone from tears to anger and back again, and now slurped her tea. “Believe me, I know.”
“I’m sorry, Margaret. But how can you be sure?” Becca turned to the other sister for confirmation, but Elizabeth was pouring the last of the tea into Margaret’s mug. When that was done, she rose without a word and retreated to the kitchen. “Have you spoken with your husband?”
“I’ve been trying him all day. He’s not answering his phone.”
“You haven’t been either.” The words slipped out. “I’m sorry, but I was trying to reach you.”
“I wasn’t in any shape to talk to anyone else.” Margaret sniffed. “Besides, I wanted to leave the line free. I don’t trust those things.”
There was no easy answer to that, so Becca changed the subject.“Maybe he lost his phone? Maybe he’s been busy?”
Margaret shook off the idea.“I’ve had an idea for a while now. I just thought I could catch them before it came to this.”
“Ah.” Becca turned thoughtful. “Is that why you hired me?”
“What? No.” A glare like a hawk. “Someone has been stealing from me, and this just makes me even surer it’s that girl. Gail—Gaia—whatever she calls herself. I’m sure that once you start looking into it—”
“That’s just it. I can’t,” Becca interrupted her. “That’s why I was trying to reach you earlier today, Mrs. Cross. I have a conflict of interest. That’s only one reason I think you really need to talk to—”
“It’s that girl.” Her gaze was piercing, and Becca squirmed a little, even as she spooned sugar into her tea. “She’s hired you, too. Hasn’t she?”
“I’m not at liberty to say.” Becca tried to sound firm. In truth, she wasn’t sure of the etiquette of the situation. Did hiring a witch detective automatically convey confidentiality? It seemed like it ought to.
“She’s outsmarted me every step of the way.” Margaret looked angry now, rather than sad. Her cracked lipstick set in a tight red line until she started speaking again, and this time her fury seemed directed at Becca. “You do realize what she’s doing, don’t you? She’s playing you. Playing you to get to me. She knew I was going to talk to you. She saw me taking down your number, only she got to you first. What did she say? Did she accuse me of something? Financial malfeasance? Spousal cruelty? I bet Frank spun her some stories about me…”
Becca swallowed, her eyes darting to the kitchen, but Elizabeth did not re-emerge.“I’m sorry,” she said one more time. Only this time, her voice sounded a little more resolute. “I understand that this all very difficult, but if you won’t let me call the police about the jewelry theft, I don’t see what else I can do here. This seems to be a domestic matter that I really don’t want to be a part of.”
“Oh, you’re part of it, young lady. In fact, I’m wondering if you two came up with this together.” The scowl deepened into something truly scary.
Becca put her mug down, frustrated. She no longer wanted to drink anything in this house. What she wanted to do was leave.“Wait a minute. You came to me. I have not conspired with anyone. I don’t do that,” she said. “In fact, as a witch, you should know our basic rule—as long as ye harm none.”
“Tell that to Gail.” The woman across from her pushed her own mug away and slumped in her seat. Suddenly, she looked no more than an old woman, defeated and in mourning. “Frank wasn’t a great husband by any means, but he was the only one I had. Bitsy was right about that girl. She doesn’tcare about the shop, about the craft. She’s just into whatever she can get.”
Becca, having witnessed the other girl’s lax attitude, bit her lip.
“I knew he was up to something with that lot of his. He never wanted me to come down there. Never mind that I paid for it. She was probably hoping for a free car or something. Wait till she discovers Frank has no money of his own,” she said, half to herself. “Then she’ll see who’s been taken for a ride. I wouldn’t be surprised if she gets rid of him before long.”
***
When it became apparent that no amount of persuasion would get Margaret to call the cops, Becca stood to leave.“I’m sorry,” she said again, heading toward the door, though Clara inferred her regret had more to do with showing up at all than for the other woman’s sorrows. “I really have to go.”
It was near dark by the time she was out on the street again. Around her, the lights of the city were casting colors over the sidewalk, making it easy for Clara to sidle up to her person with care. Becca might have been oblivious even if her pet had made herself visible, the calico realized, as her person collapsed against the brick wall with a deep sigh.
“Becca?” At the sound of her name, she jumped. Elizabeth was standing beside her. “I didn’t mean to startle you, but I wanted to catch you.”
“It’s no problem.” Becca’s brow furrowed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you come down.”
The other woman only smiled.“I wanted to tell you how grateful I am for you coming here today. For your interest in Charm and Cherish.”
“But I’m not—” Becca shook her head. “I don’t know how much you heard, but I’m not taking your sister’s case. I think she should go to the police. Maybe you can work on her?”
“Maybe.” A noncommittal shrug. “But she’s right, you know. Her husband was stealing from her. Still, there are other reasons…”
“I get that she’s embarrassed.” Becca filled in the blank. “But she’ll have to file for insurance, especially if there are family heirlooms involved.”
“Of course, and we are family.” Elizabeth reached out, putting her cool hand on top of Becca’s. “Be careful, dear.”
Becca nodded, a million thoughts playing across her face.“Thanks,” she said, and turned away.
“And you, too.” Elizabeth whispered, her gaze directed to the shadowed calico at her feet.
Chapter 7
“I must have imagined that,” Clara told herself, frozen to the spot.“Could I have misheard?”
Fancy rarely got the better of the little calico. Cats in general are extremely practical. But recently Clara had realized that she’d been taking on some of Becca’s quirks, most likely because she loved her so—a trait her own two sisters never hesitated to point out. After all, nothing else made sense. So when the older woman turned, chuckling softly, back to the shadowed building entrance, Clara shook herself whiskers to tail, and looked around for Becca.