That lack continued to try the pet’s patience, but her own superior senses helped her keep her temper. By the time Becca had progressed to the dumpster, checking around the back before peeking inside, Clara had even begun to relax. Just as they hadn’t picked up any signs of life in those cars, her whiskers hadn’t picked up the vibrations of anything man-sized between the metal receptacle and the brick wall. Becca might not like the family of rodents who had made their home in the storm drain tucked in the corner, but Clara knew they were no real threat to her person, even if their presence might make her squeal.
If Clara was hoping that Becca would ignore the metal door that led out to the alley, however, she was disappointed. As she watched, the young woman strode up to it and tried the handle. Locked tight, the latch barely responded to her energetic pull; the dull gray door not at all. With a sigh of exasperation, she proceeded to examine the frame and then the wall. A frosted window to the right of the door was set too high for her to reach, and no bell or buzzer could be seen. Increasingly exasperated, Becca rapped on the door with her knuckle, but the thick metal only gave up a dull thud in return. Only after a few more tries did she finally give up. But instead of moving along, as her pet would have hoped, Becca began to backtrack. Perusing the little lot and the adjacent street one more time, she peered down the alley and then started the longer walk around the block back up to the store’s front.
“Her boyfriend was right.” Becca was speaking to herself, but Clara, trotting to keep up, heard her loud and clear. So clearly, in fact, that she found it a bit unnerving. Becca’s words could have been her own. “I need to reach her,” she was saying. “To warn her…”
But all the cat could do was tag along back to the brightly painted little shop, which was now locked tight.
“Gaia?” Becca called as she knocked on the glass door, and then leaned in, trying to peek through a green and yellow yin-and-yang symbol. “Are you there?”
Becca squinted. The morning sun reflected off the glass, making it difficult for her to see if her former client was inside or, indeed, if the little shop’s lights were even on. Clara could have told her that nothing was stirring, but the neatly lettered sign taped to the door—Back in Fifteen!—should have been enough. Still, Becca kept at it for at least that long before turning with a sigh and slumping back against the metal frame.
Clara waited with her, tail curled around her paws, willing herself to be grateful for the respite. But although she would have appeared the model of patience if her person could have seen her, the little cat fretted. The shop girl had made no attempt to hide her own erratic work habits. The fact that she had a sign to post should have reminded Becca of this. Besides, if something had happened—Clara’s ears flicked in search of any indication of a struggle that she might have somehow missed—there was little her person could do about it now. As Becca waited, one foot tapping in impatience, Clara found herself channeling her sister Harriet. Maybe it would be better if Becca never left the house.
Laurel would argue with that, of course, and as the minutes ticked past, Clara found herself wondering just what her slinky sister had been able to discern. Could her part-Siamese sibling have picked up traces of that young man, Tiger? Or had she somehow implanted a willingness to flirt in their person? Clara had long felt pretty sure of the extent of her own powers—the shading and the ability to pass through doors pretty much went paw in paw, as if her corporeality was tied in part to her visible self. What her sisters could do, though, she wasn’t completely sure. Harriet was so lazy, she rarely pressed her powers. Summoning up a pillow or a new toy was apparently all she was interested in. And while Clara had been reasonably confident that Laurel’s abilities extended only to implanting suggestions in the minds of humans, her middle sister’s recent brags had the ring of truth.
If only her siblings trusted her more, Clara thought, her ears beginning to sag. If only they shared more. Acted more like family. Then maybe she wouldn’t worry so much about the person they had all adopted. If only Laurel weren’t so obsessed with Becca’s love life. The tawny sister was awfully quick to incite interest in just about any possible suitor, Clara thought. Although there had been that one man…
Her musings were interrupted as Becca’s phone rang, startling her out of her thoughts.
“Hello?” She answered with something like suspicion. “Becca Colwin.”
She stood up straight as she spoke. A sign, Clara knew, that she might be addressing a potential client.
“Oh!” An outburst of surprise as her posture relaxed. “Tiger. Of course I remember you.”
Clara strained her ears forward, hoping to catch the other side of the conversation. From the faint color that rose to Becca’s cheeks, she suspected it wasn’t about business—or not completely. But as Becca put her shoulders back, clearing her throat, Clara realized that perhaps her person had made a decision. Whether it was going to be a good one, the little calico couldn’t tell.
“Why, yes, I’d like to get together.” With that, Becca began to walk, leaving the colorful storefront behind.
Clara’s ears flicked back in alarm.“This is Laurel’s doing!” A low growl rose beneath the white fur of her chest.“Not every man is good boyfriend material.”
Worse, Clara realized as she trotted along behind her person, Becca wasn’t going to the police station. Despite what she’d told her coven, what she’d promised Ande and Marcia, Becca was heading home. For the first time in Clara’s memory, the familiar path didn’t fill her with joy. Between the plans she was hearing and the direction Becca had chosen, it was clear her person was getting more deeply involved, just when they had all hoped she was pulling back from the investigation.
“Lunch sounds great,” Becca was saying. And there was nothing the little cat could do.
When Becca’s phone rang again, Clara dared to hope. But the young woman didn’t even slow down as she took the call.
“Hey, Maddy. What’s up?” Clara picked up her own pace, hoping to hear Becca’s friend talk some sense into her. “Yeah, I know. I was just at Charm and Cherish. No, wait…”
Becca rolled her eyes as her friend interrupted. It was a move Laurel had tried on occasion, with comic results. But while Harriet had chuckled, Clara kept her jaw firmly clenched. Laurel was trying to relate to their person, at least, and her youngest sister believed such an impulse should be encouraged.
“No, that’s just it.” Becca was speaking again. “I’d already told Margaret that I couldn’t take her on as a client, and I went to tell Gaia that she wasn’t in any real danger. Her case was, well, I can’t get into details, but let’s just say we both decided that I shouldn’t pursue it. Only, Maddy, now I’m not so sure.”
The faint squawking from the phone stopped her in her tracks.
“No, it’s not like that.” Becca started walking again, albeit slowly, her voice as thoughtful as her face. “I mean, yes, I don’t have clients to spare. I’d hoped to make this a going concern by the time the unemployment ran out. And, you know, I’ve done some good—”
Another burst of sound, a little softer, cut Becca off.
“Thanks, Maddy. I may need to pick up some freelance after all.” Becca sounded so down her cat was beginning to regret her own wishes. “But, you see, I can’t come down to the office today. No, I’m not going to the police—or not yet. I’m having lunch with Tiger, that bike messenger I told you about.”