“Yes.” Maddy sounded strained. “Yes, you did.”
“He said he was picking up something. That he had a key because he’d house sat for Suzanne before, though since she has no cats…”
“Never mind Trent.” Maddy was definitely impatient. “I mean, the police spoke with him, right?” Becca nodded. “Good, let them sort him out. It’s you I’m worried about, Becca.”
“Me?” That cookie wasn’t going to eat itself, but Clara restrained herself. Something was going on here, something that even with all her magic she couldn’t understand. “What do you mean?”
“Well, you and Jeff didn’t really get to talk, right?”
Becca nodded.“In fact, I should call him. I said I would—”
Maddy cut her off.“And you haven’t spoken to your ex in, what, weeks? A month?”
“Close to a month.” Becca’s eyes were free of tears now, but her dark eyebrows were knit in confusion. “Maddy, what are you getting at?”
Maddy looked from her friend down at her plate, and Clara shifted to the table’s edge. If the visitor said anything about that cookie, the compact calico would make a break for it.
“Did he know where you were?”
Becca nodded.
“Who you were visiting?” Another nod as Becca waited for her friend to explain.
“I ran into Jeff in Harvard Square a while ago—and he was with a woman.” The words rushed out of Maddy in a monotone. “A tall blonde whom I’d met before, and so I was trying to place her. I didn’t think she was another programmer. He introduced her as Suzanne, and I realized that she was in your…your group.”
“Coven,” Becca corrected her in a voice barely above a whisper.
“Whatever,” said her chubby friend as she leaned forward to take Becca’s hand, pushing the plate toward the cat.
But even though the two women were definitely distracted, the feline ignored the almond treats. Instead, both her green eyes—the one in the black patch and the one in the orange—were focused on her person, on the way the color had drained from her cheeks. On the way her eyes were widening and filling with tears once again.
“You don’t mean…” Becca’s whispered. “With with?” Now it was her friend’s turn to nod. “Jeff is—Jeffwas—seeing Suzanne?” Her question was softer than a kitten’s mewl, with a little catch in it that made Clara’s whiskers droop.
“That’s not something you should be worried about now.” Maddy patted Becca’s hand once more. “What you should be concerned about is that the police don’t think you knew about it. Because, frankly, if you did, you’d be a prime suspect for her murder.”
Chapter 8
“I’m trying to sleep.” Harriet whined, a long, drawn-out sound like air escaping from a balloon.“Go away!”
“Harriet, Laurel.” Clara looked around at her sisters.“Did you hear that? We’ve got to do something!”
The calico had jumped to the floor after Maddy had dropped her bombshell. The horrid scraping sound of Becca’s chair as she pushed it back had only precipitated her flight, and now she perched on the sofa where Harriet had settled.
“Yes, I did hear it.” Laurel licked her chops, her blue eyes lighting up.“Do you think she did it?”
“No.”Clara drew back, affronted.“Becca is a gentle soul. Besides, I was with her.”
“You could’ve been napping.”Laurel shrugged. She was no great hunter, but with her sleek lines, the sealpoint sister fancied herself part panther. Harriet, meanwhile, was still sluggish from that almond cookie, which she’d devoured to the last crumb. Not even Becca’s voice raised in outrage could rouse her.
“That’s crazy!” Becca was standing. Shouting at her guest, and as much as Clara had wanted her to shake off her grief, she knew this wasn’t a healthy alternative. “Maddy, they can’t think that I…that Jeff…”
“Becca, please.” Her friend rushed around the table to comfort her.
“I’m calling Jeff. This is crazy.” Becca stepped back and pulled out her phone.
“No, you can’t.” Maddy reached for it, but Becca pulled away. “You can’t talk to him now.”
Becca paused, looking up.“Why not?” There was an edge to her voice that made Clara lash her tail.
“Because.” By comparison, Maddy sounded defeated. “The police might see that as evidence. Proof that you killed her to get him back. Or maybe that the two of you colluded.”
As if on cue, the device in Becca’s hand let out a chiming tone.
“Don’t!” Maddy reached for the phone.
“It’s okay.” Becca stepped back and was already looking at the device. The commotion had finally woken Harriet, who yawned wide enough to show all her teeth and then sat up. “It’s Larissa, from the group. She probably just heard.”
“Becca, you don’t have to—”
“So annoying!” Beside her, Laurel stretched, unimpressed by Maddy’s soft pleading.“Maybe I should get rid of her.” She stood, her tail stiff at attention and her blue eyes beginning to cross.
“Don’t you dare!” Clara turned on her, a warning growl in her voice. She knew what that look meant: Laurel was concentrating. Hard. And that meant magic was brewing. Between the crazed look those crossed eyes gave her and that mental“suggestion” that cats were dangerous, the slim seal point had scared off several would-be adopters at the shelter before Clara could stop her. Clara didn’t even want to guess what other thoughts her sister could implant in a susceptible human’s mind.
“Settle down.” The middle sister sat and coiled her tail neatly around her cocoa paws.“You’re such a…scaredy-cat.”
“I’m practical.” Clara glared at her, ears still partly back. The little calico wasn’t sure what any of them could do with something the size of a person—and Maddy was a pretty big person at that. Nor did she particularly want to find out.“Besides, anything you did would get Becca in more trouble, and then where would we be?” Clara remembered the shelter, even if her sisters didn’t.
“We could eat her,” said Laurel with a flick of her own ears. That got Harriet’s attention, and she looked from Laurel to Clara.
“No.” Clara didn’t even bother trying to disguise the growl that had crept into her voice. Clara might be the youngest of the litter, but neither Laurel nor Harriet wanted to expend the energy for a fight.
“Hello, Larissa?” Becca turned away as she answered, her voice tentative. “Yes, I know, I was…I know.”
Maddy looked on, glum. From the sofa, the three cats watched, transfixed.
“I…yes, you’re right.” Becca seemed to be listening more than talking. She looked up at her guest and raised one finger. “Here’s fine. Okay, let me know. And, Larissa? I’m sorry.”
A moment later, she put the phone down.“It’s the coven,” she explained. “They think we should meet to talk about Suzanne. To mourn, I guess,” she said.
“Or because someone wants to strategize.” Maddy sounded so dour that Becca grimaced.
“Oh, come on,” she said in a tone rather like Laurel might use if cats spoke the way humans do. “You can’t think one of us…” She stopped and swallowed hard.
“I don’t know, Becca.” Maddy stepped forward again. “That’s the problem. I mean, someone killed your friend just as she was going to tell you something about your Wednesday witches, right? And didn’t you say the door was open?”
“That doesn’t mean anything.” Becca was shaking her head. Laurel, meanwhile, had tilted her blues eyes toward Clara, her whiskers raised inquisitively. This was a detail she’d forgotten to pass along.
“Later,” Clara murmured. She wanted to hear what their person had to say.
“We’re not—the coven isn’t like that. It’s more likely someone followed Suzanne home, or the door could have been forced.” Becca was enumerating possibilities, but there was something off about her voice. “Maybe she opened it for a delivery person, or she left it off the latch. I was running late, so it could have been that she thought it was me—” She stopped, the reality of the situation catching up to her.