“You don’t think that Margaret, that that crazy lady… Or maybe she’s working with her sister. Maybe they did do something to Frank, and now they’re going to come for me.”
“But you just said that Elizabeth basically threw you out of the shop.”
“Yeah, she did. But maybe she did it because she knows something—something about Margaret.” Gaia held Becca’s wrist in a death grip as she leaned in close. “She wants me gone before I can find out what really happened. Or before her crazy sister can kill me, too.”
Chapter 18
“We’re going to the police.” It was a statement, not a question. Still, Gaia tried to wriggle out.
“I’m sure it’s nothing,” she quailed. “I was being silly. Tiger always says I overreact.”
“Tiger should be coming with us, too.” Becca pulled her phone out.
“No, please.” Gaia reached for her hand, but it was a plea not a grab for the device. “Let’s leave him out of this. I’ll go with you.”
Becca thought for a moment, then accepted with a quick nod. It must have taken all her self-control not to hold the other girl’s arm, Clara thought as she turned and started back into the square. At the end of the block, she slowed. The brick building that housed the shop and the Cross’s apartment lay straight ahead.
“Why don’t we duck behind the store?” Becca asked, turning toward Gaia. “Just in case.”
Gaia managed a wan smile in return, and the two turned down the side street that would take them past the back of Charm and Cherish. This was a boon for Clara, as the smaller one-way was both less trafficked and, at this hour, shadowed by the block of buildings. The lack of light appeared to have affected the two young women, however. As they passed the neighboring structures, they walked in silence, each lost in her own thoughts.
Once they neared the small lot in the rear of Charm and Cherish, Becca paused to look up the alley that ran alongside. But the narrow passageway was empty now except for shadows. Still, Becca was so preoccupied that she almost missed Gaia’s sudden intake of breath.
“What?” Becca turned to her.
The other girl appeared frozen in place, as if her glittery sneakers were glued to the sidewalk.
“I can’t,” she said. “I really can’t, Becca.”
She was staring ahead at the tiny lot. Only one car was parked there now, a battered tan Toyota that was rumbling as it belched out clouds of blue smoke. Over the top, Becca could see a wiry head of grey hair.
“Elizabeth.” Becca sighed. The older of the two sisters had clearly just exited the shop, that gunmetal gray door propped open behind her. The light from the small window just past the door shone down through the shadow, highlighting the silver in her hair. “Well, she’s probably just takingout the trash.”
Clara peered up at her person. Even from here it was apparent the older woman was speaking to someone in the car. Gaia must have seen it too, because she emitted a faint groan.
“Maybe it’s just someone asking for directions.” But sure enough, the Toyota began backing out with a scraping sound that didn’t speak well for the exhaust. As it turned, Becca strained to see. There was something familiar about the driver, Clara thought. But with the windows up, she could catch neither scent nor sound.
“Funny.” As Becca looked on, the car headed away, leaving the small lot empty except for the dumpster. Elizabeth turned back toward the building, then paused to examine a plastic milk crate that had been left beside the door. A moment later, she stood, shaking her head, and left it there as shewent back inside, letting the door shut behind her.
“Anyway,” said Becca, “she’s gone.” With that, Clara’s person turned to her companion, only to find that the goth girl had disappeared as well.
***
“Gaia?” Becca called quietly, whirling around to check up the alley. But the black-haired girl was nowhere in sight.
“I may as well talk to Elizabeth.” Becca sounded resigned. “At the very least, she can fill in some blanks for me.”
With that, Becca walked up to the alley and, after a moment’s hesitation, followed it up to the street, Clara hard on her heels. When she paused on the street out front, Clara waited. For a few seconds, Clara thought she might even have thought better of her errand and decided to continue on her original mission. But to the little cat’s dismay, Becca was only once more looking around for the missing girl. And possibly, she realized, strategizing. Then, pulling herself upright, to make her petite frame as tall as could be, she walked up to the colorful store and entered, to the now familiar jangle. Clara had no choice but to follow behind, passingthrough behind her before the bells had quieted.
“Hello.” The shop appeared empty. Although Clara could make out sounds, nobody stood in Gaia’s place behind the counter or between the packed shelves. “Anyone here?”
“Coming,” a familiar voice called from the back room, and Becca headed toward it. But if she was hoping to check out the storeroom, she moved too slowly. Elizabeth stepped out, pulling the door shut behind her. She was wearing a smock and work gloves, and in one hand held a pair of secateurs. “Becca, dear,” she said with a smile as she pocketed the pruning shears. Although she was fully shaded, Clara ducked behind a display of crystals as her person stepped forward. “Welcome.”
“Elizabeth.” Becca was smiling, Clara could hear it in her voice. She could also hear the strain underneath. This was a ploy, she realized. Her person was trying to disarm the older woman. “I was hoping to speak with you or, perhaps, with Margaret.”
She stepped forward, toward the back room. Elizabeth didn’t move. “I’m afraid Margaret is indisposed,” she said. “I’m sure you understand, what with Frank and all.”
“Of course.” Becca agreed. “I’m wondering if the police have shared any information with you?”
“The police?” Elizabeth’s voice rose as she began to pull off her gloves. “Why would they tell me anything?”
“Well, I gather you’re here, taking care of your sister…” Becca caught herself before she finished the sentence. She wanted the older woman to reveal herself, Clara realized with admiration.
“I don’t take care of Margaret,” Elizabeth said so quickly that Becca caught her breath. “I do try to advise her, of course. But it’s not like she ever listens to me.”
“I gather you didn’t like Gaia, the girl who was working for her.”
“That fake?” She brushed her hands together, dismissing the shopgirl like a last bit of dirt. “No. I had no use for her. I told Margaret.”
“And I assume you shared your suspicions with the police?”
“Of course.” Elizabeth sounded very matter of fact. “But that doesn’t mean… Oh, dear! Becca!”
Clara started forward in time to see Becca begin to fall, her knees buckling. She grabbed the counter just as Elizabeth raced around to catch her.
“Poison!” The calico stared, wide-eyed, unsure of what to do or how to help.
“I’m fine.” Becca leaned heavily on the older woman. “I just got a little lightheaded. If I could just sit down for a moment?”
“Of course.” Arms still around Becca, she began backing up, kicking open the door behind her. And as Becca apparently regained her strength enough to walk through it, Clara relaxed. The move had been a ruse, a trick to get into the back room.
“Would you like some water?” Elizabeth asked, showing Becca to a worn couch. Despite its sprung upholstery, it looked comfortable, Clara thought, with deep cushions and soft velvet that still retained some of its pile. As her acute nose informed her of its other recent usage, her ears went back. This, then, was where Frank and Gaia had their assignations.
The odors were too faint for Becca to notice, however. And as Elizabeth hurried over to a corner, where a sink and hot plate made for a makeshift kitchenette, she took in her surroundings. In front of the sofa, a scarred wooden coffee table held two dirty mugs as well as an opened deck of Tarot cards. Metal shelving lined the walls, stuffed with books and boxes, several wrapped in cellophane. The door to the shop remained ajar, as did one by the sink, revealing a small lavatory below a smoked-glass window. As Elizabeth ran the tap, Becca craned around to see the exit to the street. Her view was nearly blocked by large cardboard boxes, some open, others taped shut. Someone was in the midst of packing, though whether that work would require pruning shears or gloves, Clara didn’t know.