“Here you go.” Elizabeth slid onto the sofa beside Becca, handing her a plastic beaker of water.
“Thanks.” Becca managed a smile but did not, Clara was glad to see, drink. Instead, she turned to face the open boxes. “Are you, uh, changing out the inventory?”
“That? Oh, yes.” Elizabeth appeared flustered, as if she were seeing the boxes for the first time. “I’m afraid Margaret let things go, and so I figured that while I’m here I would try to get things in order. There’s so much that’s outdated and nothing has been taken proper care of. Ofcourse, it would be a huge help if we had a proper staff.”
Becca nodded.“I ran into Gaia.”
Elizabeth sighed and shook her head.“That girl,” she said. “She didn’t belong here. She had no feeling for the craft.”
Becca’s eyes narrowed. For a moment, Clara thought, she resembled Laurel. “That’s why you let her go?”
A startled laugh.“You thought—because of Frank? No, she did Margaret a favor, though my sister doesn’t see it that way. Frank was a liability from the get-go. She’ll be much better off now that he’s gone.”
Before Becca could respond, the jingling of bells announced the opening of the store’s front door.
“Elizabeth, are you there?” a voice, nasal and a little whiny, called.
“Margaret?” She rose and turned. “Coming!”
Becca followed her back through to the front of the shop.
“Glad you’re feeling better.” She greeted her sister with a hug.
“What? Oh, hi, Becca.” The shorter sister had her coat on, and her pink cheeks attested to a longer walk than the half block from her apartment. Still, she bobbed her head toward her sister. “Yes, thank you, Elizabeth. The nap did me good.”
Becca looked from one sister to the other, but bit back whatever response she was about to make.“I’m glad you came by,” she said instead. “I’ve been meaning to offer my condolences. I’m so sorry for your loss.”
The new widow sniffed, a bit dramatically.“Thanks. It was a shock.”
When nothing else followed, Becca leaned in.“If you’re up for it. I was also hoping to ask you a few questions.”
“Questions?” Even a human couldn’t have missed the way the two sisters locked eyes. But if Becca saw anything, she chose, once more, not to comment. Instead, she simply smiled and waited. “Of course,” said Margaret. “Elizabeth, would you make tea?”
With another glance at Becca, the taller of the two sisters retreated into the back. Margaret, meanwhile, removed her coat and carried it around the back of the counter. Although she sniffed again, Clara suspected that had as much to do with the chill outside that had pinked her cheeks as with grief. Surely, Becca had to notice that the widow had seemed more upset at the idea of her husband leaving her than at his death?
“With everything that’s going on, I can’t believe that Elizabeth fired my only employee.”
“I thought she was following your wishes?” Becca spoke quietly, so as not to be overheard by the woman in the back.
“Elizabeth?” Margaret shook her head. “Hardly. She thinks she knows best. As always.”
As she settled onto a stool behind the counter, Becca leaned forward.“She was telling me about Gaia.” Another quick peek, but the older sister still had not emerged. When the widow sniffed once more—perhaps she had a sinus condition—Becca hesitated. But when Margaret only dabbed at her eyes with a balled-up handkerchief, she began again. “I’m sorry. I’m not interested in gossip, but Gaia’s been having some problems, and you have to see how this looks. I was thinking that if, perhaps, someone was angry at Gaia, she might have thought to scare her a little.”
The wiry-haired widow sighed, and for a moment Becca looked like she was about to apologize. Clara understood—Becca was a sweet girl and inclined to be sensitive—only just then she hoped she’d hold firm.“Please, Becca, you need answers,”she muttered in a low feline rumble. If only she had a little of Laurel’s powers of persuasion, the calico thought yet again, as she concentrated as hard as she could.
“Have you spoken to the police about the theft?” It sounded like a digression, and Clara stared up at Becca, wondering what her person was aiming at.
Margaret seemed to deflate further, and Clara realized there was, indeed, some kind of connection.“Frank,” she said, as her bowed shoulders rose and fell once more. “He was a dreamer. He thought bigger than he was. What else can I say?”
“So you didn’t report the jewelry? The watches?”
A single sad shake of the head.“It doesn’t matter now, does it? I mean, to anyone but me.”
“But if you think someone was stealing…” Becca’s tone stayed even, her voice soft, but she wasn’t giving up.
“Someone was. Only, well, that’s all over.” Another brush of her hand, as if larceny were a pesky fly.
Becca sucked in her lip. Clara recognized that move. It meant she was thinking about something or, no, regretting it.“Margaret, when I said I couldn’t take your case, it wasn’t because I didn’t think it was legit.”
“It doesn’t matter, dear.” The large eyes raised to meet Becca’s were dry but sad. “I did some silly things, too.”
“I was wondering.” Becca’s voice, already quiet, grew powder-puff soft, as gentle as a kitten’s paw, and Clara waited. “Was that what happened with Frank, Margaret?” Becca glanced quickly toward the door, expecting Margaret’s older sister to emerge at any moment. “Tell me, Margaret.Did you want to scarehim a little? Bring him back in line?”
“Frank?” Margaret’s head went back as she screwed up her face in confusion. “You think I…that I made him sick? You think that’s why he left? You can’t, possibly…”
Becca reached out to take her arm.“I don’t mean it was anything intentional. Of course not.” Becca remained quiet, the voice of sympathy, though Clara could hear how tightly controlled her breathing was. “But if there was an accident with one of the herbs from the shop, maybe? I mean, I would understand.”
“No, I don’t think you do.” Margaret pulled away, any trace of that brittle giddiness gone, replaced by an acid scorn. “I don’t know where you get your information, but I didn’t dose my husband with anything. Not from my shop, not from anywhere. I’ve never hurt anybody, not even that cheating little trollop you seem to have become friends with.”
Becca started to protest, but Margaret cut her off.
“I’m extremely glad I didn’t spend any money on your so-called psychic services.” Her dark brows descended as she glared at Becca. “It’s pretty clear you’re no good at detecting anything. Frank’s heart gave out, you silly girl. He was a cheater and a loser, and it’s his own fault if his guilty conscience finally caught up to him.”
***
“Why don’t we step outside?” A hand gripped Becca’s upper arm and she turned to see Elizabeth, who proceeded to march her toward the door. “Shall we?”
Clara bristled, ready to spring. But as soon as she had Becca out on the sidewalk once more, the older woman released her. Blowing out her lips, she reached up and pushed that wiry hair off her face.“Stupid girl.” It sounded more like frustration than a reprimand.
“I’m sorry.” Becca still seemed stunned by Margaret’s outburst. Or perhaps, thought Clara, by the widow’s lack of grief.