Becca looked around. The window showed only the lot outside, still and dark, but a door to the right stood slightly ajar. More light and the smell of that coffee emanated from within. Raising her voice, she cleared her throat and tried again. “Hello?”
“Calm down!” a man’s voice called from behind the door.
“Mr. Cross?” Becca’s voice rose with tension as she took a step forward. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you, but I—”
“Please!” The voice sounded agitated, and Becca stopped in her tracks. On the other side of the door, the man started speaking again, only this time his voice was quieter. Clara, whose hearing far surpassed her human’s, made sure to shade herself carefully and crept by Becca. Her person might want to respect Frank Cross’s privacy, but it was easy enough for the shadowy calico to slink by, even without additional magic, squeezing through the narrow opening without nudging it further.
The man in the small office might not have noticed her even if she had. Pudgy and sweating, with a skein of brown hair that ran across a glistening pate, he paced, oblivious to anything other than the beige phone squawking in his hand.
“Please, I promise.”
As Clara watched, he pushed his damp hair back farther on his head and patted it. If that hair had been Harriet, it would have bit back, the way he kept at it, flattening it out. He still might not have noticed, as focused as he was on the phone, which was pressed so tightly to his ear that only the faintest sound escaped.
“No, you’re wrong.” He licked dry lips and paused in his pacing. “No.” Leaning forward, he caught his desk chair with one hand, and Clara wondered if he was going to be sick. “Please!”
Something was wrong, horribly wrong, and Clara’s thoughts went to her person. Zipping through the nearly closed door, she found Becca still standing, caught in her uncertainty.
“Let’s leave!” the calico did her best to suggest, thinking of the brisk, fresh air outside. Of the nice warm apartment that awaited. But Clara didn’t have Laurel’s gift, and besides, Becca was caught up in this interaction, despite being unsure of what to do.
“Mr. Cross?” Her voice was so soft that even had he not been on the phone, Clara doubted he would have heard it.
“No!” So loud Becca started. “I didn’t…I wouldn’t ever…” A clatter as the balding man slammed down the receiver, and then a loud sigh. Becca gathered herself up to knock on the half-closed door when another sound broke the silence: wracking sobs, like a man overcome with grief or, possibly, shame. Letting her hand fall to her side, Becca stepped back, and then turned and left, as quietly as she had entered.
“Well,” she said, once she was again on the darkened street. “Maybe that’s settled. It sounds like she reached him!”
She might have thought she was speaking to herself, but the day’s curious interactions had Clara thinking. Perhaps she had misinterpreted Elizabeth’s odd farewell, or the woman had been disoriented by the dusk. Perhaps the toddler on the street had been confused by the squirrel, or simply liked to yell out “kitty!” Clara had little experience of human kittenhood. But, increasingly, she wondered about her own connection with Becca. The bond between them was so strong, wasn’t it likely that her person sensed her presence? At times like this, it was all the little calico could do to resist twining around her person’s ankles. Only the knowledge that her sudden appearance here, in this bleak industrial part of town, would give Becca a fright kept her from letting her presence be felt. As it was, Becca appeared more relaxed as she turned toward home.
“Maddy? I’ve got some good news for you.” Clara wasn’t crazy about Becca talking on her phone as she walked. Cambridge was her home, but it was still a big city, and the spotted cat wished her person would stay alert to her surroundings, especially now that the dusk had given way to night. Still, it was useful to eavesdrop on Becca’s conversation.
“Uh-huh, I’m still taking Gaia’s case,” she was saying to her friend. “But I’m free of the other one, her boss’s.” Clara couldn’t hear the other side of the conversation, but from the way Becca was nodding, she could guess that her friend was repeating her advice that Becca drop the whole thing.
“There might not even be a case,” she picked up once her friend fell silent. “I mean, Margaret, the boss, was saying that someone was embezzling, but I think she was just angry at Gaia. She thought her husband was having an affair with her. I think she was trying to frame Gaia. And maybe scare her, too.” Becca’s voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “I think maybe she saw the root that Gaia brought over and stole it.”
Slight squawks escaped from the phone.
“It’s—no, Maddy, I’m not getting involved in anything criminal. In fact, I’m walking away now. I had a hunch, when she wouldn’t let me call the police, even though she was wailing about jewelry being stolen. She was trying to convince me that her husband had taken it and run off. Sure enough, her husband is at work. To be honest, I think he was dodging her calls, but when I walked in, they were clearly having it out. Don’t worry, Maddy, I’m not getting between them. I don’t know what he did, and I don’t want to know. But I can tell you he feels super bad about it now.”
Becca paused. “Didn’t I tell you? I went to see him. She said something about his lot, and I realized that used car lot over on Putnam had to be his. We pass by it all the time. You know the place I mean—Cross Auto, with that big sign that says, ‘Ask Frank! Make a deal!’”
The sounds from the other line were quieter this time.
“No, I wasn’t sure what I was going to say. Maybe, ‘Call your wife,’ or something. I just thought I should drop by. Confirm the facts. I may be a witch, but I’ve got to do the basic legwork, right? But it didn’t even come to that. I was waiting in the front room—I don’t know, maybe his receptionist had left already, if he has one—and I could hear him in his office. He must have finally picked up one of Margaret’s calls. He was apologizing like anything. To be honest, it sounded like he could barely get a word in.”
She was smiling and shaking her head even as she listened to Maddy’s reply.
“I don’t know, Maddy. I don’t think I’d want to be either one of them. I was with Margaret, so I know how angry she can get. Not that she didn’t have reason if what she suspected was true. But I figure whatever was going wrong has been put right. I have never heard someone trying to explain himself so fast,” Becca said. “I mean, he didn’t even sound apologetic so much as he sounded scared!”
Becca was small for a human, but as she relaxed, her stride lengthened and Clara had to trot to keep up. Still, she was grateful for this indication that her person was happier. Even the squawking from the other end of the line sounded quieter.
“Yeah, I know.” Becca nodded, as if her friend could see her. “Believe me, I don’t want to get between those two either.”
Becca broke into a grin as her friend responded, much to Clara’s relief. Still, she tilted an ear forward as her person lowered her voice once more.
“I’m going to stay on Gaia’s case, though. It’s not just that I could use the experience, Maddy. Even if she can’t pay me, I signed a contract.”
More noise.
“No, I’m sorry, but I have to, Maddy. Because what if I’m wrong about Margaret just trying to scare the girl? What if someone really did try to poison Gaia? And what if they try again?”
Chapter 8
Clara was exhausted by the time she got home, racing Becca the last few blocks. Not that this stopped her sisters from pestering her for news.
“What happened?” Laurel nudged her with one chocolate-dipped paw. “Did you find out anything about that girl Gaia?”
“Where has Becca been?” Harriet sat back, her flag-like tail flicking back and forth with anxiety. “Doesn’t she know how we worry?”