“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 she went 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, passing through 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 light-headed. 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.
“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. Of course, 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?”