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 scare him 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.
“Not you—that Gail. Gaia, as she calls herself.” Elizabeth peered back into the shop. Checking for her sister, Becca thought, and giving Becca a moment to collect herself. “She was a menace.”
“You mean, because of the wolf’s bane?” After Becca threw out the name of the poisonous plant, Clara could hear that she held her breath, waiting.
“So foolish.” Elizabeth frowned. Her bushy black brows arched like a cat’s back, but she didn’t pretend not to understand. “You do know that aconite can bring about arrhythmia, a heart attack, don’t you? If the police found that plant in the shop…well, Gaia should be happy I made her get rid of it.”
“You made her get rid of it.” Becca repeated the words to make sure she heard them correctly.
“Didn’t she tell you?” Elizabeth barely noticed. “Yes, I tried to make her understand the danger. Not that a girl like that takes anything seriously. I was glad when it disappeared.”
“Disappeared?” Surely, thought Clara, the older woman would notice the emphasis her visitor placed on the word.
“Re-homed. Tossed. Whatever. As long as it was no longer sitting right there in the Charm and Cherish window. Stupid.” She shook her head again, but slowly, as if consumed more by disappointment than anger.
“So you didn’t take it?” A tilt of the head.
“Me?” Elizabeth laughed, face up in an appeal to the heavens, and then focused those dark eyes on Becca. “You should know better, Becca. You more than anyone. But never mind.” She turned and reached for the door, ready to rejoin her sister. “Just stay clear of this, okay? It’s not safe.”
Clara looked up at Becca then, but her person simply stood there, too stunned to respond. The little calico, meanwhile, couldn’t help but notice how the older woman’s eyes flickered under those heavy brows as she nodded once more to Becca, and then slid over to the cat who stood at her side.
“Especially with your family history,” she said.
Chapter 19
“You’ve been gone all day!” Harriet greeted Clara at the door with an eager sniff. “This is as bad as when Becca had that job of hers. We haven’t eaten since breakfast.”
“Did she spend all afternoon with that Tiger?” Laurel circled, her tail lashing with the excitement of the hunt. “Is she bringing him home soon? Are they going to his place?”
“No!” It was all Clara could do to contain her temper. “Everything’s gotten so much more complicated! You don’t understand, either of you. Ow!”
That was in response to Laurel, who had batted her ear. Harriet merely stared, affronted, her own flag of a tail flipping back and forth in annoyance.
“There’s a lot you don’t understand, runt.” Laurel was not going to forgive easily. “Especially about men and women like our pretty Becca.”