The hospital lobby, however, was not a safe place for a small creature. Although Becca was standing by the door, Clara soon realized that she needed to take cover. The same craft that enabled her to virtually disappear could all too easily cause even the most careful pet lover to trip over the little feline. So after the third near collision, Clara scooted over to a bench that ran along the window. She might not be able to hear everything that Becca said from here, but she could keep an eye on her and keep herself safe.
“Watch it!”
Clara whirled at the unmistakable hiss. “Laurel?”
A slow blink made the almond-shaped blue eyes disappear and then appear again in the shadow by the bench’s legs. “I was wondering when you’d have the sense to get out of the way.”
“What are you doing here?” This was the second time Laurel had surprised her, and as much as she welcomed her sister’s assistance, Clara had to admit the sealpoint’s sudden appearance had unnerved her.
“What aren’t you doing is more like it.” Laurel’s distinctive voice wound her own question up into a caterwaul, and Clara looked around in concern. “Oh, don’t be such a clown, Clara! You think these people can even hear themselves think?”
That stopped her, and she looked toward where her sister’s shadow could be seen as a vaguely lighter area against the bench. “Laurel, can you hear what Becca’s thinking? The way she was staring at her phone has me a little concerned.”
The eyes went wide in mock surprise. “But I thought you didn’t want me listening in on Becca. Now this is interesting…”
“Please, Laurel.” Clara was at a loss to explain. “Something is going on, and I’m worried.”
“Why don’t you just go back out there?” Her sister blinked, her shade retreating into the darkness. “And listen for yourself?”
Sure enough, Clara saw, Becca was no longer staring at her phone. Instead, she held it up to her ear. But even feline senses were no match for the cacophony of the lobby, and so Clara made her way back to her person, darting around a family of four and a large man on crutches to stand as close to Becca’s feet as she could without touching.
“Detective Abrams, please.” She kept walking, the phone up to her ear. “It’s Becca Colwin returning his call. Calls, I guess. He’s…what? He’s looking for me? I’m—no, you don’t have to pick me up. I’m going to Charm and Cherish. I should be there in about fifteen minutes. If he can meet me there, I expect to have something to show him.”
Chapter 37
Clara looked around for her sister, but Laurel’s blue eyes didn’t peer back from under the bench. When the calico’s sensitive nose failed to catch any hint of another feline in the crowded foyer, she realized her sister had slipped away without her.
For one awful moment, Clara thought Becca had, too. Then she saw her person on the sidewalk and with a leap made it through the glass of the front window to land on the sidewalk beside her. But even had Clara not been shaded, Becca might not have noticed the sudden appearance of her pet beside her. As she walked through the small crowd of a taxi line, Clara’s person seemed to be focusing on another world. Almost, the cat thought, as if she could see the unseen.
Could it be? As recently as a week before, the little cat would have thought this to be impossible. As much as Becca wanted to have magical powers, such abilities were solely the province of cats, or so the little calico had always believed. And although Becca’s research had brought her perilously close to the truth about her ancestors—those brave women who assisted their felines in the application of the craft—her approach was all wrong. As much as she loved the three littermates she’d adopted, Becca still viewed them merely as pets, rather than guides and teachers, a mistake that Clara had blithely assumed doomed any attempts at magic to failure.
In the last few days, however, Clara had found some of her core beliefs about her beloved person, and about her own powers, to be challenged. She simply didn’t know.
To be on the safe side, Clara kept herself cloaked as she tagged along after her person. Although they had cleared the crowd immediately outside the hospital, the little cat was concerned. Becca seemed to be lost in thought, oblivious to the city around her. Trotting alongside her person, Clara saw that she was frowning, her sweet face intent on something beyond the little cat’s perception. But since Clara could not smell any predators in the immediate vicinity, all she could do was fret over what was occupying her person so.
Hearing, however, was different. Clara was a city cat, and from her earliest days in the shelter she had become accustomed to the sounds of people and their machines. As a reasonable creature, she had an aversion to cars, and thus she was grateful when Becca turned down a residential street. She had a sense of where her person was heading—the store where she had asked that big detective to meet her was not that far away, especially if she took the bus from Harvard Square. Still, she stuck close by Becca’s feet.
As they turned down another corner, Clara realized that Becca was retracing her path of the other day, when she and the bike messenger had walked to the nearby square. This route was not only quieter, it was, Clara suspected, what her person would term a “shortcut,” a very human concept, but one that she accepted as her person’s choice.
As one tree-lined block followed another, Clara began to relax. The roar of the city’s traffic never totally disappeared, but as she trotted alongside Becca, she could hear other sounds that recalled different times. A bird sang somewhere unseen, and two squirrels squabbled over the first of the season’s acorns. In such a setting, the click of a bicycle gear merited no more than the flick of an ear. The squeak of a brake, though, that caused the cat to turn, as a sudden whiff of a familiar scent made her fur begin to rise.
“Becca!” The voice, friendly if a bit breathless, startled Clara’s person, who whirled around with a gasp.
“Sorry.” He smiled as he jumped off his bike and walked it up to her. He reached to embrace her and Becca almost tripped as she scrambled out of reach. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“Tiger! Goddess bless.” Those were strong words for Becca, and for a moment Clara worried that her person had fallen harder than her pet knew. Only, there was a note in Becca’s voice that Clara couldn’t place. What was her person thinking? “It’s Gaia. I think she’s in trouble,” she started to explain, her face clouded with worry.
“Gaia?” He stepped back, considering.
“Yeah, I came by to talk to her. Only she left with someone, and, well, I’m heading over to meet with the police now.” Becca could have been talking to herself, she seemed so preoccupied. “But I think you were right. I think maybe Elizabeth was behind the poisoning.”
“I knew it.” Tiger nodded, a grim half smile spreading across his face. “I bet they’ll tie the poison in with Frank’s death, too.”
“That’s right.” Becca looked up at him. “You said Frank was poisoned from the start. Back before any of us had heard anything.”
She paused ever so briefly, lost in thought, and began to walk once more, heading, Clara knew, into the square. “Before Gaia had heard anything, come to think of it. Although, didn’t you say Gaia knew he had a bad heart?”
“Yeah, she did.” His face was unreadable as he walked beside her, rolling his bike by his side. “I remember her telling me. She must’ve forgot.”
“Funny thing for her to forget.” Becca could have been addressing the bricks of the sidewalk. “Come to think of it, you knew about Gaia being poisoned before anyone else, too.”