“We have Frank Cross’s financial records,” he said gently. “We have a description of the car. We knew he was in over his head.”
“But I gave you Tiger.”
“And I’m not going to prosecute you for soliciting as a private investigator without a license.”
Becca didn’t need Laurel’s suggestion to let the detective have the last word.
Chapter 39
The next few days were crazy, with phone calls and visits from Detective Abrams and his colleagues. Harriet was permanently fluffed with annoyance, and Laurel had taken to sleeping on her perch on the bookshelf, what with all the interruptions. Clara, however, kept closer to her person than ever. She’d seen the hat and remembered all too well how close she’d been to losing her. The plump calico was on the back of the sofa, nuzzling up to Becca’s neck, when Maddy came by with the news.
“They’ve found him. Tiger, that is.” Maddy held out her phone. “Your Tiger, I mean. That’s him, right?”
“Yeah.” Becca’s voice went soft as she read out loud. “That’s him—Thomas O’Hara. ‘A onetime bicycle racer, O’Hara had been disqualified for betting on his own races.’”
On the small screen, Clara could see that wide grin and the jet-black hair that fell over his eyes. Before she could examine the photo more closely, Becca let out a small cry.
“He’s dead,” she said. “Found unresponsive and later pronounced dead. Traces of the same toxic substance that have been linked to both an earlier homicide and an attempted poisoning of a potential witness were found on the victim.’” Becca looked at her friend, eyes wide. “The wolf’s bane.”
“Read on.” Maddy’s voice was grim. “They’re calling it an apparent suicide.”
“Suicide?” Becca didn’t sound convinced. “I remember what he said about his bosses. ‘Men you don’t want to cross.’”
“Either way, good riddance.”
Becca didn’t respond to that, but Clara could see how sad she was, even if her friend chose not to, and leaned in, purring. Sometimes, all you can offer is love.
***
When the carrier came out later that same day, Clara stared at it, confused. Surely, Becca didn’t think that her attentiveness, those extra cuddles and purrs, signaled something wrong. But before Clara could object, she was bundled inside the box-like contraption.
“Have fun!” Laurel looked at her through the metal grid. “Remember to howl like you’re suffering.”
“Maybe they’ll give you treats.” Harriet pushed her sister aside to stare into the case. “Maybe I should come, too.”
“Too late, Fatso.” Laurel ducked as Harriet’s big paw came swinging.
“Kitties! Cut it out!” Becca was putting on her coat. “I promise, your little sister will be back soon.”
“Like we care,” said Laurel. But Laurel, Clara was beginning to understand, talked a very different game than what she felt.
***
That realization, as well as the growing idea that perhaps her sisters were less useless than she had once thought, kept Clara distracted during the bumpy T ride that followed. Accustomed to moving freely, the little cat found the so-called cat carrier particularly uncomfortable. She knew, however, that sidling through its plastic sides to take a seat beside her person would cause more trouble than it was worth, and so she settled in as best she could, thinking about her strange deliverance as the subway rumbled along.
“Look after each other.” The voice, so warm and strangely familiar, didn’t belong to Becca. Even as her eyes closed in thought, Clara felt that to be true. Felt, as well, that Becca was part of the larger story, one that was only now being revealed. “You must all help each other to learn and to be strong.”
“Hello.” The deep male voice that broke into Clara’s reverie sounded vaguely familiar, as did the plain but friendly face that looked through the carrier’s grill.
“What happened to you, Miss Kitty?”
“Her name’s Clara.” Becca’s voice was tight with concern. “And I’m not exactly sure. I thought I saw, well…I thought maybe she had an accident, and then she was limping, so I thought I should bring her in.”
“Always better to check.” Warm hands lifted Clara out of the case and deposited her on a metal surface. “You know, if it’s an emergency, you can come in right away.”
“I know. I thought about it.” Clara glanced up, concerned. She had never meant to worry her person. To her surprise, Becca looked slightly flushed. “But I heard the hospital had a new feline specialist, and I really wanted you to see her.”
“Well, we can do some X-rays.” Those warm hands ran gently down her leg, which, by this point, barely ached. “Though she isn’t reacting like a cat ordinarily would to a break.”
“She’s very special.” The catch in her voice made Clara look up. The vet, too, apparently.
“Of course she is.” That deep voice sounded sympathetic, the brown eyes wide with concern. “Ms. Colwin? Didn’t we run into each other…I’m sorry, bad turn of phrase.”
Becca summoned a flash of a smile. “Yes, you pulled me out from under a cyclist. You told me to be careful, not that I listened. Wait…” She blinked, looking rather cat-like, Clara thought. “You’re the one—the vet who helped the homeless man.”
That smile at last, with the dimples. “Yeah, I guess I should be glad that all emergency medicine is pretty much the same.”
“They said a vet, but I figured…never mind. I spoke with him, you know. I guess he’s going to be okay.”
“I’m glad.” Silence fell as their eyes met over the cat. “I gather he was living rough,” said the vet as the moment passed. “Maybe now he’ll get some support. Speaking of which…”
While the two humans had been speaking, Clara had stood and begun to explore the metal table. Sure enough, her leg now took her weight without any pain at all. Tail up and ears erect, she stood at the table’s end, looking from the vet to her person.
“Mew,” she ventured.
Chapter 40
“Frank Cross was mobbed up.” Becca’s bombshell elicited the expected gasp from Marcia, who sat back and stared, wide-eyed, at her host.
Ande, however, seemed unnaturally involved with the tea, fussing with the measurements as if they were rocket science.
“Ande, you knew?” Becca reached out to still her friend’s hands.
“I told you what I could.” She looked up, her face sad. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know for sure, and I didn’t want any trouble. I told you I wasn’t doing his books anymore.”
“I thought that was because he acted inappropriately.” Becca bit her lip. “Gaia said he was in league with some sleazy guys, and all the while Margaret kept insisting he worked alone. I should have figured it out.”
“You’re not psychic.” A trace of a smile lit up her dark eyes. “Even if you are a fine witch detective.”
“Yeah, but I thought…” Becca fondled the lapis pendant. “I guess I should trust my instincts more, and the magic less.”
“Man, this doesn’t look good for Charm and Cherish.” Marcia had recovered, though her eyes were still saucer-wide.
“No.” Ande’s voice was firm. “I made very sure that the store’s accounts were not involved with Frank’s. Money went out to him for his allowance, but that was it.”
“That’s good news.” Becca looked from one friend to the other, a grin spread across her face. “Because I’ve taken a part-time job there. Elizabeth insisted, and, honestly, I can use a regular income. She seems to think I have real potential—as a sales girl at least.”
Becca shrugged, and Clara looked from her to her sisters. The gray-haired woman had implied more than that, she knew. And for once, the little cat wanted her person to believe. Becca was good at what she did. She had figured out that Tiger was involved before her pet had. More to the point, there was more to their shared history than Clara had ever before considered.