Becca’s silence acted like catnip on the black-clad shop girl.
“Okay, a few things have gone missing.” The goth girl shrugged and turned once more to eye her visitor. “Not that we have any big-ticket items here. I mean, unless you count the gong.”
“Shoplifters?”
A tilt of her head made those ear studs flash. “Someone grabbed something out of the window. I think that’s what happened, anyway.”
“I see.” Becca’s tone was soft, but Clara was heartened to hear the suspicion underlying those two words. “Someone took something?”
Another shrug. “I think. It wasn’t a big deal.”
Becca paused, cataloging the theft—or the other woman’s sudden reluctance to discuss it—and moved on, her hand creeping to the pendant in the hollow of her throat. “Well, then, if you don’t think anyone has been in here, I have to ask. Looking at all those jars…is there any chance that maybe…I mean, so many of those roots look alike…”
“You think I nearly poisoned myself?” The other woman’s eyes went wide. “You mean, by accident, right?”
Becca didn’t respond, and Clara knew she was weighing the possibilities. The cat couldn’t imagine why a human would choose to make herself sick. Then again, Laurel had eaten a moth once, with disturbing results, and Harriet had no problem coughing up furballs with amazing regularity.
“People make mistakes.” Becca’s response, when it finally came, was phrased to sound perfectly noncommittal.
“Not possible. I know what wolf’s bane looks like.” The woman behind the counter turned again, taking in the various botanicals. “We don’t even have it here. I mean, why would we?”
“Wolf’s bane does have medicinal uses,” Becca pointed out. “You said so yourself.”
“And it can also be used for harm,” Gaia shot back. “You know the rule.”
A nod from Becca. “An ye harm none, do what ye will,” she recited. “But that doesn’t mean botanicas and purveyors to the craft don’t stock it.”
“We don’t.” Gaia was firm. “I do all the buying. Well, with Margaret, Margaret Cross. She’s the owner.”
Becca’s face fell and Clara knew why. The kind-hearted girl didn’t want to think that the older woman was behind the attempted poisoning—or the attempted cover up. Still, she rallied as she recalled the initial reason for her visit. Finally, she had her opening.
“Of course,” she said, and leaned forward, as if about to impart a secret. “Actually, I’m really here to see Margaret. Is she available?”
“You know Margaret?” A quizzical lift of one pierced brow. But as Becca fumbled for an answer, Gaia provided her own. “Oh, yeah, you must have gotten her okay to post your notice. She’s not—I haven’t seen her or her crazy sister at all today. But is there something I can help you with?”
“No.” Becca bit her lip, which she always did when she was thinking. Clara did her best to still her tail, which threatened to lash in anticipation, and watched, waiting to see what her person would do. “It’s personal, to be honest. Do you know how I can reach her?”
“I have her cell number.” Gaia pulled open a drawer beneath the register.
“So do I,” Becca admitted. “She’s not answering.”
“That’s curious.” Gaia leaned back, her hands still on the drawer. “Usually, she’s on top of everything. In everything, I should say. The woman has no boundaries.”
Something about Becca’s expression must have given her thoughts away, because Gaia’s eyes went wide. “You don’t think she’s…the wolf’s bane,” she said, her voice growing breathless.
“You mean that maybe she got her hands on some? And that maybe somehow, by mistake maybe…” Becca’s voice went high and tight, as Clara knew it did when she was about to lie, or almost lie. “Would you have any reason to suspect her?”
“Any reason, such as that she has accused you of embezzling.” Clara provided the missing words. “Accused you of stealing from the register you have your hands on?”
“Suspect?” Gaia tilted her head, looking for all the world like Laurel at her most quizzical. “Why would she…no, that’s not what I meant.”
Becca and Clara both waited as the other woman shook her head. “I just mean, well, if she’s not answering, and she’s not here. Maybe it wasn’t just me. Maybe someone has tried to poison her, too.”
Chapter 6
“Let’s not panic.” Becca put out her hands in a calming gesture as Gaia tensed, ready to run from behind the counter. “There’s no reason to jump to conclusions here.”
“But you don’t know.” The counter girl sounded breathless, gulping her words like air. “I mean, we share mugs. I brew a big pot of tea first thing in the day…maybe it wasn’t meant for me. Maybe Margaret…”
“Please calm down.” Becca spoke softly but firmly, like one would to a panicked kitten. She couldn’t be about to share her suspicions, could she? Clara wondered, when Becca responded with a question of her own. “What was your last interaction with her?”
“Like I said, I spoke to her this morning. She called right before I took my break. She wanted to confirm my schedule.”
Becca listened without comment, and Clara didn’t need Laurel’s powers to know why. The older woman had probably checked in to make sure her staffer was going to be in the store before she visited Becca. That didn’t seem to be information Becca was ready to share with her younger client, though. “And you haven’t heard from her since?”
“No.” Gaia sucked her lips. “But, well, you know I took a kind of long-ish break to go see you. And then, well, I was so upset that I felt a bit light-headed and I thought, maybe, some lunch…”
“Who covered the shop while you were out?” Becca interrupted what was clearly going to be a chain of excuses.
“Nobody,” the woman said, like it should have been obvious. “It’s not like we have this huge staff or anything. In fact, it’s pretty much just me and Margaret’s nutty sister Elizabeth. But she just flits in and out. I don’t think Margaret pays her. She’s always complaining about money, and I know she pays me little enough. That’s why I figured, well, if I needed to take some time off…”
“So, Elizabeth didn’t cover for you?” Becca tilted her head, looking for all the world like Laurel when the Siamese was trying to figure something out.
“No, I put up a sign, saying that we’d be open again in an hour. I mean, maybe it was closer to two hours. But, you know, who knows when anyone came by? Because if they came by an hour after I left, then it was only…”
“So the shop was closed.” Becca might have been thinking out loud, but her words cut the other woman off.
“Uh-huh.” She acknowledged. “You think maybe she came by?”
“I don’t know.” Becca turned, taking in the crowded shelves, with their books and bric-a-brac. “Did it look like anything had changed when you came back?”
A slow shake of that jet-black bob showed the other woman’s confusion. “Do you think someone broke in?”
“I’m not sure.” Becca spoke slowly. “I was trying to reach Margaret because, well, something was bothering her.” As she spoke, she began to walk around the store. She picked up a candle and turned it toward her, noting its blackened wick. “Do you usually light these?”
“Me? No.” The idea was met with a grimace. “I don’t want to have to shell out eighteen bucks for that.”
Becca flicked the darkened wick, her finger settling on the shallow cavity surrounding it. “Someone has.”
She moved on to the display of Tarot cards. “Was this pack open?” She turned back to Gaia. “Maybe as a display model?”
“What?” Gaia was by her side faster than Clara could pounce, scooping up the open cards. “No, well, maybe. We do let customers look at the cards. I mean, if they seem serious. In fact, maybe that candle…”