Wicked Charms (23 page)

Diesel waited for the waitress to leave before looking over at me. “Call Nergal and see what the deal is with Ammon. I’m sure he’s tapped in to hospital gossip.”

“Why can’t you make the call?”

“Nergal thinks you’re cute,” Diesel said. “He’s more likely to do something unpleasant for you.”

This was obnoxious but probably true.

“Hey,” I said when Nergal picked up.

“Let me guess,” Nergal said. “You want to know about Martin Ammon.”

“Yes! How did you know that?”

“
Everyone
wants to know. My
mother
called me.”

“Is he dead?”

“No. He’s in a private room with some idiot in a suit standing guard at his door.”

“Does he think he’s a dog?”

“A what?”

“Dog. Like, is he barking or anything?”

“I haven’t heard anything about barking. The information I got is that they’re keeping him here overnight for observation. He has a concussion.”

“Nothing unusual?”

“There’s a rumor going around that he was covered in pink rabbit fur when he was brought in, but that’s about it.”

I thanked Nergal and relayed the information to Diesel.

“So the stone isn’t on Ammon, and it’s not with Rutherford, and it’s not in the vault,” Diesel said. “My second-best guess would be the Marblehead house.”

“I see where this is going, and I’m not searching the Marblehead house until I’ve had my ice cream.”

“You can take your time with the ice cream,” Diesel said. “I think it will be just about impossible to search the Marblehead house without the distraction of a party and a fire. We’re going to have to find a way to make the stone come to us.”

“That shouldn’t be difficult. Ammon will get out of the hospital and retrieve the stone. All we have to do is snatch Ammon and rip the stone out of his demon hands.”

“Yeah. Why didn’t I think of that?”

“Or we could snatch Rutherford,” I said. “He probably helped hide the stone.”

“Even better.”

The waitress brought our food, and we stopped talking and concentrated on eating.

“Anything else?” she asked when we were done.

“Ice cream,” I said.

“We have vanilla, chocolate, strawberry, coffee, tutti-frutti, butter pecan, and chocolate chip.”

“Yes,” I said. “That’s what I want.”

“Which one?”

“All of them.”

Twenty minutes later Diesel was slouched in the booth, smiling at me. “You ate all that ice cream,” he said. “Impressive.”

“Yeah, but I’m feeling sick.”

“My original plan was to have you lure Rutherford away from the hospital tonight, so you could sweet-talk the information out of him. I’m thinking that just went out the window.”

Upchucking tutti-frutti seemed like an okay trade-off to sweet-talking Rutherford. He wasn’t as evil as Ammon, but he creeped me out. All that smiling and good cheer and the
ha-ha
laughing made me want to kick him in the knee. Not to mention, I was pretty sure I lacked the sweet-talking gene.

“I need to go home and lie down or throw up or something,” I said.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

It was five in the morning, I was at the bakery, and so far my day was looking good. I had woken up to a house that felt relatively normal. Just Cat and me in the velvety darkness. Diesel had patched my doors the night before, so they would at least stay closed. He promised to get me new ones today. My kitchen felt welcoming when I switched the light on. No sign of Mammon. No Rutherford. No Wulf.

Clara bustled in and went to her workbench. “Four dozen cupcakes for Mr. Dooley today,” she said.

“Four dozen cupcakes coming up.”

She looked over at me. “Have you heard any more about Ammon?”

“So far as I know he’s in the hospital with a concussion.”

“You seem very chipper today.”

“I know. I woke up feeling terrific, and everything has been perfect this morning. Perfect coffee. Perfect toasted bagel. Every light was green on the way to work.” I gave up a huge sigh of contentment. “It’s going to be a good day.”

Glo showed up a couple hours later. She was all in black, including lipstick and nail polish.

“You look like goth girl,” I said to her.

“I’m in mourning. The 8 Ball died.”

“Gee, that’s awful,” I said. “Sorry.”

“Yeah, condolences,” Clara said.

“I sort of expected it,” Glo said. “He’d been leaking for a while. And to tell you the truth, I’m not so sure he was magical. Still, it’s sad. I paid two bucks for that 8 Ball. You’d think for that kind of money he would have lasted longer.”

Glo took a tray of almond croissants out to the shop and unlocked the front door. Jennie Bell came in for a blueberry muffin, and Mrs. Kuzak bought a loaf of rye. I moved on to cookie dough, and I heard Nergal’s voice at the counter.

“Hey,” Glo yelled back to me. “Guess who’s here?”

Nergal smiled and gave me a finger wave when I came to the counter.

“I felt like a cupcake this morning,” he said.

“Red velvet?” I asked him.

“Yes. I’ll take two. And a lemon chiffon.”

“Wow, you must be having a good day.”

“A suicide, an accidental overdose, a gang-related shooting, and Quentin Devereaux was found on the side of a road. And it’s only nine in the morning.”

I gave Nergal his three cupcakes in a little box and pulled him aside. “Tell me about Devereaux.”

“He was gutted, but all of his organs had been shoved back in. And that wasn’t the way he died. It happened some time after death.”

“His last thoughts?”

“ ‘Be sure to drink your Ovaltine.’ ” Nergal gave me his credit card. “Sometimes last thoughts don’t make a lot of sense.”

I gave the card back to him. “No charge for the cupcakes,” I said. “I owed them to you.”

“Thanks. It was nice seeing you again. Let me know if you ever want to see an autopsy or go out to dinner or something.”

I returned to my cookie making and was about to slide the first tray into the oven when Rutherford knocked politely on the side door, and let himself in.

“It’s gone,” he said. “Poof! Gone!”

He was pacing back and forth, wringing his hands. Everything was perfectly ironed and in place. His hair was slicked down. His pants had a razor-sharp crease. His tie was expertly tied. His expression was sheer panic.

“I went to check on our guest, Mr. Hatchet, last night. I had to make sure he had enough oxygen, and he wasn’t there.
Nothing
was there! The door was locked. The vault was locked, but nothing was there. How could that happen? I went back this morning to see if anything had changed, but it hasn’t. It’s all gone.”

“And?” I asked.

Rutherford stopped pacing. “It had to be magic. There’s no other explanation. Mr. Ammon and I were the only ones who knew the combination. Mr. Ammon is in the hospital. He’s hooked up to tubes and things. He never left. And I’m pretty sure it wasn’t me who opened the vault. I guess I could have had a moment, but I don’t think that’s it.”

“You think it’s magic?”

“Yes. So of course I thought of you and your friend. She could have put a spell on the vault.”

“Did the vault growl at you?”

“No.”

“Then it wasn’t Glo.”

“I see your point,” Rutherford said. “Then it must have been Mr. Hatchet. He clearly has a strong magical component.” More pacing. “This is very bad. Mr. Ammon is in the hospital. The Prince of Avarice is waiting at the threshold. And I’ve failed them. This happened on my watch. They’re going to be very disappointed in me.”

Glo had come into the kitchen. “What happens when they’re disappointed?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” Rutherford said. “I’ve never disappointed them at this level. This is big. I think something catastrophic might happen. Biblical even.”

“Wow,” Glo said. “Biblical is huge!”

Rutherford nodded. “I would prefer to avoid it.”

“I can ask Hatchet,” I said. “I might be able to talk him into making a deal.”

Rutherford looked like he might explode with happiness. “Really? What kind of deal?” He leaned forward and whispered at me. “I would be willing to do anything.
Anything.
”

“That covers a lot of ground,” Clara said.

“Would you have something to trade for the treasure?” I asked Rutherford.

“I have a car. It’s a Ford. Very reliable.”

“Hatchet might not care about a car. Hatchet lives to serve his master, Wulf. He would want something that would make Wulf happy. It would have to be something unique. Something Wulf might desire.”

“Gosh, I don’t know,” Rutherford said. “I’ve never had the pleasure of meeting Wulf.”

“What about the stone?” I said to Rutherford. “It’s not nearly as valuable as the treasure, but Wulf might like it.”

“The Avaritia Stone? The Stone of Avarice? The stone that will set Mammon free?”

“You don’t really believe all that, do you?” I asked him.

“I don’t know. Mr. Ammon believes it.”

“Yes, but so far it hasn’t done squat for him. I mean, let’s face it, it’s just a stone.”

“Maybe.”

“Do you know where the stone is hidden?”

“Not exactly. We put it in a safe place, but it isn’t there anymore. I think Mr. Ammon re-hid it.”

“Do you know where he re-hid it?”

“I have my suspicions.”

“Which are?”

Rutherford smiled his big, wide Rutherford smile. “Lately, since Mr. Ammon is…sometimes doglike, he likes to dig in the flower beds at Cupiditas.”

My first reaction was to burst out laughing, but I checked it and simply nodded at Rutherford. “If you could find the stone I think I might be able to get the treasure back into the vault before Ammon realizes it was stolen.”

“Oh wow,” Rutherford said. “That would be amazing. That would make Mr. Ammon very happy.”

“And the Prince of Avarice,” Glo said. “He’d be happy, too.”

“Yes, yes,” Rutherford said. “It would be excellent. The Prince of Avarice is very big on treasure.”

I gave Rutherford a chocolate cupcake and ushered him out the door. “Let me know when you find the stone, and I’ll get in touch with Hatchet.”

“Thank you so much,” Rutherford said. “Thank you. Thank you.”

“Pretty slick,” Clara said when I closed the door on Rutherford.

“It’s not a given that he can find the stone,” I said.

Clara went back to bagging the fresh bread. “He’ll have every member of Ammon’s household staff out there digging up the garden.”

—

Diesel strolled in at noon.

“I got word on Ammon,” he said. “He’s still in the hospital. They were going to release him, but they found him drinking out of the toilet bowl and decided the concussion was more serious than they’d originally thought. So he’s there for another day.”

I told him about Rutherford, and Diesel grinned.

“Good work,” Diesel said.

“We’ll see,” I told him. “There’s no guarantee that Ammon buried the stone.”

“True, but it’ll give Rutherford something to do.” Diesel helped himself to a cookie. “I have a small job to do for the Exalted One, but I’ll be back for dinner.”

“Who’s the Exalted One?”

“My boss.”

“Does he have a name?”

“Sidney.”

“Last name?”

“I don’t know his last name.”

He gave me a kiss on the top of my head and walked out of the shop.

“I see what you mean about this being a good day,” Clara said when Diesel left. “If he kissed me I’d think it was a good day, too.”

I finished up a batch of cookies, cleaned my workstation, and headed for home. I stopped at the store and got steak and baking potatoes for dinner. I rolled into my house a little after three.

Rutherford knocked on my back door ten minutes later. “So sorry to bother you,” he said. “I thought you would want to know that we’re planning to bring Mr. Ammon home late tomorrow morning. He seems much improved.”

“Not drinking out of the toilet bowl anymore?”

“Ha-ha. No, no. None of that, I’m happy to report.” He looked over my shoulder at the food on the counter. “Steak and baked potatoes. Excellent choice for a meal. I see you’re expecting a guest.”

“Diesel.”

“Of course. I imagine he more or less lives here.”

“More or less.”

Rutherford clasped his hands together and went serious. “About the treasure. Have you located it? Is a trade actually possible?”

“Yes and yes.”

He looked around. “I don’t suppose you have it here?”

“No. I’m just a go-between.”

“Of course again.”

“Have you found the stone?” I asked him.

“Ah, that’s the thing. It seems that without your special ability, all stones look alike. We have, in fact, found many stones that are the appropriate size. Unfortunately, I don’t know if any of them are the stone. I was wondering if you would come out to the car to examine the rock collection.”

“You brought them with you?”

“It seemed like the least I could do since you’re helping me get the treasure back. I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you any more than is necessary.”

A black Cadillac Escalade was parked at the curb. The back gate was open and two suited henchmen stood on either side of the SUV. I peeked inside at three boxes of rocks.

“That’s a lot of rocks,” I said to Rutherford.

“There are a lot of flower beds.”

I put my hand to the rocks one by one. None of them were empowered.

“Sorry,” I said.

“I don’t suppose you would want to give me the treasure anyway?” Rutherford said.

“I don’t have it. Someone else has it.”

“Someone who wants a stone.”

“Yes.”

“Couldn’t you give them one of these?”

“I don’t think that would work out.”

Rutherford packed up and left, and I returned to my house, where Cat was waiting.

“No luck,” I said to Cat. “They were all just plain old rocks.”

Cat looked at me with his one eye, thought about it for a beat, and gave his foot a lick.

“Well, I had to look,” I said to Cat. “You never know. The stone could have been there.”

Cat looked like he didn’t think so.

I stashed the food in the fridge, and Nergal called on my cellphone.