“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 y
ou?”
“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.
“I have something to show you,” he said. “I went to the bakery, but you’d already left.”
“What is it?”
“You have to see it in person. I’d bring it over to you, but I don’t know where you live.”
I gave him my address, and twenty minutes later he was at my door.
“Are you done with work for the day?” I asked him.
“I’m on call. My job is like that. Anyway, I went to that specialty grocery store that just opened on Fifth Street. They have an amazing deli. The egg salad has lots of mayo, and the tuna salad is full of celery.”
“I know the store you’re talking about. They make their own terrine out of olives and baloney. It’s awesome.”
“Yeah, so I’m in there, and I’m walking around and what do I see? Lizzy’s Cookies! I’m sure you know all about this, but I was excited. These are my favorite cookies. Mint chocolate chip.” He handed me a bag. “And now I can buy them at the grocery store!”
I pulled a packet of cookies out of the bag. They had the Ammon Enterprises logo on them. In small black letters under the large black and gold logo it said LIZZY’S COOKIES. I opened the packet and tried one.
“This is great,” I said. “These are my cookies all right.”
Except I didn’t feel great. I felt deflated. Like someone had let all the air out of my balloon. I’d given away my cookie recipe to a man who was trying to turn into a demon. I read the ingredients label. Red dye number seventeen and something I couldn’t pronounce. If I stabbed myself in the eye with the butcher knife it would be less painful.
“There were a bunch of other Lizzy’s Cookies there, too, but I only bought these,” Nergal said. “They were pricey, and coroners don’t make all that much money.”
I led him into the kitchen, cracked open a bottle of red wine, and poured out two glasses. I heard the front door open and close, Carl raced in, and Diesel followed.
“Theodore brought me cookies,” I told Diesel.
“They’re Lizzy’s Cookies,” Nergal said. “I found them in the grocery store.”
Diesel took a cookie from the bag and ate it. “Yep, they’re Lizzy’s Cookies all right.” He looked over at me. “No wonder you’re drinking.”
“We’re celebrating,” I said.
Diesel grinned. “I bet.”
Nergal’s phone buzzed with a text message.
“Jeez,” he said. “They’re dropping like flies today. I have to go.”
I added a couple of my chocolate peanut butter chip cookies to his bag and handed it back to him. “Thanks for stopping by to show this to me,” I said. “We’ll have to get together sometime when you’re not on call.”
“Yeah, that would be great,” Nergal said. “I bet you have all sorts of fun stories about your adventures to save the world and everything.”
I closed the door after him and drained my wine glass. “He’s going to get another text tonight,” I said to Diesel, “because I’m going to kill Ammon.”
“Ammon didn’t waste any time getting these cookies into production.”
“They have artificial ingredients! He added coloring and preservatives.”
“No one will notice. The writing on the bag was very small. It’s the American way.”
“It’s not the American way. The American way is to have quality and purity.”
Diesel refilled my wine glass. “I like your thinking,” he said. “What’s for dinner?”
“Steak and potatoes.”
“I really like your thinking.”
I went to the kitchen, turned the oven on, and put the potatoes in.
“Would you still like me if I couldn’t cook?”
“Yeah, you’re cute. Cooking is the icing on the cupcake.”
“Okay, suppose I wasn’t cute. Suppose I was fat and ugly. Would you like me then?”
“Let me get this straight. You can’t cook and you’re fat and ugly?”
“Yeah.”
“Are you mean?”
“No. I’m nice.”
I put an onion on the chopping block and started to slice it.
“What about special talents?” he asked. “Are you good in bed? Can you give a deep-tissue massage?”
“Good grief.”
“I’m just trying to get a grip on this,” Diesel said. “Suppose the situation was reversed, and I was fat and ugly. Would you still like me?”
“Half the time I don’t even like you now.”
“I get that, but what about the other half?”
“I don’t know. What are your skills? Can you give a deep-tissue massage?”
“Honey, I’m going so deep on you tonight I might not be able to find my way out.”
I almost sliced my finger off.
“Looks like you nicked yourself,” Diesel said. “Want me to kiss it and make it better?”
“No! I want you to go into the living room and watch television with Carl. I’ll call you when dinner is ready.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
The dinner dishes were in the dishwasher, the kitchen was clean, and we were watching a ball game drag on between the Red Sox and the Mets. Diesel stood and stretched. When he stretched he raised his arms and his T-shirt rode up giving me a glimpse of tanned, perfectly defined abs. I’d seen them before, plus a lot more, but it didn’t matter…it was always good.
“Do you need anything from the kitchen?” he asked.
“Nope, I’m okay,” I said.
Diesel ambled off and Rutherford called me.
“I found it! I found the stone. I know it’s the stone because it’s in the leather pouch. It was buried under an azalea bush. How soon can we get the treasure moved back to the vault?”
“I’ll need at least a couple hours to gather it together. I’ll call you when we can arrange the transfer.”
“Remember, we need to do this before Mr. Ammon is released from the hospital.”
“No problem. I’ll get back to you later tonight.”
Diesel returned to the living room with a couple cookies. “What’s up?”
“Rutherford found the stone. He wants to make the trade tonight so everything is in place when Ammon leaves the hospital tomorrow morning.”
“Call Clara and ask her to bring the van to Gramps’s garage.”
—
Clara was waiting for us when we pulled up to the garage. The van was parked inside.
“We have a problem,” Clara said. “Follow me.”
We entered the tunnel through the garage and walked the short distance to the speakeasy. The door was open and Gramps was inside, s
itting in one of the comfy club chairs.
“Howdy,” Gramps said. “Welcome to my rumpus room.”
We looked around and immediately saw the problem. The treasure was gone. Only one plastic bin was left.
“What happened to all the bins?” I asked.
“Got rid of them,” Gramps said. “They were taking up too much space. Kept the one that had the pretty green jar in it.”
“Where’d the bins go?” I asked him.
“I gave them to the Pirate Museum. They had a fire and lost a lot of stuff. Terrible. The pirate ship burned up and everything. The junk in the bins looked like pirate loot, so I handed it over. Pirates are my second favorite thing. When I gave all that junk over to the museum people they said they were going to name a room after me. Can you imagine that? I’m going to be famous.”
Diesel was back on his heels, smiling. “Easy come, easy go,” he said.
“What are we going to do about Rutherford?” I asked him.
“We’ll give Gramps the pretty green jar and give the rest of the bin to Rutherford,” Diesel said. “If he doesn’t want to hand over the stone we’ll jump him and take it.”
“Suppose he has a bunch of armed men with him?”
“We’ll wait until he’s alone, and then we’ll jump him.”
“Okay,” I said. “I like it.”
I called Rutherford and told him to meet us at the front entrance to the bank building Ammon owned.
“Excellent,” Rutherford said. “This is a wonderful plan. A lifesaver. Ha-ha. Literally. Ha-ha.”
I disconnected and turned to Diesel. “He’s losing it. He did two of those awful ha-ha laughs. Two. There was definitely hysteria involved.”
“With good reason.”
We loaded the single bin into Clara’s van and drove to the bank building.
“Keep the motor running, and if I give you the sign you take off,” Diesel said to Clara. “Lizzy has to verify that we’ve actually got the Avaritia Stone before we hand over what’s left of the treasure.”
We sat there at idle for ten minutes before a black Escalade drove up, and Rutherford got out followed by two men in suits. The street was dark, lit by pools of light from streetlights. Rutherford stood at the building’s front door, and the two men stayed by the car. Diesel and I got out of the van and crossed the street.
Wicked Charms: A Lizzy and Diesel Novel Page 19
