Wicked Business

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Diesel parked and we all trooped into my house and went to the kitchen. Cat 7143 and Carl sat back on their haunches on the kitchen counter, and I stood near while Diesel took the Motion Machine out of his backpack and set it on my work island.

“I had to partially disassemble it to get it into my backpack,” Diesel said, “but it was simple. Monroe designed this to be taken apart and put back together.”

It was a simple contraption composed of four wooden dowels stuck into a rectangular mahogany base. There was a crosspiece between two dowels at one end, and another crosspiece between the two dowels at the other end. A dowel ran lengthwise between the two cross dowels, and a silver ball and four silver bells hung from piano wire attached to the long dowel. The idea was to set the ball in motion so that it rang the first bell, the first bell rang the second bell, the second bell rang the third bell, and the third bell rang the last bell.

We examined every piece of the machine while Diesel reassembled it, but we couldn’t find a message.

“It’s all together,” Diesel said, securing the last dowel. “Let’s see how it works.”

He set the silver ball in motion, it hit the first bell with a pretty ding, the first bell hit the second bell with a lower-register dong, the second bell hit the third bell with a muffled kunk, and the third bell hit the fourth bell, producing another pretty chime.

“The third bell doesn’t ring,” I said.

Diesel got a soda from the refrigerator. “You try it.”

I set the ball in motion and got the same result. The third bell didn’t ring, and no magic message appeared. I touched each of the bells and got heat and vibration from only the third bell.

“The third bell is definitely charged with a different energy,” I said. “We just have to figure out how to set it free.”

“Maybe we need Glo,” Diesel said.

I called Glo, asked her to come over, and I made grilled cheese sandwiches while we waited. We stood in the kitchen eating our sandwiches, taking turns with Monroe’s Motion Machine.

“It’s clever,” I said.

“It would be even more clever if it gave us the next clue.”

“Someone, probably Lovey, had a very unique talent.”

Diesel finished his sandwich and put his plate into the dishwasher. “I don’t know of anyone today who can duplicate this. These objects were programmed to respond to a basic personality characteristic, like believing in true love. Or in the case of the church bells, to respond to a specific tone played in a prescribed order. That’s very different from spewing out enough energy to bend a spoon or open a lock.”

“It’s magic.”

“Magic is something you don’t understand and can’t explain. But yeah, it’s magic,” Diesel said.

Cat ate half a grilled cheese sandwich, got bored with the machine, and padded off to look for a spot to nap. Carl stayed fascinated. He was still intently watching the machine when Glo came into the kitchen.

“I know this machine,” she said. “They have one exactly like it in a glass case in the Science Museum.” Her eyes got wide. “Omigosh, this is it, isn’t it? You snitched this from the museum.”

“It accidentally got into Diesel’s backpack,” I told her. “I think there’s a clue attached to the third bell, but we can’t get it to appear. We thought it might work for you.”

Glo set the silver ball in motion and three of the bells sang out, but the third bell only made the soft kunk sound. We closely watched the bells for a sign, but nothing happened.

“The history of Tichy persuades when innocence prevails,” Diesel said.

Glo giggled. “Guess I flunked that test. It’s hard to stay innocent when you’re on the hunt for true love.”

“In this case, I don’t think he was equating innocence with abstinence,” Diesel said.

I made Glo a grilled cheese, and she tried Monroe’s machine a couple more times, but it was always the same.

“I have to go,” Glo said. “I’m meeting the bellringer for coffee tonight instead of tomorrow.”

“Thanks for coming over. Sorry to make you go out of your way for nothing.”

“No problemo,” Glo said. “I was going into Boston anyway, and I got a grilled cheese out of it.”

I walked her to the door, waved her off, and went into the living room to watch television with Diesel. I settled next to him on the couch, and I heard the bells chime in the kitchen.

“Carl!” Diesel yelled. “Knock it off with the bell machine. That’s museum property.”

“I heard four different bells,” I said to Diesel.

He hit the mute button on the television.

Ding, dong, dong, ding.

“He never listens to me,” Diesel said. “It’s like pissing into the wind.”

I was on my feet. “Four bells.”

We went into the kitchen and watched Carl. He was enthralled with the game, swinging the silver ball, fascinated that it would make the bells chime.

“This is the innocent?” Diesel asked. “A monkey? Are you kidding me? And it’s not just any monkey. It’s my evil monkey.”

Carl kept his attention on the Motion Machine, but he gave Diesel the finger.

“He isn’t exactly evil,” I said.

Diesel looked over at him. “He’s in the ballpark.”

Ding, dong, dong, ding.

“There’s writing on the third bell,” I said to Diesel. “You have to look closely. It’s swirling around it.”

Diesel put his hands flat to the counter and studied the third bell. “Those whose minds are shaped by selfless thoughts give Joy when they speak or act. Joy follows them like a shadow.”

The writing disappeared, Carl swung the silver ball against the first bell, the bells chimed, and the writing swirled around the bell again. Diesel read it aloud a second time, and I copied it down.

“The J in Joy was capitalized,” Diesel said. “I imagine that’s significant.”

“So Joy might be a place.”

“Yeah, and I assume it’s in the Boston area. All the clues have led us to more Boston- or Cambridge-based clues.”

He went to my computer and typed in Joy Boston.

“I’m getting a law firm, a camp program, handbags, and a house for sale on Joy Street,” Diesel said.

I thought Joy Street sounded promising. It ran perpendicular from Beacon Street up to the top of the hill at Mount Vernon. The Massachusetts State House was on the right-hand side of the street. And Joy was relatively close to Louisburg Square, where we found the first clue.

“I like Joy Street,” I said. “I think we should go take a look at it.”

“Now?”

“Yeah.”

“In the dark of night?”

“Yeah.”

Diesel grinned. “You want to do something that will delay going to bed. You’re afraid to go to bed because you have to get naked.”

“I am not. That’s ridiculous.”

“If you want to get it over with early, we could get naked now,” Diesel said. “Get all that awkward undressing stuff out of the way.”

“And then what would we do?”

“Watch television.”

“”Naked?

“Yeah. It could be fun.”

“No one is sitting on my couch naked.”

“Carl does,” Diesel said.

That was a disturbing thought.

“I’m going to make cookies,” I said. “There’s no naked. There’s only cookies. Take it or leave it.”

“Cookies are good. And I’ll eventually get you naked.”

“That is so arrogant,” I said. And so true, I thought.

The bakery is open for a half day on Sunday. People stop in on their way home from church, on their way home from the dog park, on their way home from a morning run, bike ride, power walk. By one o’clock, everyone has gotten their sugar and gluten fix, and the bakery closes.

I slipped out of bed at 4:15 A.M. and tiptoed in the dark to the bathroom. Cat watched me from the foot of the bed. Diesel was still asleep. I took a fast shower, blasted my hair with the hair dryer, and got dressed in my usual outfit of jeans, T-shirt, and sneakers. All was quiet downstairs. Carl was sleeping on the couch. I flipped the light on in the kitchen and got coffee brewing. Cat brushed against my leg, and I bent to pet him. I gave him fresh water and some crunchy cat food.

Monroe’s Motion Machine was still sitting on my kitchen counter. It should get hidden away, I thought. Not only was it stolen, but there were other people who would love to get their hands on it. I carted it into my small laundry area, put it in my laundry basket, and covered it with dirty laundry.

I now had a stolen painting under my bed, a stolen bell in my clothes dryer, and a stolen motion machine in my laundry basket. Not a comfortable situation.

I returned to the kitchen, ate a strawberry yogurt, and chugged down a cup of coffee. I zipped myself into a hooded sweatshirt, grabbed my bag, and quietly let myself out. The rest of the houses on my street were dark. It was too early for even the early risers. The air felt frosty, and there was a sliver of moon in the black sky.

I walked the short distance to my car, was about to unlock it, and realized that Wulf was standing very close to me, partially hidden by shadow. My heart stuttered in my chest, and it took a moment for me to regain control.

“I thought you weren’t a morning person,” I said to him.

“My morning begins at sunrise.”

“You aren’t a vampire, are you?”

“No,” Wulf said, “but I have some similar tastes.”

I thought about Diesel, still asleep in my bed, and my line of vision moved from Wulf to my second-story bedroom window.

“If my intent was to take you, we’d be gone by now,” Wulf said.

“He’d track you down.”

“No doubt.”

“So you’re here why?” I asked him.

“I was following Anarchy. She tried to recruit Hatchet and failed. He’s a fool, but he’s loyal. She’ll attack you next, and you’ll be more vulnerable than Hatchet. I doubt your pain threshold is as high as his.”

“Where is she now?”

Wulf went still for a beat, as if he was testing the air. “I’ve lost her, but I suspect she’s not far away. She’ll stick close to you, waiting for her moment.”

“Why were you following her?”

“She needs to be stopped. My semi-law-abiding cousin isn’t sanctioned to destroy her, but I answer to no one.”

A light blinked on in an upstairs room across the street. Wulf stepped back into the shadows and silently disappeared.

I thought about going into the house and waking Diesel, but I was running late, and what was the point. I didn’t want Diesel attached to me 24/7. And I didn’t know what to think about Wulf and Anarchy duking it out.

I got into my car, locked the doors, and drove off, trying to push thoughts of Anarchy out of my head. Much better to think about cupcakes. Plus, it was Sunday, so we would be making apple-cinnamon doughnuts. Okay, so afterward I’d have to clean out the fryer, but it was worth it, because we produced happiness at the bakery. And that was a lot better than destroying people. What the heck did that even mean? Was that like a step beyond killing, where you killed someone and then ran over that person with a steamroller or forced them into a paper shredder?

I crossed the bridge into Salem, making the trip in record time. No traffic at this hour on a Sunday. I parked in the lot and hurried into the bakery.

“Sorry I’m late,” I said to Clara. “It was one of those mornings.”

“No problem,” Clara said, adjusting the dough hook on the big mixer. “Everything’s on schedule here. I just turned the fryer on, and the dough’s rising nicely.”

“Does Anarchy mean anything to you?” I asked her.

“Political disorder?”

“This Anarchy is a person. I ran into Wulf when I was leaving the house. He’s after a woman named Anarchy.”

“I didn’t know you and Wulf were so chummy. Isn’t Diesel living with you?”

“He isn’t living with me. He’s temporarily camped out in my house. Anyway, he was upstairs asleep, and Wulf was outside by my car.”

“Holy cow.”

I buttoned myself into my chef coat. “There’s something about Wulf that takes my breath away. He’s never done anything to actually hurt me, but he still scares the heck out of me.”

“He burned you! You have a scar on your hand.”

“Aside from that.”

Glo walked in, set Broom in the corner, and hung her tote bag on a hook by the door. “I came in early for doughnuts. Who are we talking about?”

“Wulf,” I told her.

“He’s very hot,” Glo said. “He’s like a vampire. Dominant and sensual and scary. It’s like, have you ever been on the Hulk roller coaster at Universal? It’s terrifying and a total rush, and when you get off, your pants are wet and you can’t figure out if it’s because of this or that.”

“Happens to me on the 1A when I have to go around those rotaries during rush hour,” Clara said.

I didn’t have any comparable experiences to share, so I hauled out a bag of flour and set it on my workstation.

“How was your date with the bellringer?” I asked Glo.

“It was wonderful,” she said. “He’s so cute. And he’s smart. And he knows everything there is to know about bells. I think Broom liked him, too. Broom didn’t whack him or anything. I honestly think he might be the one.”