Wicked Appetite - By Janet Evanovich Page 0,20

knowledge, he’s the only human alive who kills like this. We can both channel energy to our hands, but Wulf can channel enough to burn flesh. You already know this. His signature move is to break his victim’s neck and simultaneously brand him with his handprint. The man assigned to guard Steven Hatchet, your crazy counterpart in Florida, was just found stuffed into a trash can. His neck was broken, and he was branded with a handprint. And Hatchet is missing.”

I felt myself sway, and I reached for Diesel. The blood had all rushed out of my head and settled in my feet, and there were a lot of cobwebs and clanging noises in my brain.

“Good night,” I whispered.

Diesel sat me down on a bar stool and forced me to bend at the waist. “Head lower than your heart. Keep breathing,” he said. After a minute, he pulled me up by the back of my shirt and looked at me. “I get this reaction a lot from women. Are you okay?”

I nodded. “The burning flesh thing got to me.”

“You wouldn’t mind if he used his skills on a pot roast,” Diesel said. “Think pot roast.”

“How about if I think this is a nightmare?”

“Think what you want, but we need to wrap it up here and get over to Shirley’s. My source said it looked like Hatchet was snatched this morning. That means Wulf could be back in the area with him by now. We need to talk to Shirley before Wulf gets to her.”

“Shirley can’t talk.”

Diesel had me by the hand, tugging me to the door. “We’ll work around it.”

I dug my heels in. “I need to put my muffins in a container.”

Diesel yanked me forward. “Later.”

The Spook Patrol was still on the sidewalk in front of my house when Diesel shoved me out the door. They were joined by the guide from the ghost tour and four senior citizens who I assumed were with the guide.

“It’s the ghost man!” one of the old people said.

Everyone went cameras-up and took Diesel’s picture.

CHAPTER TEN

It was almost four o’clock when Shirley opened her door to us.

“Frack,” Shirley said, holding a three-pound roasted turkey leg.

I looked over her shoulder into her apartment. “Are you alone?”

Shirley nodded and gnawed on the leg.

“We’d like to talk to you.”

“Hah!” Shirley said. “Grape lucky.”

“Has a guy named Wulf been here?” I asked her.

Shirley looked confused.

“Gerwulf Grimoire,” Diesel said. “My height, long black hair, pale skin, smells like fire and brimstone.”

Shirley shook her head no.

“You have something he wants,” Diesel said. “And we need to get it before he does.”

“Dog off,” Shirley said. And she slammed the door closed and threw the bolt.

Diesel put his hand to the door, the bolt slid back, and he pushed the door open.

“Nice,” I said.

“Yeah, it’s good to be me,” Diesel said.

Shirley stared at her dead bolt. “Quack?” she asked. “How stucky rag it?”

“I don’t know,” Diesel said. “It’s a mystery.”

Shirley turned to me. “Quack?”

“No clue,” I told her.

“If you can’t talk, you at least need to listen,” Diesel said to Shirley. “This is important.”

Shirley vigorously shook her head no. “Da, da, da,” emphasizing the last da by poking Diesel in the chest with her turkey leg.

“I could be laying in the sun on a beach somewhere, but no, I have to save the world,” Diesel said, snatching the leg.

Shirley reached for her turkey leg, and Diesel held it high over her head. “No talk, no turkey.”

Shirley kicked him in the knee and ran to her refrigerator. Diesel beat her to the refrigerator and held the door shut.

Shirley narrowed her eyes at Diesel. “Duck pecker.”

“Sticks and stones,” Diesel told her.

I grabbed the turkey leg from Diesel and gave it back to Shirley. “Here’s the thing,” I told her. “Diesel thinks you have an object in your possession that has special power. This object represents gluttony, and it might be the reason you’re hoarding food.”

That got Shirley’s attention. “Greely?”

“Problem is, we don’t know what this thing looks like. Do you have any ideas?”

Shirley made a zero with her thumb and forefinger.

“Let’s start with the secret inheritance,” Diesel said. “Was it money? A car? A necklace?”

Shirley made a sign like she was locking her lips and throwing the key away.

Diesel was hands on hips. “You gotta be kidding.” He looked at me. “She’s kidding, right?”

“Guess she believes in the bad luck thing,” I said.

Shirley nodded.

“So you have eternal bad luck if you reveal the inheritance,” I said. “Suppose someone guessed it? That wouldn’t exactly