Wicked Appetite - By Janet Evanovich Page 0,28
that’s really interesting,” I said.
“Yeah,” Diesel said, cutting his eyes to the junk corner. “Interesting.”
“Well, I guess we should be moving on,” I said to Mark. “Sorry if Diesel was an annoyance. I’ll take him home and give him a pill.”
“I know Uncle Phil was weird,” Mark said, “but he wasn’t some voodoo guy.”
“Of course not,” I said. “Did you ever see him change a cat into a fry pan?”
“No, but I saw him change an opossum into a flowerpot. I could never figure out how he did it. It was Uncle Phil’s best trick. It was like one of those Vegas magicians making a school bus disappear.”
We said adios to Mark, let ourselves out, and climbed into Diesel’s SUV. Diesel drove half a block down the street, made a U-turn, and parked.
“Waiting for Mark to leave?” I asked.
“Yep.”
“Do you know what he inherited?”
“No, but I know where to start looking. If it’s a charm in the shape of a lock, it’s probably going to be at the bottom of the pile, since it would have been his first lock.”
“This could be fun,” I said. “I always wanted to run a backhoe.” I looked at my watch. “It’s going to be a long night. We should get some snacks to tide us over. Maybe a bucket of chicken.”
“Honey, you just ate ten doughnuts.”
“But what if we get stuck here and there’s no food?”
Diesel grinned at me. “Maybe you should let me hold Shirley’s ladybug.”
“You don’t suppose I’m turning into a glutton, do you?”
Even as I asked the question, I was thinking I should stock up on pork chops and graham crackers.
“A couple more days of carrying Shirley’s inheritance, and you’re going to have a snout and a tail,” Diesel said.
I fished in my pocket, found the charm, and handed it over. “No one said anything about Uncle Phil having any of these obsessions. Is it possible it’s all mental with Lenny, Shirley, Mark, and me? The SALIGIA Stone story is pretty far out there.”
“Personally, I’m a lazy kind of guy, and leaving the door open on the mystical saves me work. I don’t have to stress my brain trying to explain the unexplainable. It’s magic. End of discussion.”
“So you’re buying into the SALIGIA Stone fairy tale?”
“Yeah. I’m believing the whole enchilada.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The light blinked off in Mark More’s office, and Mark exited via the front door and walked to his car. The engine caught, and he drove out of the lot and down the street.
“Showtime,” Diesel said.
“What if he set an alarm?”
“Not a concern. I didn’t see a security system keypad anywhere in the building.”
We covered the short distance to the warehouse, Diesel opened the door, and we walked in. No alarm sounded. No little red diode flashed from anywhere in the room.
I heard Diesel move toward the hall in the pitch-black building and I followed him, immediately smashing into the desk.
“I suppose you can see in the dark,” I said on a sigh.
“Yeah, and obviously you can’t, so stick close to me.”
I put my hand to his back.
“Closer would be better,” he said.
“How close did you have in mind?”
“Really, really close.”
I kicked him in the back of the leg, and he grunted.
Okay, so maybe I wouldn’t mind getting close, but holy cow, not when I’m doing B&E on a chocolate mint warehouse.
“I hear you,” Diesel said, “but I’m only human . . . sort of.”
“What about the limit on how far we can go?”
“I’ll let you know when we reach it.”
He led me to the warehouse, and once we were inside and the door was closed behind us, he switched the lights on.
“Do you want first crack at the backhoe?” he asked.
“Yes!”
I climbed on board and studied the controls. I turned the key, stepped on the gas, and rolled to the pile of locks. I lowered the shovel and dug in. I backed up and carried the locks to the other side of the room and dumped them next to the cartons of mints. I did this ten times, motored over to Diesel, and parked it.
“It’s all yours,” I said, jumping off. “I don’t want to be a backhoe hog.”
“It’s boring, right?”
“Yes.”
Diesel hauled himself up behind the wheel and went to work shoveling locks. I watched him for a while, wondering who on earth he was. When I found myself fantasizing him naked, I gave myself a mental slap and looked for something else to do. If I’d had my computer, I’d have googled SALIGIA Stones. In the absence