Wicked Appetite - By Janet Evanovich Page 0,8
if he collects the dwarfs.”
“What happens if you only get some of the Stones but not all of the Stones?”
“I don’t know. Maybe you just create hell in Connecticut.”
He handed me a bunch of forks from the silverware drawer. “Does this do anything for you?”
“Forks?”
“It’s been a long time. The Stones could have changed shape.”
“Yes, but this is a fork.” I turned it over and read the name on the back. “It’s Oneida. I know this brand. They’re made in New York, and this looks new. Wouldn’t we be looking for something old?”
“Old can be hidden inside something new.”
“And I’m supposed to know it when I see it?”
“That’s what they tell me. Actually, you have to hold it.”
“And then what happens?”
“Don’t know,” Diesel said.
“What do you know?”
“Peach Pie, I know stuff that would knock your socks off. I could make you sing the ‘Hallelujah Chorus.’ ”
I looked at the intelligent brown eyes under fierce eyebrows and the sensuous mouth made slightly sinister in a two-day beard, and I suspected he was telling the truth.
“I heard that thought,” Diesel said.
“You are such a jerk!”
He tugged at my ponytail. “Yeah, but I’m fun.”
He took the forks, put them back into the drawer, and handed me knives and spoons.
I hefted the knives and spoons and passed them back to Diesel. “Why do you think Shirley More is a Glutton?”
“Wulf’s been following her around.” He gave me a teapot to hold. “And all the signs are here. Word on the street is, the keeper can take on some of the sin.”
Diesel opened one of the cupcake boxes and looked inside. “These cupcakes are a work of art.”
“Thank you. I make all the cupcakes for Dazzle’s. They’re my specialty.”
He took a chocolate cupcake out of the box and ate half.
“That’s stealing,” I told him.
“I’ve seen Shirley. This is an act of charity. Shirley needs to cut back on the cupcakes.” He finished off the remaining half, licked his lips, and sent me his killer smile. “That was the best cupcake of my life,” he said. “I’m in love.”
“I’m guessing it doesn’t take much to make you fall in love.”
“It takes a lot. You underestimate your cupcakes.”
Forty minutes later, I’d handled everything in sight and lots of things that were hidden away. Nothing tingled, buzzed, burned, or sent me subliminal messages.
“Two possibilities,” Diesel said. “Either the thing isn’t here, or else you’re a dud.”
“Hey, I didn’t ask for this job. You were the one who decided I had magical powers.”
“Not my call,” Diesel said. “The BUM picked you out of the gene pool.”
“BUM?”
“Board of Unmentionable Marshalls. And you don’t have magical powers. That would be Siegfried and Roy. You have an enhanced ability to detect a certain kind of energy. At least, that’s the theory. You and some weird guy in Florida.”
“That’s it? Only the two of us?”
“Apparently. And the jury is still out on you.”
“Maybe you should be dragging the weird guy around.”
“The critical word in that sentence is weird. I passed him off to an associate.”
“What about Wulf? He must be able to find this thing.”
“Wulf is like me. He can find people. He needs help to find an empowered object. And there are only two ways he can get that help . . . from the keeper or from you. And he can’t have you. You’re mine.”
“Excuse me?”
Diesel grinned. “Lucky you.”
“What about the guy in Florida?”
“He’s on ice.”
I thought about pinching myself to make sure I was awake, but it was such a cliché I couldn’t bring myself to do it. And what if I was awake? How awful was that? It meant Diesel was real.
“I’m having a nightmare, right?”
“Wrong. I’m real,” Diesel said. “And it wouldn’t kill you to think a good thought about me.”
“Are you thinking good thoughts about me?”
His eyes dilated black and the corners of his mouth softened into the hint of a smile. “Would you like to know my thoughts?”
“No!”
My attention went to a framed photo on an end table. It was a picture of a woman resembling Shirley, a second woman, and two men. They didn’t look like couples. For that matter, they didn’t even look like they were friends. The picture had been taken outdoors, and from the flowers in the background, I was guessing it was summer. The two men and two women were smiling, but their smiles looked forced.
“Do you suppose this is Shirley?” I asked Diesel.
“If it’s Shirley, she was younger and a lot thinner.” He put his hand to my back and