Wicked Charms

I gave the piece of coin back to him. “I keep thinking about the poem Gramps recited. It seems odd that Peg Leg would have been so obsessed with it.”


“Gramps has complained about it so much that I know it by heart,” Clara said. “It’s a poem by John Masefield called ‘Sea Fever.’ It wasn’t until I was in college that I realized he had it wrong. The real line is ‘And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by.’ Gramps always said ‘a light to guide her by.’?”

We dropped Clara off at the bakery, and Diesel and I drove the short distance to Kosciuszko Street for pizza. We got an extra-large pizza with extra cheese and extra pepperoni, and we took it to a table outside. We had a good view of the Derby Wharf and of the wooden frigate that served as a floating museum of Salem’s maritime history. The Derby lighthouse stood off in the distance at the end of the jetty.

“How did you manage to get into the shark tank?” I asked Diesel.

“I hypnotized the divers by showing them magical pieces of paper.”

“Fifty-dollar bills?”

Diesel sprinkled crushed red pepper on his pizza slice. “They held out for a hundred each.”

“Saving the world is expensive.”

“Yeah, I just hope this leads to something. We probably need all eight pieces to read the map that will take us to the stone. And we’re already down one of the pieces.”

“Maybe Wulf will give his piece back to us.”

“Maybe hell will freeze over. Wulf is psycho. He’s like an animal who gets on a scent and follows it with a bloodlust.”

“Jeez. He’s your cousin.”

“Insanity runs in my family,” Diesel said. “My Great-Uncle Gustav thinks he’s a fruit bat.”

“Is he?”

Diesel shrugged. “Not always. He looked pretty normal at my cousin Maria’s wedding.”

“Well, at least he’d be vegetarian.”

“True.” Diesel eyed the pizza. “Do you want the last piece?”

“No. I’m stuffed.”

Diesel reached for the pizza and a phone rang. Not my ringtone. Not Diesel’s ringtone. It was the stalker’s phone. I pulled it out of my purse and stared at it. The caller ID read BLOCKED. I put the phone on the table and pressed the SPEAKER function.

“You seem to have my phone,” a man said.

“Who is this?” I asked.

“Names aren’t important. However, I do have something you might value.”

We heard angry chattering in the background. Carl!

“I’m willing to trade this unpleasant monkey for the pieces of eight you’ve acquired and a small service from Ms. Tucker.”

“Get serious,” Diesel said. “Keep the monkey.”

“Here’s the deal. You are going to meet me at the Derby lighthouse in an hour. If you don’t follow instructions we’ll begin chopping off pieces of your monkey’s tail and mailing them to you.”

“Eeep!” Carl said.

The caller disconnected.

“How awful!” I said.

“Yeah. Hope they send it overnight. Monkey tail could get funky after a couple days.”

“Do you think this guy is working for Wulf?”

“No. This isn’t Wulf’s style. There’s another player in the game.” He looked down at the phone on the table. “Where did you get this?”

“There was a guy following Clara and me around the aquarium, and I used him to create the diversion. There was a scuffle, the cellphone got dropped onto the floor, and Clara retrieved it.”

“And the guy?”

“He ran away. A guard ran after him but couldn’t catch him. It turned out the guy was taking pictures of all of us. Plus he took some pictures of the shark tank.”

“I’m surprised the guard let you keep the phone.”

“He was all done in from the chase. I think he was just happy to be rid of us. Unfortunately it’s a prepaid phone. No ID. No phone numbers on it. There’s nothing to trace.”

“He wanted something else besides the coin pieces. He wanted a service from you. And I don’t think he wants cupcakes.”



The Derby lighthouse isn’t the traditional, narrow cylindrical lighthouse you see in all the calendars. It’s squat and square and made of whitewashed brick. It’s twenty-three feet tall and looks like it was built out of Legos by a six-year-old kid with no imagination.

We reached the end of the narrow spit of land, and the red beacon on the top of the lighthouse began to flash every six seconds. The door at the base of the lighthouse was unlocked, so we pushed it open and stepped into a small, dark room. Diesel flipped the light switch, and we saw that the room was empty with the exception of a metal spiral staircase that led to the rooftop lantern room.

The guy from the aquarium was standing at the top of the staircase. A burlap sack was at his feet, a nasty-looking semiautomatic was in his hand, and he had a booted foot on the sack, holding it in place while something squirmed inside.