“Nergal thinks you’re cute,” Diesel said. “He’s more likely to do something unpleasant for you.”
This was obnoxious but probably true.
“Hey,” I said when Nergal picked up.
“Let me guess,” Nergal said. “You want to know about Martin Ammon.”
“Yes! How did you know that?”
“Everyone wants to know. My mother called me.”
“Is he dead?”
“No. He’s in a private room with some idiot in a suit standing guard at his door.”
“Does he think he’s a dog?”
“A what?”
“Dog. Like, is he barking or anything?”
“I haven’t heard anything about barking. The information I got is that they’re keeping him here overnight for observation. He has a concussion.”
“Nothing unusual?”
“There’s a rumor going around that he was covered in pink rabbit fur when he was brought in, but that’s about it.”
I thanked Nergal and relayed the information to Diesel.
“So the stone isn’t on Ammon, and it’s not with Rutherford, and it’s not in the vault,” Diesel said. “My second-best guess would be the Marblehead house.”
“I see where this is going, and I’m not searching the Marblehead house until I’ve had my ice cream.”
“You can take your time with the ice cream,” Diesel said. “I think it will be just about impossible to search the Marblehead house without the distraction of a party and a fire. We’re going to have to find a way to make the stone come to us.”
“That shouldn’t be difficult. Ammon will get out of the hospital and retrieve the stone. All we have to do is snatch Ammon and rip the stone out of his demon hands.”
“Yeah. Why didn’t I think of that?”
“Or we could snatch Rutherford,” I said. “He probably helped hide the stone.”
“Even better.”
The waitress brought our food, and we stopped talking and concentrated on eating.
“Anything else?” she asked when we were done.
“Ice cream,” I said.
“We have vanilla, chocolate, strawberry, coffee, tutti-frutti, butter pecan, and chocolate chip.”
“Yes,” I said. “That’s what I want.”
“Which one?”
“All of them.”
Twenty minutes later Diesel was slouched in the booth, smiling at me. “You ate all that ice cream,” he said. “Impressive.”
“Yeah, but I’m feeling sick.”
“My original plan was to have you lure Rutherford away from the hospital tonight, so you could sweet-talk the information out of him. I’m thinking that just went out the window.”
Upchucking tutti-frutti seemed like an okay trade-off to sweet-talking Rutherford. He wasn’t as evil as Ammon, but he creeped me out. All that smiling and good cheer and the ha-ha laughing made me want to kick him in the knee. Not to mention, I was pretty sure I lacked the sweet-talking gene.
“I need to go home and lie down or throw up or something,” I said.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
It was five in the morning, I was at the bakery, and so far my day was looking good. I had woken up to a house that felt relatively normal. Just Cat and me in the velvety darkness. Diesel had patched my doors the night before, so they would at least stay closed. He promised to get me new ones today. My kitchen felt welcoming when I switched the light on. No sign of Mammon. No Rutherford. No Wulf.
Clara bustled in and went to her workbench. “Four dozen cupcakes for Mr. Dooley today,” she said.
“Four dozen cupcakes coming up.”
She looked over at me. “Have you heard any more about Ammon?”
“So far as I know he’s in the hospital with a concussion.”
“You seem very chipper today.”
“I know. I woke up feeling terrific, and everything has been perfect this morning. Perfect coffee. Perfect toasted bagel. Every light was green on the way to work.” I gave up a huge sigh of contentment. “It’s going to be a good day.”
Glo showed up a couple hours later. She was all in black, including lipstick and nail polish.
“You look like goth girl,” I said to her.
“I’m in mourning. The 8 Ball died.”
“Gee, that’s awful,” I said. “Sorry.”
“Yeah, condolences,” Clara said.
“I sort of expected it,” Glo said. “He’d been leaking for a while. And to tell you the truth, I’m not so sure he was magical. Still, it’s sad. I paid two bucks for that 8 Ball. You’d think for that kind of money he would have lasted longer.”
Glo took a tray of almond croissants out to the shop and unlocked the front door. Jennie Bell came in for a blueberry muffin, and Mrs. Kuzak bought a loaf of rye. I moved on to cookie dough, and I heard Nergal’s voice at the counter.
“Hey,” Glo yelled back to me. “Guess who’s here?”
Nergal smiled and gave me a finger wave when I came to the counter.
“I felt like a cupcake this morning,” he said.
“Red velvet?” I asked him.
“Yes. I’ll take two. And a lemon chiffon.”
“Wow, you must be having a good day.”