“Okay, you should calm yourself,” I said. “It’s not that bad. Things happen.”
“No, no. You don’t understand. This is Mammon we’re talking about. The God of Greed. He doesn’t like when he loses treasure.”
“It’s not Mammon,” I said. “It’s Martin Ammon. What’s the worst that can happen?”
“I don’t know. Ha-ha. Anal probes? Ha-ha.”
“Maybe he still has the tranq gun in the car,” Diesel said. “We could plant one on him.”
“We’re going to leave now,” I said to Rutherford. “If you find the stone you can call anytime.”
“Yes, yes. I’ll do that. Of course. Yes, yes.”
Diesel and I walked calmly across the road, got into the van, and told Clara what happened.
“Drive off as if everything is perfectly normal,” I said to Clara. “We don’t want to alarm the men with the guns. And we especially don’t want the crazy man who’s pacing back and forth in front of the building to go completely gonzo.”
“Too late,” Diesel said. “That ship has sailed.”
“Now what?” Clara asked, winding her way around Salem.
“I guess we take the treasure back to Gramps,” Diesel said. “He’s the expert at treasure redistribution.”
—
It was hard to drag myself out of bed in the morning. It had been a late night. Diesel was warm next to me. Cat was curled at the foot of the bed. Carl was in the laundry basket. I oozed out from under the quilt, trying not to disturb anyone, and shuffled into the bathroom. I stood in the shower until the room was steamy and I was pretty much awake. When I finally tiptoed out of the bathroom Carl and Diesel were still asleep. Cat was at the door, waiting for me.
Cat and I went downstairs and I fixed Cat’s breakfast. “My life is a big mess,” I said to Cat. “I set drapes on fire and lose treasures and hook up with the wrong men. And I’m not just talking about romantic hookups. I’m talking about cookbook hookups, too.”
Cat didn’t seem especially concerned. Cat was happy to have his half can of cat food.
I was a half hour late getting to the bakery, and Clara had already started the yeast dough.
“I’m not up to saving the world after eight o’clock at night,” Clara said. “Just take the keys next time you need the van.”
“I’m hoping there won’t be a next time. It seems to me we’re at a dead end with the Avaritia Stone.”
“Ammon must know where it is.”
“I’m not sure what Ammon knows. I’m told dogs don’t have good short-term memory.”
At eleven o’clock I was finishing the frosting on a batch of cupcakes, and Glo stuck her head in the kitchen.
“He’s here!” Glo said.
“Who?”
“Martin Ammon! He wants to see you.”
I made my way to the counter and tried my best to smile. “Hey,” I said. “How’s it going?”
“I had a concussion. Nothing serious, but they wanted me to stay in the hospital for observation. I’m sure you heard.”
I nodded. “Yup.”
“I’m on my way home, but I wanted to stop by and personally invite you to the house to discuss the cookbook. We’ve gotten behind schedule.”
“You still want to publish my cookbook?”
“Of course. It’s a large part of the campaign. We have decisions to make. We need cover art and an author photo. I was thinking three o’clock. Does that work for you?”
More head nodding. “Three is good.”
We all watched him leave. He walked out on two legs and climbed into the backseat of a black Mercedes sedan. He didn’t bark or lift his leg on the tire. It looked like Rutherford was at the wheel.
“You aren’t going to his house, are you?” Clara asked. “It could be a trap.”
“Yeah,” Glo said. “Mammon could be waiting for you.”
“He didn’t look like Mammon,” I said.
“He didn’t look like a dog, either,” Glo said. “But I wouldn’t wear a rabbit jacket around him.”
“He caught me off guard,” I said. “I’ll send him a text and tell him something came up.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
At one o’clock I tossed my chef coat in the laundry bin, hung my tote bag on my shoulder, and waved goodbye to Clara.
“See you tomorrow,” I said.
“Hope so,” Clara said.
I walked to my car and realized Rutherford was hovering a short distance away.
“A moment?” he said.
“Sure. I guess Ammon understood about the missing treasure.”
“Oh, of course, well, actually he doesn’t know. Just not enough hours in the day to get to everything. Lots of time to tell him about the treasure. Lots of time. The more pressing issue is to schedule a meeting between the two of you. Mr. Ammon received your text and was very disappointed. Perhaps you would be able to attend a meeting later today. Four o’clock or five o’clock, perhaps?”
“No.”
“Ha-ha. No? Ha-ha. That’s a good one. Just no.” He smoothed out his tie. “The thing is, Mr. Ammon has tasked me with ensuring your presence at Cupiditas sometime today.”