“Okay, enough fun,” Diesel said. “We need to get moving. Lots to do, and you have a meeting with Martin Ammon at four.”
Everyone froze.
“Martin Ammon?” Clara asked. “The Martin Ammon?”
“He has a map and a diary that I’d like to see,” Diesel said.
I went back to icing the cupcakes. “So why don’t you just introduce yourself and ask if you can see them?”
“Because I might want to see them for an extended amount of time. And it’s more than that. It could be helpful if you got friendly with Ammon. You could keep your eye on him.”
“Why me?”
“You’re cute. And you have a hook. You make magical cupcakes.”
“Yes, but…”
“I was sitting in your kitchen, and I realized it would be easy for you to get friendly with Ammon. He’s a publisher and you have a cookbook.”
“You didn’t!”
“Yeah, I did. You had a copy of your cookbook on the counter, so I messengered it over to him with a dozen cupcakes.”
“Where did you get the cupcakes?”
“You had them in your freezer.”
“Omigod. Crap on a cracker.”
“It’s all good,” Diesel said. “I sent a note with the package saying how you had this amazing cookbook idea, and all he had to do was try one of your cupcakes to know they were like magic.”
“And?”
“And his assistant called right away and said that Ammon would like to see you at four o’clock at his Marblehead house.”
“That is so cool,” Glo said. “He’s like mega rich. He’s a gazillionaire. I bet his house is made out of gold. What are you going to wear? Are you going to dress up like a chef?”
Everyone stared at me, taking in my outfit. Jeans, sneakers, T-shirt under a chocolate-smudged chef coat. Hair punked up with pink frosting.
“Maybe not a chef,” Clara said.
“You should get something new,” Glo said. “This is an important meeting.”
I shrugged out of my chef coat. “While I’m at it, I should also get my hair done, buy some makeup, and lose five pounds.”
“Don’t forget a manicure,” Glo said.
I checked my watch and gave up a sigh. “I have six hours, more or less, to whip myself into shape.” I looked at Diesel. “How much time do you think it will take to save the world?”
Diesel grinned down at me. “Less time than it will take for you to lose five pounds.”
I followed Diesel out of the bakery to his SUV, and saw that Carl wasn’t in the backseat. “No monkey?” I asked.
“I left him at the apartment.”
“You have an apartment already?”
“I have friends in high places. They have ways of getting things done fast.”
I had no idea what that meant, and I wasn’t going to ask. I’d reached the conclusion that it was best not to know too much about Diesel.
“Wulf popped into my kitchen this morning,” I said.
Diesel looked over at me. “He have anything interesting to say?”
“Mostly it was dire warnings of my bleak future.”
—
Ten minutes later, Diesel pulled into the lot attached to Salem Hospital and parked. We entered the hospital and found our way to the State Pathology Department. Nergal’s office door was open, and Nergal was working at his computer when we walked in.
“Knock, knock,” I said.
Nergal looked up and smiled. “Hey. Find any more mummies?”
“Nope,” I said. “Just the one. We’d like some information on him.”
“I haven’t done the autopsy yet so there’s not much to tell,” Nergal said.
“Have you had a chance to look through his clothes?”
“Not since last night.”
“Did you find anything last night?” Diesel asked him.
Nergal sat up a little straighter. “What do you mean?”
While Diesel was talking to Nergal, I walked around the room, skimming my hand across surfaces, looking for a vibration or a tingle or heat.
“Was anything interesting stuck in his clothes?” Diesel asked. “Like a coin?”
Nergal went silent for a beat. “Um…” he finally said.
I put my hand on Nergal’s shoulder. Nothing.
“Try his pockets,” Diesel said.
Nergal shrank away from me. “What’s going on?”
“We think there might have been a coin on the dead guy,” Diesel said. “And it’s not on him now.”
“How do you know?” Nergal asked.
“I looked,” Diesel said.
Nergal jumped to his feet. “You’re not allowed to look. How did you get in to look?”
“I’m special,” Diesel said.
I ran my hand over Nergal’s pants pocket and felt a definite vibration.
“He’s got it,” I said.
Nergal moved away from me. “You’re freaking me out. Who are you? What are you?”
I looked over at Diesel. “You want to field this one?”
“You have the coin in your pocket,” Diesel said to Nergal.
“So what?” Nergal said. “It’s not a crime. It’s evidence.”
“I’ve seen the evidence list, and the coin isn’t on it,” Diesel said. “So it looks to me like you stole some evidence.”