Janet Evanovich - Wicked Business

“I got caught smoking pot once, but I was underage, and I didn’t get charged with a felony.”

“Even better,” Glo said.

“So tell me about the bells,” I said to Josh.

“There are eight of them. They were cast in Gloucester, England, in 1744, and they were hung here in Old North in 1745. They were restored in 1894 and again in 1975.”

“Is it possible to play a song with them?”

“I suppose it’s possible, but they’re not designed to play a song. These are tone bells. We have certain sequences that we play,” Josh said. “It’s a complicated process.”

“This is confusing,” I said. “I was under the impression there were nine bells.”

“Nope,” he said. “Right from day one, there were only eight. Maybe you’re thinking about the Duane bell. Charles Duane was a church rector. He was the first rector to have the bells refurbished. He also had a small replica bell made as well and asked that it be buried with him. Sometimes it’s referred to as the ninth bell.”

“Where’s he buried?”

“Here,” Josh said. “There are thirty-seven tombs and over eleven hundred bodies buried in the basement.”

“That’s a lot of bodies to bury in your basement,” Glo said.

“They give tours,” Josh said. “It’s awesome. Charles Duane has a plaque and everything. Not everybody has a plaque.”

“Is it creepy down there?” Glo asked. “Are there ghosts?”

“The tour I took didn’t see any ghosts. At least, I didn’t see any. And it wasn’t creepy, except it feels a little claustrophobic.”

“Thanks,” I said to Josh. “You’ve been very helpful.”

“Are you walking the Freedom Trail?”

“No,” Glo said. “We’re saving mankind.”

“Excellent,” Josh said. “See you Sunday.”

“He was dreamy,” Glo said, when we got back to my car. “He could be the one I’ve been looking for. He spoke English and everything. I have a good feeling about him.”

We left the North End and hit 1A at rush hour. Route 1A isn’t good at the best of times. Rush hour is excruciating. By the time I rolled into Marblehead, I was starving and my back was in spasm.

“Remind me to never do that again,” I said to Glo.

“If I could just get Broom to cooperate, we could fly,” Glo said. “Then we wouldn’t have to worry about traffic. Harry Potter didn’t have to worry about traffic.”

“You realize Harry Potter isn’t real, right?”

“Of course, but he could be. I mean, maybe not Harry Potter , but someone like him. Who’s to say?”

Glo had parked on the street in front of my house, and I pulled in behind her.

“You got your car fixed,” I said.

“My neighbor fixed it for me. I went out with him once, but it didn’t work out.”

“He was shot with a nail gun?”

“No. He decided he was gay. He said it wasn’t my fault, but I’m not so sure.”

We went into the house, and I pulled food out of the fridge. All bakery rejects. Ugly meat pies and stale cupcakes. Glo was halfway through a meat pie and a beer when the back door burst open, and Hatchet jumped into the kitchen, brandishing his sword.

“Vile wenches,” he said. “Out of my way whilst I search this keep.”

“What’s a keep?” Glo asked him.

“You’ve blacked your windows,” Hatchet said to me. “You’re hiding something, and I want it.”

“Dude,” Glo said. “You need to chill. Have a meat pie.”

“I will not be dissuaded by your meat pie,” Hatchet said. “I want the clue.”

“Here’s the thing,” Glo said. “You’re kind of cute. Like, you’ve got this medieval thing going for you, and it’s sort of a turn-on. I mean, I met this other guy today, and he might be the one, but then again it might be you, if you could just get over the bossy part of your personality.”

Hatchet lowered his sword. “Thou thinkst I’m bossy?”

“Maybe you’re just hungry,” Glo said. “Does Wulf feed you? Take a meat pie while I get my book. I was thinking about you last night, and I found a spell that might help.”

Glo pulled Ripple’s Book of Spells out of her canvas messenger bag, set it on the counter, and paged through it.

Hatchet looked at the meat pies. “Dost thou have a ham and cheese?”

I gave him a paper towel and a ham meat pie. “You want a beer?”

“Aye. A tankard of ale would be fine.”

“How about a bottle?”

“Whatever,” Hatchet said.

“Here it is. I found it,” Glo said. “It’s a mid-level charm that improves self-esteem. You won’t feel subservient to Wulf after I put this charm on you.”

“But it is my destiny to be subservient,” Hatchet said.

“Piggle wiggle little weewee,” Glo read.

“I doest not have a little weewee,” Hatchet said. “That is an untruth. An affront to my weewee.”

Glo followed along with her finger. “Think large when anger calls, when thoughts are small, when doubt assails, let thy body bloat, release all foul within.” Glo reached into her messenger bag and took out a little plastic bag that held a small amount of black powder. She sprinkled the powder onto Hatchet and clapped her hands twice. “Powdered frickberry to seal the deal,” she said.

Hatchet sneezed and farted. “Sorry,” he said. “I got frickberry up my nose.” And he farted again.

“Are you sure you read that right?” I asked Glo. “It sounded more like a charm for intestinal problems than for self-esteem problems.”

“I even followed with my finger,” Glo said.

I looked at the charm she’d just read. “I think you might have inadvertently changed a word. You said bloat and you should have said float .”

“Are you sure?”

“Pretty sure.”

Pbblt . Hatchet farted.

“Maybe you should undo the charm,” I said to Glo. “Just say it the right way.”

“It’s not that easy. I’ll have to find the bloat charm and then find the antidote. And that was the last of my frickberry powder. The charm won’t stick without frickberry.”

Hatchet finished his ham meat pie. “I thank thee for the savory pie,” he said. Bbrrrp .

“Jeez Louise,” Glo said. “You’re going to have to take it outside. My eyes are burning.”

“Yeah, and I haven’t got any clues,” I told him. “I’m fresh out.”

“I think thou doth fib,” Hatchet said, “but I will take my leave for now, as this evil wench hath cursed me with foul flatulence.”

Hatchet swooshed out the door with sword in hand, I locked the door after him, and Glo lit a match.

“He was cuter before he started farting,” she said.

I ate a meat pie and popped a mini strawberry cupcake into my mouth. “I suppose we need to send Diesel into the crypt to check out the ninth bell.”

“Maybe the Luxuria Stone is there, too. That would be so cool, because we wouldn’t have to worry about hell anymore. We could have a kegger to celebrate.”

I helped myself to a second cupcake, and Carl scampered into the kitchen, followed by Diesel.

“What’s up, little dude?” Glo said to Carl.

“Eeh,” Carl said, and he gave her the finger.

Diesel went straight to the refrigerator and got a beer. “That sums up my day, too.”

I gave Carl a meat pie and pushed the rest of them over to Diesel. “Couldn’t find your bad guy?”

“Eighty-six years old, and he’s making me look silly. And I don’t think he’s even trying. He’s so old, he’s not giving off any markers. I can’t track him. And he’s not following a pattern. I don’t think the guy sleeps. He just wanders around creating havoc.” He took a pie. “What have you been up to?”

“We found the clue that leads to the Luxuria Stone,” Glo said. “And I met a really cute guy.”