Janet Evanovich - Wicked Business

We examined every piece of the machine while Diesel reassembled it, but we couldn’t find a message.

“It’s all together,” Diesel said, securing the last dowel. “Let’s see how it works.”

He set the silver ball in motion, it hit the first bell with a pretty ding , the first bell hit the second bell with a lower-register dong , the second bell hit the third bell with a muffled kunk , and the third bell hit the fourth bell, producing another pretty chime.

“The third bell doesn’t ring,” I said.

Diesel got a soda from the refrigerator. “You try it.”

I set the ball in motion and got the same result. The third bell didn’t ring, and no magic message appeared. I touched each of the bells and got heat and vibration from only the third bell.

“The third bell is definitely charged with a different energy,” I said. “We just have to figure out how to set it free.”

“Maybe we need Glo,” Diesel said.

I called Glo, asked her to come over, and I made grilled cheese sandwiches while we waited. We stood in the kitchen eating our sandwiches, taking turns with Monroe’s Motion Machine.

“It’s clever,” I said.

“It would be even more clever if it gave us the next clue.”

“Someone, probably Lovey, had a very unique talent.”

Diesel finished his sandwich and put his plate into the dishwasher. “I don’t know of anyone today who can duplicate this. These objects were programmed to respond to a basic personality characteristic, like believing in true love. Or in the case of the church bells, to respond to a specific tone played in a prescribed order. That’s very different from spewing out enough energy to bend a spoon or open a lock.”

“It’s magic.”

“Magic is something you don’t understand and can’t explain. But yeah, it’s magic,” Diesel said.

Cat ate half a grilled cheese sandwich, got bored with the machine, and padded off to look for a spot to nap. Carl stayed fascinated. He was still intently watching the machine when Glo came into the kitchen.

“I know this machine,” she said. “They have one exactly like it in a glass case in the Science Museum.” Her eyes got wide. “Omigosh, this is it, isn’t it? You snitched this from the museum.”

“It accidentally got into Diesel’s backpack,” I told her. “I think there’s a clue attached to the third bell, but we can’t get it to appear. We thought it might work for you.”

Glo set the silver ball in motion and three of the bells sang out, but the third bell only made the soft kunk sound. We closely watched the bells for a sign, but nothing happened.

“The history of Tichy persuades when innocence prevails,” Diesel said.

Glo giggled. “Guess I flunked that test. It’s hard to stay innocent when you’re on the hunt for true love.”

“In this case, I don’t think he was equating innocence with abstinence,” Diesel said.

I made Glo a grilled cheese, and she tried Monroe’s machine a couple more times, but it was always the same.

“I have to go,” Glo said. “I’m meeting the bellringer for coffee tonight instead of tomorrow.”

“Thanks for coming over. Sorry to make you go out of your way for nothing.”

“No problemo,” Glo said. “I was going into Boston anyway, and I got a grilled cheese out of it.”

I walked her to the door, waved her off, and went into the living room to watch television with Diesel. I settled next to him on the couch, and I heard the bells chime in the kitchen.

“Carl!” Diesel yelled. “Knock it off with the bell machine. That’s museum property.”

“I heard four different bells,” I said to Diesel.

He hit the mute button on the television.

Ding, dong, dong, ding .

“He never listens to me,” Diesel said. “It’s like pissing into the wind.”

I was on my feet. “Four bells.”

We went into the kitchen and watched Carl. He was enthralled with the game, swinging the silver ball, fascinated that it would make the bells chime.

“This is the innocent?” Diesel asked. “A monkey? Are you kidding me? And it’s not just any monkey. It’s my evil monkey.”

Carl kept his attention on the Motion Machine, but he gave Diesel the finger.

“He isn’t exactly evil ,” I said.

Diesel looked over at him. “He’s in the ballpark.”

Ding, dong, dong, ding .

“There’s writing on the third bell,” I said to Diesel. “You have to look closely. It’s swirling around it.”

Diesel put his hands flat to the counter and studied the third bell. “Those whose minds are shaped by selfless thoughts give Joy when they speak or act. Joy follows them like a shadow.”

The writing disappeared, Carl swung the silver ball against the first bell, the bells chimed, and the writing swirled around the bell again. Diesel read it aloud a second time, and I copied it down.

“The J in Joy was capitalized,” Diesel said. “I imagine that’s significant.”

“So Joy might be a place.”

“Yeah, and I assume it’s in the Boston area. All the clues have led us to more Boston- or Cambridge-based clues.”

He went to my computer and typed in Joy Boston .

“I’m getting a law firm, a camp program, handbags, and a house for sale on Joy Street,” Diesel said.

I thought Joy Street sounded promising. It ran perpendicular from Beacon Street up to the top of the hill at Mount Vernon. The Massachusetts State House was on the right-hand side of the street. And Joy was relatively close to Louisburg Square, where we found the first clue.

“I like Joy Street,” I said. “I think we should go take a look at it.”

“Now?”

“Yeah.”

“In the dark of night?”

“Yeah.”

Diesel grinned. “You want to do something that will delay going to bed. You’re afraid to go to bed because you have to get naked.”

“I am not. That’s ridiculous.”

“If you want to get it over with early, we could get naked now,” Diesel said. “Get all that awkward undressing stuff out of the way.”

“And then what would we do?”

“Watch television.”

“” Naked ?

“Yeah. It could be fun.”

“ No one is sitting on my couch naked .”

“Carl does,” Diesel said.

That was a disturbing thought.

“I’m going to make cookies,” I said. “There’s no naked. There’s only cookies. Take it or leave it.”

“Cookies are good. And I’ll eventually get you naked.”

“That is so arrogant,” I said. And so true, I thought.

The bakery is open for a half day on Sunday. People stop in on their way home from church, on their way home from the dog park, on their way home from a morning run, bike ride, power walk. By one o’clock, everyone has gotten their sugar and gluten fix, and the bakery closes.

I slipped out of bed at 4:15 A.M. and tiptoed in the dark to the bathroom. Cat watched me from the foot of the bed. Diesel was still asleep. I took a fast shower, blasted my hair with the hair dryer, and got dressed in my usual outfit of jeans, T-shirt, and sneakers. All was quiet downstairs. Carl was sleeping on the couch. I flipped the light on in the kitchen and got coffee brewing. Cat brushed against my leg, and I bent to pet him. I gave him fresh water and some crunchy cat food.

Monroe’s Motion Machine was still sitting on my kitchen counter. It should get hidden away, I thought. Not only was it stolen, but there were other people who would love to get their hands on it. I carted it into my small laundry area, put it in my laundry basket, and covered it with dirty laundry.

I now had a stolen painting under my bed, a stolen bell in my clothes dryer, and a stolen motion machine in my laundry basket. Not a comfortable situation.