Janet Evanovich - Wicked Business

We looked at the plaque but nothing appeared.

“It’s always something different,” I said. “The first clue was visible to Glo. The second clue was produced by the tone of the bell. The third clue responded to Carl. And the fourth clue was produced by the key.”

“I have no basis for thinking this, but I can’t shake the feeling that the writing on the back of the plaque is the clue.”

I left Diesel to study the clue he’d copied onto paper and returned to the kitchen. I didn’t have fresh greens for a salad, but I had some frozen French bread I could defrost, and there were vegetables in the frittata.

The towels and sheets were still on the windows, and not doing a lot for my decorating scheme or my mood.

“Someone toasted my car,” I said to Cat. “I think it might have been Deirdre Early. She’s a really mean person.”

I took the frittata out of the oven, gave a slice to Cat, and plated the rest for Diesel and me, along with the bread. I brought the food into the living room and we ate in front of the television.

“I found a connection,” Diesel said. “In 1885, a secret society, Sphinx, was founded at Dartmouth College. In 1903, the society erected a Sphinx Tomb on a small piece of land on Wheelock Street on the Dartmouth campus. William M. Butterfield was the architect for the Tomb. I downloaded a picture of it, and it’s hard to be sure, because the resolution isn’t as sharp as I’d like, but I think there are markings on the Sphinx cornerstone that resemble the hieroglyphics on the back of the plaque.”

I looked at the downloaded picture and gave an inadvertent shudder. “Whoa, this is solemn. It actually looks like a tomb.”

It was a windowless gray stone structure with stone steps leading up to a large solid door that was bordered by columns reminiscent of Egyptian temples. Difficult to tell how large the building was from the photo.

“Does this mean we’ll be going to Dartmouth?” I asked.

“It’s the best lead I have so far.”

“Are we going tonight?”

“No. You have to get naked tonight.”

“In your dreams.”

“Frequently,” Diesel said. “You look good.” He stared down at his empty plate. “Is there dessert?”

“Fruit.”

“Fruit isn’t a dessert unless it’s in pie crust.”

I had my cell phone clipped to my jeans waistband, and I felt it buzz. I looked at the readout and saw Glo’s number.

“Hey,” I said. “What’s going on?”

“He wants the Lovey key,” Glo said.

“Who?”

“Wulf. He has me, Lizzy. I don’t know where I am. It’s dark and it smells like dirt, and Hatchet is here and he has knives. And he cut me, and I’m bleeding.”

Her voice was shaking, and I could hear she was crying.

“How bad are you bleeding?”

“Not bad, but it hurts. And he says he’ll cut me more if you don’t bring the key.”

“Is Wulf there?”

“He was, but he left. And now I’m alone with Hatchet.”

“Where are we supposed to bring the key?”

“Hatchet is going to text you the address.”

She sucked in a sob, and the connection was broken.

I felt all the blood leave my brain, and bells started to clang in my head. I felt Diesel’s hand at the back of my neck, pushing my head down between my knees.

“Breathe,” Diesel said.

I got it together and sat up. “Sorry, that was a horrible phone call. They have Glo, and they want the key.”

“Is it a serious threat?”

“It sounded serious. She was crying, and she said Hatchet cut her.” I watched my phone for a text message. “He’s going to text me the address for the drop.”

Diesel had his hand on my shoulder. “She’ll be fine. We’ll do whatever we have to to get her back.” He was quiet for a moment, lost in thought. “It’s interesting that they want the key,” Diesel said. “We used the key to get the clue in the State House. It didn’t occur to me that the key might have another purpose.”

“Maybe they’re two steps behind us.”

Diesel shook his head. “I think Wulf has always been two steps ahead of us. He’s using Hatchet as a dupe to slow us down.”

“Do you think Hatchet knows he’s a dupe?”

Diesel shrugged. “Hatchet sees his job as serving his liege lord in whatever capacity. His role is to do or die and not question why.”

“Jeez.”

“Yeah,” Diesel said. “You’d suck at it.”

My phone chirped and the address came up in my text messages.

“I’ve got it,” I said. “They want the key brought to Carter Street in Salem, and they’ll swap the key for Glo.”

Diesel was on his feet. “Let’s go.”

We locked the house, and in minutes we were leaving Marblehead and crossing into Salem. I was trying to stay calm, but I was shaking from anger and adrenaline. And I was heartsick. I was supposed to be saving the world, but my two best friends were hurt because of me.

Carter Street was in a residential part of North Salem. Most of the houses had been converted to multifamily or apartments and were in various stages of renovation, some showing obvious effects of a bad economy. I counted off numbers and had Diesel stop at a gray Georgian Colonial. Even at night I could see that paint was peeling from window frames and the roof was in disrepair. There were no lights shining from windows. The houses on either side were dark as well.

“Wulf’s here,” Diesel said. “His car is parked in the driveway.”

We walked to the door and Hatchet opened it just as Diesel was about to knock. Hatchet stepped back, and I could sense Wulf more than see him. He was lost in the dark room, with only his pale face visible.

“I want to see her,” Diesel said.

“The emotional drama isn’t necessary,” Wulf said. “This is a simple transaction.”

He snapped his fingers at Hatchet, and Hatchet scurried into another room and returned with Glo. Glo looked disheveled and disoriented, and she had a bandage on her forearm.

“I’m afraid Hatchet got carried away in my absence,” Wulf said. “Nothing serious, but she might drool a little for an hour or two.”

Diesel gave Wulf the key, and Wulf motioned for Hatchet to release Glo.

“You would make a terrible general,” Wulf said to Diesel. “You’re willing to sacrifice the many for the one.”

“I was under the impression the key had already served its purpose.”

“It’s the key ,” Wulf said. “It’s the last step in the process.”

“How do you know?”

“It was all in the little book. While you were out bumbling around searching for clues, I was studying Lovey’s sonnets. And I finally have the last piece of the riddle.”

“Why did you have Hatchet following us, trying to get the key and the clues, if it was all in the book?” I asked him.

“There was no guarantee that the book would give me the final clue. Lovey was a complicated, devious man. So while I was working my way through his obscure references, I directed Hatchet to ensure you didn’t succeed in your treasure hunt.”

“What did you give Glo?” I asked. “She looks drugged.”

“Hatchet was showing her his prowess with a knife and he sliced a little deep,” Wulf said. “He gave her an herb to stop the bleeding, but it has some side effects. She should be fine in a few minutes. Hatchet acts the fool, but he’s one of the world’s leading experts on medieval torture and toxins.”

“Thank you, sire,” Hatchet said.

We led Glo out to the car and buckled her in.

“Are you okay?” I asked her.

“Peaches,” she said. And she drooled on her shirt.

We stopped at Diesel’s apartment, got Carl, and put him in the backseat with Glo.

“Eeh?” he said to Glo.