Janet Evanovich: Wicked Appetite

At precisely ten o’clock, Glo rushed into the kitchen. “Shirley’s here! She’s standing in front of the bakery with her back to the window, waving her arms and talking to herself.”

“What’s she saying?”

“I don’t know. The door’s closed. I can’t hear her. What should I do?”

“Has she got a gun?”

“Not that I can see, but she has her purse. She could have the gun in her purse.”

The bell tinkled when the bakery door opened, and Glo and I froze.

“Eeek,” Glo whispered.

“Stay here,” I told her. “I’ll bring the cupcakes out.”

I wrapped my arms around Shirley’s cupcake boxes, plastered a smile onto my face as if nothing unusual was going on, and I walked out of the kitchen and up to the counter.

“Hi!” I said.

Shirley pressed her lips together and passed me a piece of paper with crayon drawings of two cupcakes. One was obviously my Sunflower Lemon and the other looked like my Dazzling Red Velvet.

“Do you want these cupcakes?” I asked her.

She nodded.

I reached into the display case for a cupcake and she shook her head. “Go go,” she said.

“More than one?”

She nodded.

“A dozen?”

She nodded again.

“Of each? Are you sure you want to do that?” I asked her. “It’s a lot of cupcakes.”

Shirley nodded her head.

I ran to the kitchen and shoveled a dozen Sunflower cupcakes into a box. “Shirley’s getting an extra two dozen cupcakes,” I told Glo.

“The spell’s broken? She can talk?”

“No. She gave me a note.”

I filled a second box with the red velvets and carried them to the counter just as Clara walked in.

“Hello,” Clara said to Shirley. “How are you today?”

Shirley bit her lip. “Hmmp,” she said.

Clara leaned forward. “Excuse me?”

Shirley swiveled her head in my direction. Her eyes were approaching frantic. “Mmmph.”

“Shirley isn’t talking today,” I told Clara. “It’s hard to explain.”

Shirley vigorously nodded her head.

“That’s a lot of cupcakes,” Clara said, eyeballing the two extra boxes. “You must be having a party.”

More head nodding.

Glo peeked out from the kitchen, and Shirley spied her.

Shirley sucked in air, her eyes narrowed, and her lips squinched tight together.

“Oops,” Glo said.

Shirley pointed her finger at Glo. “Butter turd blaster.”

“Tell you what,” I said to Shirley. “The extra cupcakes are on the house.”

Shirley snatched her boxes up. “Briggum.”

“You’re welcome,” I told her.

Clara put her hand on Shirley’s arm. “Are you all right?”

“Squiggy wiggy,” Shirley said. “Spooner fig rot iggam jeepers.” She turned and pointed at Glo. “Bad bird beak. Booger bad.”

Clara fixed her eyes on Glo.

“I sort of messed up a spell,” Glo said to Clara. “I didn’t have any yak brain.”

“Well, for goodness sakes, reverse the spell!”

“That’s the sticky part,” Glo said. “I haven’t been able to find a reverse spell. I was hoping it would wear off all by itself.”

Shirley set the cupcake boxes on the counter, opened the box of Sunflower cupcakes, and ate one. “Shum,” she said. And she ate another.

“Are you sure it’s a spell?” Clara said. “Have you ruled out a medical problem?”

“It was an instantaneous coincidence,” Glo said. “I’m pretty sure it was the spell.”

Twenty-four hours ago, I wouldn’t have considered such a thing. Even now, after seeing it happen, I wasn’t entirely convinced. I mean, what do I really know about Shirley? It could all be a hoax. Or it could be a form of hysteria from seeing Diesel in her apartment.

“Did you look through the whole book for reverse spells?” Clara asked Glo. “How about the store where you bought the book? Maybe the shopkeeper can help you.”

Shirley shoved a third cupcake into her mouth and looked from me to Clara to Glo. Hopeful.

“Worth a try,” Glo said.

“I can manage on my own,” Clara said. “You guys go back to the store and see if you can get the spell reversed.”

We walked two blocks south and stopped in front of Glo’s spellbook store. Ye Olde Exotica Shoppe was written in gold script above the weather-beaten wood door. The sign in the grimy window said COME IN IF YOU DARE.

“Unh,” Shirley said.

My feelings exactly, but we went inside anyway. The store was small. The inventory was extensive. Every nook and cranny was crammed with who-the-heck-knows-what. Floor-to-ceiling shelves held jars labeled blue eyeballs, brown eyeballs, bullock nose hairs, rabbit gonads, milkweed pods, rotted monkey brain, pickled toes, gummy bears, Irish pixie dust, screech owl beaks, kosher salt, rat tails, beetle legs, pig ears, troll phlegm, candied earthworm.

Shirley stopped in front of the gummy bears. “Chewy snot gobbers!”

“Not now,” Glo told her, snagging her by the elbow, moving her to the back counter. “You can have all the snot gobbers you want after we talk to Nina. She owns the store, and she sold me the book of spells.”

Nina was in her early sixties. She had frizzed white hair that hung halfway down her back, her face looked like it had been dusted with cake flour, and her fingers were long and boney and loaded with rings. She was wearing a frothy white gown that I was sure was previously owned by Glinda the Good Witch from The Wizard of Oz. The gown had been accessorized with brown Birkenstock clogs and wool socks. In my mind, not a good fashion mix.

“So nice to see you again,” Nina said to Glo. “How are you getting along with Ripple’s spell book?”

“Actually I’ve been having some issues,” Glo said.

“It’s to be expected with a brand-new owner,” Nina said, “but practice makes perfect. You haven’t turned anyone into a roach, have you? I’ve been told the transformation spell on page 37 can sometimes go awry.”

“You’re kidding, right?” I said to Nina. “I mean, this is just a fun shop filled with tourist trinkets.”

Nina looked around her store. “Some of my merchandise is tourist-directed. They love the Harry Potter sorcerer’s wands and the pickled troll balls. But then, I stock other things that are historically important to Salem and necessary for brewing potions and stews. It used to be potions had fallen out of favor, what with needing an iron cauldron and all, but it turns out a slow cooker works just fine. Just plug it in, and seven hours later, you’re in business. Of course, you need a good book of spells like Ripple’s.”

I cut my eyes to Nina. “I’m having a hard time believing the whole book of spells concept.”

“Well, a book of spells is nothing more than a cookbook. Over the years, recipes have evolved for sponge cake, lobster bisque, spontaneous combustion, cheese soufflé, levitation, enchantment. It’s really not rocket science. Needless to say, some recipes work better than others. Personally, I have a preference for Cooking Light. ”

“I had a small mishap with a truth spell,” Glo said. “I did it perfectly, except for the powdered yak brain.”

Nina looked alarmed. “Oh dear. Don’t tell me you omitted the powdered yak brain!”

“It didn’t seem like a big deal,” Glo said. “The thing is, the spell partly worked, but not entirely. And now I’d like to reverse it, but I can’t find a reverse spell.”

“It isn’t that easy. If you left an ingredient out, you have an entirely different spell,” Nina said. “You have to find the appropriate spell before you can reverse it. What sort of spell did you cast?”

“Beggar ass diddle piddle pot,” Shirley said. “Icky bickham red cracker.”