Wicked Appetite (13 page)

“Oops, sorry,” she said. “Guess I pushed the door too hard. My mind was someplace else.”

“Where was it?” Clara wanted to know.

“It wasn’t in any place good. I have a big problem.”

“Gosh, imagine that,” Clara said.

Glo shrugged out of her black sweatshirt and into her bakery smock. “A couple months ago, I was at a party and
one of the guys worked for an animal rescue group. He was a really cute guy, and that’s such a good cause. I mean, how could you not like a guy who rescues sad little baby animals? Anyway, I sort of signed up to give a home to one of the sad little abandoned babies.”

“Sort of?” Clara asked.

“Okay, I totally signed. It was a moment of weakness, and this guy was such a hottie. And I didn’t know back then that my landlord was allergic. And the bottom line is, I totally forgot all about it until the critter was delivered first thing this morning.”

“I don’t want it,” Clara said.

“I know!” Glo wailed. “And Lizzy already has a kitty. I’m so screwed. I don’t know what to do.”

“Just give it back to the rescue people,” Clara said.

Glo buttoned her smock. “I tried that. They said possession was nine-tenths of the law, and they wouldn’t take it back. I guess some of these animals have behavioral problems.”

“And you agreed to take on a pet with behavioral problems?”

“Did I mention how cute the guy was? And that he drove a Corvette?”

Clara and I exchanged glances.

“Where’s the problem child now?” Clara asked.

“In my car,” Glo said.

I had a vision of some poor, scared kitten locked up in Glo’s car all day.

“You can’t leave it in your car,” I told her. “I suppose I could see if it gets along with Cat 7143.”

Glo’s eyes opened wide. “Omigosh, that would be so awesome. That would be amazing!”

Glo ran out the door, and a moment later, she returned with a monkey on a leash.

“That’s a monkey,” I said to her.

“Yeah.”

“I thought you got something from animal rescue.”

“Actually, it was Monkey Rescue.”

“I don’t want a monkey,” I told her. “I’m not a monkey person.”

The monkey did a gruesome monkey smile, its lips pulled back to reveal a mouthful of monkey teeth, his monkey eyes overly big and bright, as if he was trying hard to look happy but was completely insane.

“Look how cute he is,” Glo said. “And he likes you. He’s smiling.”

I thought he looked like he was planning to chop me up into little pieces and stuff me into the blender.

“I have to open the bakery,” Clara said. “You guys are going to have to work something out with the monkey. He can’t stay here.” Her attention moved to the back door and her mouth dropped open. “Holy cow,” she said.

It was Wulf. He was standing in the doorway, his dark eyes fixed on me. He was wearing a black leather jacket, black slacks, black boots, and his glossy black hair was tied back at
the nape of his neck. I felt a chill run through me, and I went breathless at the sight of him. He was terrifyingly compelling.

“I believe you have something that belongs to me,” Wulf said.

I opened my mouth to deny it, but it took a while for sound to come out. “N-n-no,” I finally said.

Wulf moved toward me. “We’ll see.”

I scrambled to the other side of the workstation, putting the island between us. “I swear I haven’t got
anything
.”

“Stay away from her,” Glo said. “Or else.”

Wulf’s focus never wavered. His eyes were fixed on me with an intensity that made my skin prickle.

“Come here,” he said. “Trust me, you don’t want to make me angry.”

Glo was standing by the table we used for the meat pies. She snatched a garlic clove out of a bin and threw it at Wulf. It hit him in the side of the head and bounced off onto the floor.

“Death to vampires,” Glo said.

Wulf flicked his eyes to the garlic. “If only it was that easy,” he said.

“Lenny’s inheritance got blown up with the chicken, and Diesel has Shirley’s,” I told Wulf.

There was a flash of fire and lots of smoke, and when the smoke cleared, Wulf was gone.

The monkey peeked out from behind Glo. “Eep!”

That pretty much summed it up for all of us.

“I’m impressed,” I said to Glo. “You were really gutsy to throw that garlic at him.”

“Yeah, but now I might fall over,” she said. “I’ve gotta sit down. I need a cupcake or something. Holy bejeezus, he’s one scary guy.”

Clara scooted a chair under Glo, and I gave her a cupcake. The monkey looked freaked, so I gave him a cupcake, too. Everyone took a moment to breathe.

“Okay, I feel better,” Glo said. “I’m not going to throw up or anything.”

“Someone’s pounding on the front door,” Clara said. “I’m ten minutes late to open.”

Glo and I followed Clara into the shop and looked out at Shirley hammering on the door. She was bug-eyed, and her hair was Wild Woman. She was wearing a misbuttoned white shirt, and her skirt was twisted off center.

“Eek! Eek, eek, eeeeek!” Shirley said, charging into the bakery, waving her arms. “Boogie man ramma framma me. Icky poopy.” Shirley gave a shiver and made spitting sounds. “Pthu, pthu.”

“Something bad happened?” Clara asked.

Shirley nodded her head and gave herself a frantic pat down. “Grabby flabby big boys, bum, scooter pie.” Her eyes narrowed. “Slippery fur forest and brown Betty!”

“We don’t make scooter pies,” Glo said.

Shirley pointed to her crotch. “Scooter pie!”

A wave of nausea slipped through my stomach. “You were strip-searched.”

Shirley put her fingertip to her nose. “Beck.”

“Was it Wulf?” I asked.

Shirley nodded. “And peepee Snatch Bagger.”

“You should go to the police,” Glo said.

Shirley rolled her eyes and pointed to her mouth. “Snot gobble.”

“Yeah, that’s a problem,” Glo said, “but we could translate.”

I gave Shirley a cupcake to calm her down. “Language isn’t the biggest problem. I’m not sure the police can do anything with Wulf. Either he’s a figment of our imaginations, or else he actually disappears in a puff of smoke.”

Diesel strolled in from the kitchen. “The smoke is just theatrics. Wulf thinks it’s fun. The problem would be with containment.”

“What are you doing back at the bakery?” I asked him. “Did you know Wulf was here?”

“No. I knew food was here.”

“Wulf was here, but Glo hit him with a clove of garlic and scared him away. Or maybe he left because I told him you had Shirley’s inheritance.”

Diesel looked over at Shirley. “Shirley looks like she had a rough night.”

“More like a rough morning,” I told him. “Wulf came looking for the charm.”

“Was Wulf alone?” Diesel asked.

Shirley held up two fingers. “Nut sucker by Snatch Bagger.” She jumped around making slashing motions like she had a sword.

“I’m not getting an exact translation on this,” Diesel said.

Shirley stopped jumping and her eyes practically popped out of her head, spotting the monkey for the first time. “Jeepers!”

The monkey was sitting on a counter, stuffing his face with cupcakes. He realized everyone was staring at him and his mouth opened and a chunk of cake fell out.

“If the board of health sees this, I’ll be shut down,” Clara said. “It’ll be the first time in four hundred years the bakery was cited.”

Diesel rocked back on his heels and grinned at the monkey. “Carl?”

“Eep!” The monkey stood, squinted at Diesel, and gave him the finger.

“Looks like you know each other,” I said.

“Our paths crossed in Trenton,” Diesel said. “How did he get here?”

“Monkey Rescue,” Glo told him. “He was abandoned.”

“Figures,” Diesel said.

The monkey gave him the finger again.

“Does he do that all the time?” I asked Diesel.

“Not
all
the time.”

“I got him by mistake,” Glo said. “And now we don’t know what to do with him.”

“You could turn him loose and let him go play in traffic,” Diesel said.

Glo, Clara, and I looked horrified.

Diesel helped himself to a red velvet cupcake. “I’ll take him off your hands if Lizzy only works until noon. After noon, she’s mine.”

“Deal,” Clara said. “Just get him out of here.”

Diesel left with the monkey and a dozen mini cupcakes.

“I’m afraid your cupcakes aren’t ready yet,” I told Shirley.

Shirley shrugged. She didn’t care. She dusted off her hands.

“You’re done with cupcakes?” I asked her.

She nodded.

“Completely?”

She nodded again, rebuttoned her blouse, smoothed her hair down, and left.

“I know I should be happy for her, but she was my best customer,” Clara said. “I need twenty new customers to make up for the loss of all those cupcakes.”

Diesel strolled through the front door of the bakery precisely at noon. I was transferring the last of the lunch pies into the refrigerated display case, and Glo was waiting on two women. The women turned and stared at Diesel, and one gave the other a nudge with her elbow.

Diesel looked like he was used to the stares and nudges. He stood just inside the door, thumbs stuck into his jeans pockets, not smiling, not frowning. Waiting.

“Be with you in a minute,” I told him.

I changed out of my chef jacket, grabbed my sweatshirt, tote bag, a couple bottles of water, and a box of meat pies, and I returned to the front of the shop. I smiled at the ladies and waved at Glo.

Diesel put his hand to the small of my back and ushered me out the door. “That box smells like lunch.”

“We had some meat pies that weren’t pretty enough to sell, but were still okay to eat.”

“How’s your appetite?”

“Back to normal. And Shirley canceled her cupcake order. Apparently, everything gets back to normal pretty quickly once the charm is removed.”

Diesel was parked at the curb in front of the bakery. We both got into the Cayenne, and I noticed Carl was buckled into the backseat. Carl gave me a little finger wave and the scary-monkey smile.

“What’s going on with the find-a-home-for-Carl program?” Diesel asked.

I gave a meat pie to Diesel and one to Carl, and I took one for myself. “Glo’s trying, but it doesn’t look hopeful.”

“No surprise,” Diesel said.

“Eep!” from the backseat.

“I hate hearing
Eep
,” Diesel said, checking Carl out in the rearview mirror. “
Eep
is never good.”

I looked over my shoulder and saw that Carl had meat pie all down the front of him and was carefully picking it out of his monkey fur with his little monkey fingers.

“No problem,” I said to Diesel. “He’s grooming.”

Twenty minutes later, we were in Beverly looking for Mark More’s apartment. We were close to the warehouse, in an area that was a mix of commercial and residential properties. There were small businesses at the sidewalk level on More’s street and apartments above. According to Gwen, More lived in one of those second-floor apartments.

“There,” I said to Diesel. “Number 29. He’s in the apartment above the dry cleaner.”

Diesel parked half a block away and locked Carl in the car. We took four steps, and Carl banged on the window.

“I think he wants to go with us,” I told Diesel.

Diesel turned and looked at Carl, and Carl shrunk back into his seat, hands in lap. We took four more steps, and Carl blasted us with the horn.

Beep, beep, beep!

“Jeez Louise,” I said to Diesel. “He’s going to have the entire neighborhood out on the sidewalk, and we’ll get charged with animal cruelty.”

Diesel walked back to the car, opened the door, and Carl bounced out.

“Behave yourself,” Diesel said to Carl.

Carl nodded his head and did the monkey smile. When Diesel turned his back to walk away, Carl gave him the finger.

“This isn’t a normal monkey,” I said to Diesel.

“Tell me about it.”

Diesel opened the downstairs door to Mark’s apartment, and we all trooped upstairs into the living room. Mark had only the bare essentials for furniture. A couch with a quilt draped over the back, a side table with a table lamp, a flat screen television set into a shelf system. Every other space was taken up with gnomes crammed into an eclectic assortment of glass-fronted display cases. China gnomes, plaster gnomes, wooden gnomes, bejeweled gnomes, paper gnomes, books dedicated to gnomes, intricately carved marble gnomes.

Carl rushed up to one of the cases and stared at the gnomes. “Eee?”

“Gnomes,” I told him.