Wicked Business by Janet Evanovich Page A

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.”
    Diesel’s eyebrows rose ever so slightly, and he looked over at me.
    “It turns out Glo was able to see the hidden message in the painting.”
    “I’m special,” Glo said. “I have hope, and I’m going to find true love.”
    “The message also contained nine numbered bells. And there was a man’s name,” I told Diesel.
    “Charles Duane,” Glo said. “We Googled him and found out he was the rector of Old North Church a long time ago. So we went to the church, and I got a date with the bellringer, and we’re just inches from saving the world.”
    Diesel leaned against the counter and ate his pie. “I have a feeling there’s some stuff missing from the middle of that.”
    “There are eight bells in the bell tower of Old North,” I said. “The painting showed nine numbered bells, and we learned that Charles Duane asked to be buried with a small replica bell that’s sometimes referred to as the ninth bell.”
    “I bet there’s a secret message on the bell, just like on thepainting,” Glo said. “Or even better, the Luxuria Stone might be stashed away with the bell and Charlie.”
    Diesel finished his pie and moved on to a chocolate cupcake. “The perfect ending to the perfect day … I get to go grave robbing. Could it get any better?”
    “The church is going to be locked,” I said. “It’ll have an alarm system. And last time, you didn’t have such great luck with the alarm. It might be better to go in during the day, when there’s no alarm. Glo and I can distract people away from the stairs that lead to the crypts.”
    “How am I going to get a bell out to the car?” Diesel asked.
    “Maybe it would fit in a backpack.”
    I couldn’t believe I was now plotting to steal the bell, when less than an hour ago, I’d almost run off the road in a blind panic over stealing the painting.
    “I like it,” Diesel said. “I’m comfortable with procrastination. And the Bruins are playing again tonight.”
    Diesel fills up a house. He’s surprisingly quiet, but his energy permeates every nook and cranny. The house feels masculine and safe, although truth is, he probably draws more danger than he scares away. I feel compelled to maintain my independence and shoo him back to his own apartment, but the disturbing reality is that I like having him here.

CHAPTER ELEVEN
    Thursdays are usually quiet at the bakery. It was one o’clock and the lunch rush was done rushing. I had the dishwasher loaded and baking trays stacked in the sink for scrubbing. Clara had just put the day’s last loaves of bread into the oven. Glo was alone in the shop, reading Ripple’s Books of Spells , trying to find something that would reverse the charm she put on Hatchet.
    We had the door to the kitchen open for air. It was sixty degrees out, with a brilliant blue sky and a hint of a breeze. I heard a car pull into the little back lot, two doors opened and closed, and Diesel ushered an old man into the work area.
    The man was about 5′10″ and bony. He had pure white hair, beady eagle eyes, and huge old man ears.
    “I don’t know why I’m getting dragged around like this,” he said. “You get to be an age where you should do what you want and not have someone telling you to do this and do that and don’t do this and don’t do that. You’re lucky I’m so easygoing, or I’d be complaining to somebody. I’ve got rights, you know. And