“They go to hotels and restaurants, mostly,” Mark said. “They’re the crummy little things they put on your pillow or have out in a bowl.”
“I’m interested in your inheritance,” Diesel said to Mark.
“From Uncle Phil? What about it?”
“I’d like to see it,” Diesel said.
“No can do,” Mark said. “Uncle Phil wanted it kept secret.”
“The object you inherited might be putting you in danger,” I said. “Has anyone else approached you about it?”
“Nope. Just you. And there’s no way it could put me in danger, except from Uncle Phil.”
If I looked over Mark’s shoulder, I could see the mountain of junk glittering under the overhead lights. It appeared that most of the pieces were silver or brass, with an occasional small splash of color. I left Diesel to talk to Mark, and I wandered closer, skirting the backhoe to get a better look at whatever was filling an entire corner of the warehouse. It took me a moment, but then I got it. I was looking at a mammoth collection of padlocks. Some were large, some were small, some were real, and some looked like trinkets.
I returned to Diesel and Mark, and from both men’s body language I assumed things weren’t going well.
“So,” I said. “What’s happening?”
“Your friend is a nutcase,” Mark said to me. “He thinks my inheritance is possessed.”
“I didn’t say it was possessed,” Diesel said. “Possessed implies that demons or other disincarnate entities have temporarily taken control of a body. I said the inheritance was possibly infused with a dangerous energy.”
“How about I infuse you with a bullet up your butt if you don’t leave,” Mark said. “I have a gun.”
“I’m curious,” I said to Mark. “This was the only address we could find for you. Do you live here?”
/> “Just about. My wife got the house and the dog in the divorce settlement, so I found a little apartment not far from here.”
“Is the divorce recent?”
“It’s been a couple years. She said I liked my collections more than I liked her . . . and that probably was true. I get a lot of satisfaction from my lock collection here. Lately, I pretty much eat, sleep, and dream locks.”
“Boy, that’s really interesting,” I said.
“Yeah,” Diesel said, cutting his eyes to the junk corner. “Interesting.”
“Well, I guess we should be moving on,” I said to Mark. “Sorry if Diesel was an annoyance. I’ll take him home and give him a pill.”
“I know Uncle Phil was weird,” Mark said, “but he wasn’t some voodoo guy.”
“Of course not,” I said. “Did you ever see him change a cat into a fry pan?”
“No, but I saw him change an opossum into a flowerpot. I could never figure out how he did it. It was Uncle Phil’s best trick. It was like one of those Vegas magicians making a school bus disappear.”
We said adios to Mark, let ourselves out, and climbed into Diesel’s SUV. Diesel drove half a block down the street, made a U-turn, and parked.
“Waiting for Mark to leave?” I asked.
“Yep.”
“Do you know what he inherited?”
“No, but I know where to start looking. If it’s a charm in the shape of a lock, it’s probably going to be at the bottom of the pile, since it would have been his first lock.”
“This could be fun,” I said. “I always wanted to run a backhoe.” I looked at my watch. “It’s going to be a long night. We should get some snacks to tide us over. Maybe a bucket of chicken.”
“Honey, you just ate ten doughnuts.”