Cat looked at me and blinked.
“I’m going to take that as a yes,” I told Cat.
I wasn’t hungry anymore, and I had no desire to be spanked. All good things. I found my notebook right where I left it, open on the kitchen counter. I selected a recipe that didn’t require butter and went to work. An hour later, Diesel walked into the kitchen with Carl close on his heels.
“It smells good in here,” Diesel said. “What are you making?”
“Corn muffins. They just came out of the oven.”
“Doesn’t look like you’ve eaten any.”
“I don’t ever want to eat again.”
Diesel selected a muffin and ate half. “This is delicious.”
“I added roasted corn and jalapeños to that batch.”
“Eep?” Carl asked.
Diesel gave him the remaining half muffin. Carl crammed it all into his mouth, and crumbs fell out onto the floor.
“You need to learn table manners,” Diesel said to Carl.
Carl thought about it a beat and gave Diesel the finger.
“I’m surprised you get along so well with Carl,” I said to Diesel. “You don’t strike me as being a monkey person.”
“I can take ’em or leave ’em,” Diesel said. “I guess I’ve always been more of a dog person. Dogs eat shoes and burp and dig holes in the backyard. I can relate to all that.”
Carl stuck his belly out, opened his mouth wide, and burped.
“Good one,” Diesel said. “But you’re going back to Monkey Rescue if you eat my shoes.”
I cleaned the crumbs up. “I’ve been thinking about Mark and how he saves things and pushes them around with his backhoe. It reminds me of Uncle Scrooge.”
Diesel was blank-face.
“Didn’t you ever read Donald Duck comics when you were a kid?” I asked him.
“No. I read Spider-Man and Swamp Thing.”
“Figures. Long story short is that Scrooge was Donald’s rich uncle. Scrooge hoarded money and treasures in a big money bin, and he pushed it all around with a bulldozer. But here’s the good part. The first dime he ever made he kept with him because it was his lucky dime.”
Diesel selected another muffin. “So you’re saying you think Mark keeps his inheritance close to him, like Scrooge’s dime.”
“Yes.”
“It’s as good a theory as any.”
I checked the time. “When do you suppose Mark goes home?”
“Hard to say. If he leaves at the close of business, he should be home now. If he stays to rearrange his lock collection, he could be at work all night.” Diesel’s phone rang, and he looked at the readout. “Bingo,” Diesel said.
He had a short conversation, paused, and the line of his mouth tightened. He listened for a beat and disconnected.
“What was that about?” I asked.
“Mark was home. Borderline hysterical. He asked if I thought it was Wulf who made the mess. I said it was possible. He said he was scared. Didn’t know what to do. And then he said oh no! There was a sound like a gunshot or small explosion and the line went dead.”