“Ahoy, mateys,” Josh said. “Welcome aboard.”
“Ahoy,” I said. “I was just knocked over by a moron who was running out of the museum.”
“Aye. He was rude in here as well, waving his sword, threatening the museum manager, demanding information on the poor soul in the cage.”
“What did the manager tell him?”
“That the museum got the pirate in the cage from a haunted house in Salem Willows. If you’re looking for more pieces of the coin, it would be a good place to start. I asked the manager if there were any fragments in the packing when the exhibit arrived, and he said there weren’t.”
“I’m not familiar with Salem Willows,” Diesel said.
“I’m going off my shift,” Josh said. “I can show you how to get there. It’s one of my favorite places. And just in case that rude red-haired scurvy swab is there, I’ll put him in his place.”
Josh whipped out his cutlass and slashed the air.
“Great,” Diesel said. “Just dial back on the slashing in the car, okay? It’s a loaner.”
“You can drop me off at the bakery on your way to the Willows,” I said to Diesel.
“Not gonna happen,” Diesel said. “I need you.”
“You have Josh.”
“Lucky me,” Diesel said.
“I need to do something about my hair.”
“Your hair looks great.”
“It has cake frosting in it!”
“Yeah, it’s making me hungry.”
“They’ll have food at Salem Willows,” Josh said.
“Done deal,” Diesel said, wrapping an arm around me, dragging me along.
—
Salem Willows is a derelict Coney Island–type of seaside amusement park that sits on a small spit of land stretching into Beverly Harbor northeast of the city. I thought it looked sleazy and disreputable and retro charming.
“Aargh,” Josh said, spreading his arms wide. “Housed on these grounds ye have the largest collection of vintage pinball machines in all of Massachusetts. ’Tis a vast treasure that includes a 1960 Official Baseball, which, in my pirate opinion, is the finest arcade game ever made. Plus there be Skee-Ball, classic videogames, redemption games, claw crane games, electro-mechanical games, air hockey, rail shooters, as well as Dance Dance Revolution and Drummania.”
We were standing at the edge of the parking lot, taking it all in.
“What are we looking for here?” Diesel asked.
“Dr. Caligari’s Cabinet of Terrors,” Josh said. “?’Tis the wreck of a house standing in the lee of the arcade.” He tipped his nose up and sniffed the air. “I doth smell something tasty, and I be craving a bite of food.”
Diesel gave him a twenty-dollar bill. “Lizzy and I are going into the terror house, and you’re in charge of lunch. And if you don’t stop talking like a pirate I’m going to punch you in the face.”
“Okay then. Good to know,” Josh said.
A big headless guy was at the Cabinet of Terrors entrance, selling tickets. His head was sitting on the floor by his feet, and I could see his eyes through the mesh in his shirtfront.
“If you want to go in it’s three bucks a head,” the guy said to Diesel.
“Really? A head?” Diesel said.