“Glo’s in trouble,” I said to Diesel.
“Where is she?”
“Don’t know.”
“This doesn’t look good for the dessert, does it?” Diesel said.
“We should go over to her apartment and see if she’s okay.”
Diesel took a box of cereal out of the cupboard and handed it to Carl.
“Knock yourself out,” Diesel said. “Bananas Foster when we get back.”
Carl grabbed the box and gave Diesel the finger.
I snagged a sweatshirt out of the coat closet and hung my tote bag on my shoulder. It had started to rain and the temperature was dropping.
“Search and rescue of senior citizens isn’t in my job description,” Diesel said.
“You only do what’s in your job description?”
He opened the door to the Porsche for me. “Apparently not.”
Diesel drove through Marblehead and crossed into Salem. He was a block from Glo’s apartment when she darted into the road in front of the car. Diesel hit the brakes, and I was thrown against my shoulder harness.
“You gotta love the ceramic brakes,” Diesel said. “I have a distant relative in New Jersey who drives a black Porsche Turbo, and I’m beginning to see why. I’m liking this car.”
Glo yanked my door open. “Let me in. They’re after me!”
I jumped out, and Glo climbed into the miniseat in the back, taking Broom and her bag with her. I got back in, and Diesel cruised down the block, past Glo’s apartment. She lives in a large house that had been built for a single family in the ’50s and converted into four apartments in the ’70s. There was some paint peeling off the window frames, and the yard was minimally maintained, but it was in a relatively safe part of town, and it was in Glo’s budget.
A black Cadillac Escalade was parked in front of the house. Headlights were on and windshield wipers were working. Windows were tinted. No way to know who was inside. Diesel made a U-turn and pulled to the curb a block away, so we could watch the Escalade.
“It was Rutherford,” Glo said. “I saw him through my peephole, and I wouldn’t let him in, so he broke down my door. Honestly, that is so rude.”
“What did he want?” I asked.
“He said he feared somehow Mr. Ammon had been put under an evil spell, and he wanted me to lift it. I tried to explain that it wasn’t so simple, but he wasn’t listening. He kept saying how Mammon was angry. And time was short. That Mammon had awakened but wasn’t able to achieve his full potential in his present form.”
“His present form being that he thinks he’s a poodle?” Diesel asked.
“More like a rabid honey badger,” Glo said. “Rutherford had a big bite mark on his hand. When he saw me looking at the bite mark he said that Mammon had a hunger that needed feeding. And then he mumbled something about human sacrifice.”
“Human sacrifice isn’t good,” I said. “That never ends well.”
“How did you get away?” Diesel asked.
“Rutherford was explaining his predicament to me, and all of a sudden Martin Ammon burst into my apartment. He was totally nutso. Wild eyed and drooly. His shirt was all wrinkled and not tucked in and full of food stains, and his hair was a mess. There were two security men who came in with him, but they looked like they were afraid to get too close. Ammon was making growly sounds, and between the growly sounds he was saying ‘Mammon wants. Mammon wants.’ It was really creepy.”
“And then what happened?”
“I’d just made myself a ham and cheese sandwich. It was sitting on my kitchen counter, and Ammon ate it. He sniffed the air, spied the sandwich, and dove for it. In two seconds there was nothing left of the sandwich. No crumbs. Nothing. He looked over at Rutherford and growled and snapped at him. And then he turned and ran out of my apartment.”
“And?”
“Everyone ran after him. I could hear them trying to catch him in the hall, and I didn’t waste any time getting out. I grabbed Broom and my tote bag and went out the window. I called Lizzy, but my phone went dead.”
The front door to Glo’s apartment building crashed open and Ammon ran out, chased by three men in suits. Rutherford ran behind them, doing his best to keep up. They ran down the street, cut into a yard, and disappeared in the misting rain.