“No. Uncle Phil was a scary old coot, but he didn’t have any obsessions like Lenny and me. Uncle Phil preached everything in moderation.”
“Do you know where he kept the objects he distributed as inheritances?”
“No. The estate lawyer had a locked fireproof metal chest on his desk when we filed in. He unlocked the chest and took out the will and the inheritances. Each inheritance was in its own little box, tied up with a gold ribbon. We were told not to open the box until we were alone, at home. My box contained the dragonfly charm and a slip of paper with the bad luck warning.”
“Do you still have the slip of paper?”
“No. Instructions were to destroy it and never speak of it. And there was a short video that came out of the chest. The lawyer played it in his office. It was Uncle Phil, looking like he’d risen from the dead, repeating the bad luck warning. It scared the crap out of all of us, including the lawyer.”
“Have you had any other dealings with the lawyer?” Diesel asked.
“No. He died a few months after Uncle Phil. Secretly, I was half afraid it was because he talked about the inheritances. I know that’s stupid, but the whole thing was creepy. What’s this all about anyway?”
“Your dragonfly was part of a larger treasure,” Diesel told him. “It probably doesn’t have a lot of monetary value, but it’s a collectible.”
“Must be a heck of a collectible,” Mark said. “That Wolf guy isn’t normal.”
He’d got that one right. Not normal was an understatement. Of course, if you wanted to get technical, it turns out I might not be entirely normal, either.
“Uncle Mark,” one of the kids called. “Kenny pooped in his pants again.”
“Trust me,” Mark said to Diesel. “You’re better off with the monkey.”
“Hard to believe,” Diesel said. “Is there anything else you can tell us about the inheritance?”
Mark shook his head. “Uncle Phil took his secrets to the grave.”
“And that would be where?” Diesel asked.
“His grave? There’s a family plot in the old cemetery next to the Presbyterian church on Oyster Hill Road.”
A kid waddled to the edge of the living room. “I made poo,” he announced.
I wasn’t crazy about cemeteries, but Phil’s grave held more appeal than Melody’s living room. I’d like to think I had maternal instincts locked away in me somewhere, but the truth is, at the moment, they for sure didn’t reach out to a kid who made poo.
“Good idea,” I said to Diesel. “Let’s talk to Phil.”
Diesel grinned down at me. “Abandoning Mark’s sinking ship?”
“Absolutely.”
“Call me if you think of anything new,” Diesel said to Mark.
“That was my last bag of candy,” Mark said. “I’m a dead man.”
Carl was still watching the movie when we reached the Cayenne. The cupcake box was empty on my seat, and Carl had icing stuck in his fur.
/> Diesel angled behind the wheel and rolled the engine over. “I was looking forward to those cupcakes.”
“Take me home, and I’ll make more.”
“I thought you were all hot to visit Uncle Phil.”
“Well, yeah, who wouldn’t want to go to the cemetery and talk to a dead guy? It’s just that I thought you really wanted cupcakes, and I wouldn’t mind if you talked to Uncle Phil without me. That way, I could stay home and bake, and you could do your communing-with-the-departed thing.”
Diesel drove out of Melody’s neighborhood and went south to Oyster Hill Road. “You aren’t afraid of cemeteries, are you?”
“Of course not. I might not like them as much as a shopping center, but I’m not afraid of them. That would be dumb. I mean, it’s not as if zombies live there.”