“My last bit of news is about witches,” I said, taking a breath to start on the real reason I was here. “Molly Everhart Trueblood came to New Orleans a little over forty-eight hours ago. And went missing. A vamp took her.”
I placed Molly’s note on the table beside Jodi. She studied it and said softly, “Her note seems a little terse for a wife talking to her husband, but it also suggests she went of her own volition. Like a guest and blood donor. I doubt the FBI would be concerned enough to launch an investigation. I know NOPD wouldn’t be.” Jodi looked away from the dread in my eyes. “There’s just not enough here, Jane.” Her tone still gentle, she said, “It’s not too early for a missing-person report to be filed, but you need to know that the switch in states makes it more difficult.”
“You want me to go to Missing Persons?” I said, my tone incredulous. “Are you kidding me?”
“No.” She lifted her eyes and met mine. “Her next of kin need to file it. And I’ll keep an eye out for her or any news about her. But there hasn’t been a crime committed. That’s all I can do at this point, until there’s more evidence.”
I shook my head, disbelieving, and heard myself say, “So when I find her dead, drained body, then you’ll take an interest?” Jodi pursed her lips as if to keep in words she couldn’t say to me. On one level I understood. She had a job description and bosses she had to account to for the use of her time. But still. “This sucks,” I said.
“Yes. It does. I’ll help if I can,” she said, soft and sympathetic.
Which was no help at all. Unwillingly, I said, “Her husband is in town helping me look for her. He’d be the one to file.”
Jodi nodded slowly and went to a box on one of the long tables in the room. From it she pulled a loose bunch of cards and shuffled through them, handing me one from the middle. “Here. Lou Redkin is currently over Missing. Tell him I gave you his info. He’ll help you work through the logistics. File the report as soon as you can. Meanwhile I’ll keep a lookout. I promise. And if you get something more than a note, I’ll push for an investigation.”
“Yeah. Thanks. I guess.” I felt blindsided by Jodi’s lack of help. I kept telling myself that I understood it. But it hurt in ways I wasn’t sure I comprehended yet. “Last thing,” I said, and Jodi gave me a little smile. I interpreted it as being because I came to see her with a laundry list of problems. I gave a “so sue me” shrug. “Two of Katie’s girls jumped ship after some vamp parties. It looks like they went of their own volition, but it’s odd that they haven’t contacted their friends, so I’m a little worried. I’ll send you the particulars.”
Jodi’s expression changed subtly. “Let me guess. One of them was the witch, Alis Rogan.”
Missing Persons would have no interest in missing working girls, especially a missing working girl who was also a witch. Which was why I’d brought it to her. “Yeah. The coincidence of Bliss and Molly missing at the same time isn’t lost on me,” I said. “Keep an eye out and call me if you hear anything?”
“Yeah. Ditto on Katie filing missing-persons reports, even though NOPD won’t do much with them.” I nodded. NOPD would bury everything I brought them.
“Before you go. The knives and bullets taken from the Council House?” she said, referring to vamp HQ by its proper name. She handed me a sheet of paper that looked like info copied from an Internet site.
I read aloud, “Datura: a native plant, common in flower gardens. It’s also known as Jimsonweed. This deadly poison is related to nightshade and tomatoes. The toxins in Jimsonweed are tropane belladonna alkaloids, which possess strong”—I stumbled over the next word—“anticholinergic properties.” I finished the article. “This is all about ingestion. Why put it on a blade?”
“Because it can affect people even through skin. Accidental poisoning by gardeners has been reported. And because it’s easy to find and easy to use. Somebody was intending to send you on a psychedelic trip and/or kill you.”
And had gone about it in a weird way, especially considering my skinwalker metabolism. I’d likely have . . . What? Would it have metabolized out fast? Or would it have interfered with my skinwalker shape-changing? Too many people knew about me and what I was. Maybe this was a test as much as a murder attempt? I didn’t know how to feel about it. I folded the paper in half, over and over, until it was small enough to tuck into a pocket. I stood and gathered up the trash, tossing it into the nearby can, and putting the top on the coffee for later.
Jodi said, softer, “Jimsonweed is especially bad for witches. It makes them lose concentration, so they have trouble completing spells.”
“So why would they use it on me?” I asked. I shook my head. “Unless they thought I was a witch. Not.” I’d have to think about this awhile. “Beers when you’re done with the case?” I asked.
Jodi studied me as if evaluating my nonreaction. “Beers and burgers,” she amended.
I nodded and left the woo-woo room, making my way back up from the bowels of the building and back home in the SUV.
CHAPTER 10