“You got a good reason to say that, Mors?” Lieutenant French gave me a hard look. “Like a reason that the rest of us couldn’t have?”
I thought about it, but in the end, I couldn’t justify my feeling with anything. ‘I think I’m seeing someone’ sounded stupid, even to me. “No, sir.”
“Fine. We’re going to send her to a nice cell for a nap. When she wakes up in three hours we’re going to feed her lunch, and then you two are going to find out what is going on. Crying and hysterics be damned, I will not have someone sending zombies after my officers. Dismissed,” he finished with an angry tone.
I’d never been dismissed like that before. It felt harsh.
Danny and I pushed papers until lunchtime. Presumably Marie slept. At lunch, I grabbed a sandwich from downstairs. The cafeteria food was heavenly as always. I don’t know whose idea it was to let a real deli owner open up shop in our basement, but I cherished them for it.
“Here’s something interesting,” Danny said, sifting through evidence reports while he ate. “There’s a note here on the stationery of the Wolf Protection League.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“The WPL is sort of like a pride group for werewolves. They’re not big, but they’re loud. A werewolf is fired or discriminated against, and you’ll see them. Huh, I wonder…” his voice trailed off.
“I wonder too, could that be where Marie found her two werewolf thugs?”
“Or could she have gone there for protection from them?” he countered. “I want to hate her as much as you do. I’m not ashamed to admit I had nightmares about those hands, but maybe Marie really is a victim.”
“Maybe.” I sounded doubtful even to myself. “What does the note say?”
“It’s a series of numbers; some of them are in sequence, some of them aren’t. Here.” He slid the report over to me, a greasy fingerprint pointing toward the details. They were four-digit numbers, some with a dash and a letter. This was where a real detective would have a flash of insight, while all I could do was check to see that none of them was my phone number.
“Hey, I know this one.”
“You do? how?” Danny asked.
“You know it too. It’s the numeric part of the address of the chocolate shop,” I said. “I had to write it down last night for Jakob.”
“Don’t tell me any crazy sex stuff, Mal, just check the rest of the numbers,” he joked. They checked out: the QuikStop was fifth on the list, the chocolate shop eighth. Everyone we had talked to yesterday was on the list, with several numbers to spare. Danny dragged a map of the area out and we matched the addresses to a four-block radius. The note listed Rakesh’s entire neighborhood.
“What does that mean?” I asked, hoping the universe would send me an answer.
Instead Danny said, “Finish your lunch and we’ll go find out.”
I looked down at my sandwich hungrily but not before catching a glimpse of my mystery woman behind Danny. This time I didn’t look too hard for her, I expected she would keep vanishing until something happened. Maybe she wanted me alone, but maybe she was waiting for a break in the case. Thinking it might be the latter, I hurried through my lunch. When I finished, we went to visit Marie. The uniform cop who brought her to the interview room muttered ‘crazy’ as he walked out. Danny and I exchanged glances. There wasn’t much we could do with a suspect who acted crazy. Marie didn’t look crazy when we walked in, just crafty and calculating. It was quite a switch from this morning.
“You said you would protect me. How do you suppose you’re going to do that?” she asked before we could sit down.
“We’ll put you in our most secure cell, the vampire cell. Even a vampire couldn’t get out or into it. This building is secure, but for extra security we’ll keep a guard at the door,’’ Danny said. “What do you need protecting from, Marie?”
“What do you think I need protecting from? From him, that’s what.” She shivered and the intelligence in her eyes started to melt away. “He’s a stone cold killer. He scared me out of my wits last night, telling me I did it wrong. I’ve seen what he does to animals. I don’t want to see what he can do to people.”
“You’re pretty powerful yourself. Who this person that you’re so afraid?” Danny asked carefully.
“A wolf, the biggest nastiest wolf you’ve ever seen. I knew him before he was a wolf though. He was dangerous and insane even then. Now he’s in the middle of this, and he pulled me into it with him.” She looked at me. “They’ll take you too. They’ll take anyone they can get.”
“Marie, two days ago you sent a zombie to destroy a store. Did he ask you to do that?”
“No, he told me to get the store, he didn’t say how. Zombies I can control, a little powder here, a sacrifice there. Zombies are dumb, but they’re easy. Him and his kind, I didn’t realize how they were. That’s why you should have left my altar alone, left my protection in place.” She began to mutter to herself in a mix of languages.
“Marie,” Danny began gently, “we need to know who you’re talking about so we can protect you.”
“Protect me? Ain’t no force on earth that can protect me. I need to appeal to the saints and loas, and beg them for mercy. Didn’t I tell you I’m the inheritor of Laveau? They’ll listen to me. That’s why I need my altar back, to make the right prayers.” She kept on in the same vein for twenty minutes, always the same vague fearful thoughts followed by assertions that no one could help, then finally talking about how powerful she was before starting the cycle over again.
Finally Danny and I gave up. We headed back to our desks, dejected. Another pair of detectives would try again; maybe they’d have better luck. Still, there were too many hours left in the day to start writing reports. We decided to visit the offices of the WLP, to see if Madame Marie’s big, bad wolf had a name.
Chapter Five
The offices of the Wolf Protection League were less than a block from the Quikstop. We passed Indigo’s shop on our way over. Somehow, we managed to fight the temptation to go in.
“Funny coincidence, the offices of the WPL being in the same neighborhood as the zombie attack, the werewolf extortion ring, and the voodoo queen, I mean, what are the odds?” I asked Danny, trying to keep the grin off my face.
“High but odds are funny things. Take you and the stiff for example. There are nearly 100,000 people even in this city, maybe 10% are witches, maybe 1 or 2% are werecreatures, fairies, goblins, you know, a supernatural mish-mash. So 11,000 or even 12,000 are people in touch with the supernatural, but vampires, we only have 200 vampires, if that. I’m betting more like 100, but I’d like to give the benefit of the doubt.”
“Annnd?”
“The odds say you’d never end up with a vampire. What do you think the chances are that out of 100,000 people, there are 200 vampires, and you end up with one? I mean that’s a really small chance, isn’t it?”
“But I did,” I replied. “So while the odds say there might be something going on…”
“The wolves might be completely on the up and up. Even if it is a wolf, it might not be one of the ones at the WPL, but, if you hear wings, you think seagulls not dragons.”
“I thought it was horses and zebras?” I asked.
“I’m Irish, besides there’s nothing scary about zebras. I’m more than a little nervous about you turning furry before the end of this case.”
“I don’t think you get more than one supernatural eccentricity, and you know I’m fairly eccentric as is,” I joked. A second later I wasn’t so sure. “Seriously though, could they turn me?”
“It’s an infection. They can turn pretty much anybody, well except a vampire, they’re already dead. And I guess our new friend, Indigo, is immune. If you’re born a werejaguar, I’ll bet the werewolf virus doesn’t do much to you. Maybe a handful of things don’t have to worry, but you’re not one of them” Danny pulled into a parking space and shook his head. “I wish this case would slow down, there are too many questions piling up f
or my taste.”
“So far we have a voodoo priestess who was operating an extortion ring with werewolves. When approached she responded with magic. One voodoo, two werewolves, and three zombies that’s hardly enough for the evening news,” I calculated.
“You didn’t count the hands,” Danny said grimly, getting out of the car. The WPL had converted an old grocery store into an office. The front of the building was still half windows, from the street we could see the bullpen with smartly dressed people working at battered desks. It reminded me of television’s view of a campaign office, only instead of a would-be congressman there were pro-werewolf posters on the wall.
Walking in we saw one that showed a young mother tucking her kids into bed in one frame and changed into a wolf asleep at the foot of the bed in another. The caption read, “A family is a family.” Other posters contained generic statements that could have covered any minority: “Werewolves vote” and “Wolf workers, a reliable choice.”
One, clearly an unauthorized cartoon, depicted a single man lifting an entire couch with a caption to the effect that everyone wanted to be a werewolf on moving day. I wasn’t sure if I agreed with the posters, but I was glad to see a large countdown clock telling us there were twenty-nine hours until the next full moon.
A southern-looking blond greeted us, walking from behind a desk to shake our hand. I guess they didn’t expect anyone to be nervous about touching someone who might be a wolf.
“Welcome to the WPL, I’m Lisa, how can I help you today?” she smiled. She reminded me of some sorority sisters I had interviewed a month back, impeccably put together but not all there mentally. Her smile didn’t touch her eyes, even as they looked Danny up and down like a piece of meat. He didn’t respond well to her visual inspection and flashed his badge.
“Detectives Gallagher and Mors. We’d like to talk to someone about case we’re investigating in the area.” He gave her a hard look.
“Of course, that would probably be Tom, he’s our president.” She led us through the desks and filing cabinets to the back of the room.
No one looked up as we walked past. It was odd. Normal people would have at least glanced at us. Then I realized they didn’t need to glance, their sense of smell was enough that they knew we were carrying firearms, and their sense of hearing was probably good enough that they caught the entire conversation.
At the back of the building, someone had partitioned off rooms with portable dividers. Here and there, tall filing cabinets had been used to create walls. Behind one makeshift wall, we found Tom, the president. His desk was another surplus sale special, but his presence changed the room. He was wrapping up a phone call, his voice eager as he waved us in.
“All we’re asking for is a chance, Marsha. I don’t think that’s so unreasonable. The boy scouts meet after school, the girl scouts do too, why not wolf scouts? Our kids deserve a club of their own where they aren’t freaks.” He paused, listening to some reply. “Look, I know you want to do the right thing, so ask yourself, if it was a group of black kids or a group of disabled kids, then would you let us meet? I’ll talk to you later about this.” He hung up and looked at Lisa. She didn’t bother to explain, only pointed at us, and walked out.
“Please sit down. You’re here about the zombie attacks down the block, right?” He offered us an all-American handshake. “We’re all grateful they didn’t end up in here.”
“You don’t think your people could have protected themselves?” Danny asked.
“Could or should, that’s the argument, detective. My people could protect themselves, but when one of us does anything at all violent, we’re treated like the aggressors. There was a case in Minneapolis last year where a woman was almost raped, her assailant had a record, but she fought back as a wolf. Guess who was attacked by the police with a Taser when they were found?” He paused for a moment remembering the case, and then shook his head. “No, we’re grateful you have the suspect responsible in custody, so there are no misunderstandings.”
“Actually that’s what we’re here to talk to you about. Our suspect claims one of your people accosted her last night. She’s incoherent with fear. We were hoping you could help us find that wolf,” Danny said.
“Wait a second, detective, that wasn’t one of my people. It’s not what we do here.” He gestured toward the front of the building. “We’re working for equal rights, for equal protection under the law.”
“So you deny that two werewolves were working with Madame Marie, attempting to extort money from local businesses?” Danny’s bored tone betrayed his contempt for politicians and their evasive answers.
“I don’t deny anything, I don’t know. It’s possible, that a pair of young wolves could be corrupted into doing something like that. You have to understand, detective, we have the highest rate of incarceration and the lowest rate of employment of any minority. These kids would feel like they had no choice. That’s one of the things we’re working to change.”
“I don’t understand, because so many of you are in jail, you justify the ones that aren’t committing crimes. That doesn’t make sense. Shouldn’t having a high percentage of werewolves in jail mean that you all work harder not to commit crimes?” I asked, genuinely confused by his logic.
“You think that way, but you didn’t grow up surrounded by prejudice. Have you ever heard of the learned helplessness theory, detective? You should look it up. It exemplifies the workings of the common werewolf mind. That’s why my organization is so important, and frankly, I’m insulted that the police are investigating us before looking into a known Voodoo practitioner,” he ended with a huff.
“You know Madame Marie then?” Danny asked, careful to pick up on the politician’s admission.
“Not personally, one of my workers here came from New Orleans, looking to leave that religion behind. He had a past, a few brushes with the law, but it was nothing compared to what the many practitioners of voodoo in the city had done: animal sacrifice, sexual abuse of minors. These people have no moral code. It’s disgusting.
When Madame Marie came to the neighborhood, he told me all about her.” He took a deep breath and looked me in the eye. “He was scared. The woman raises zombies. It’s unnatural. She’s a freak.”
“Sort of like a death witch?” I asked.
“Nothing of the sort,” he said, doing a quick 180. “You’re in the same boat as the rest of us: you have no choice in what you are. People like Marie, they choose to do evil, and they choose to live outside of the law. We don’t choose. Society paints us with the same brush, but no one here is chopping the heads off chickens or talking to snakes. We’re good people.”
“So you have no idea who this fearsome killer wolf could be?” I asked.
“None. I can introduce you to Remi, the wolf who knew her in New Orleans, but honestly, he’s stayed so far away from her I’m sure he doesn’t know anything.” Tom leaned back and interlaced his fingers behind his head. “We’re like every other citizen down here: scared of what people like Madame Marie can do and glad we have you to protect us.”
Danny and I exchanged looks. It was political garbage, the lies fanatics tell themselves, but was it trotted out for our benefit or what Tom really believed? Neither of us could tell.
“We’d like to meet Remi, if we could,” Danny said.
“Of course, just a second.”
Tom didn’t get up or lean forward, but a second later, a tall thin man appeared in the doorway. Tom offered a quick introduction. “Remi LaLaurie, detectives Mors and Gallagher. They have some questions about Madame Marie.”
His eyes were hard, the kind of eyes that didn’t tell you anything no matter how many times you looked into them. He had sandy blond hair cut in a 1980s mullet. His suit and string tie looked wrong for his oily skin and the two days’ stubble on his face. I didn’t like that he had just turned up. Sure, werewolves could hear things I would never pick up, but I suspected Remi had been deliberately listening in on our conversation.
“What kind of meeting is that?” Danny said, casually.
“It’s a real estate transaction,” Remi answered. His voice had a touch of an accent, like it had been heavy once until someone beat it out of him. “I handle real estate for the office. We’re hoping to buy some homes in the area for halfway houses for recovering werewolves.”
“Recovering?” I asked. There was no cure for the disease that made a werewolf. It was like becoming a vampire. Once you changed, you couldn’t go back.
“You would say ‘recovering’, we say ‘emerging’. Most people come to us as the result of an attack. They need a safe place to recover, somewhere where they won’t be treated like freaks. Someplace where they can pass the time until their first full moon, the first time they change.” He looked at Tom, who smiled and nodded. “We’re hoping to provide that place, to take some of the horror out of the change.”
“That’s a noble cause,” Danny said. “Changing can be hard for people. Why don’t we give Tom back his office?”
We ended up in another makeshift room. This one had one wall of filing cabinets, one real wall, and two fabric screens. If the werewolves were in on the extortion scam, they hadn’t spent the money on office furniture. Remi offered us coffee which Danny gladly accepted. I wanted to ask him what he meant by the ‘changing can be hard’ comment but remembered that everyone in the building could hear me. It was unsettling. I didn’t have any problem with werewolves per se, but not being able to have a private conversation bothered me. It didn’t bother Remi, though. He started talking without a second thought.
“I’m grateful to you for bringing Marie in. I’ll sleep better knowing she’s not out there,” he started.
“Why is that?” Danny asked.
Under a Blood Moon Page 7
