Jillian Cade by Jen Klein

the last time we’ve been able to definitely place him is at his own apartment on Thursday night. Sometime between when everyone went to bed and when Corabelle woke up on Friday morning, he left and nobody knows where he was going. It could have been anything. A drug score, a booty call—”
    â€œA succubus booty call.”
    I tried very hard not to roll my eyes. I was mostly successful. “Anyway, we need to find out who Todd was going to see downtown.”
    â€œIt’s whoever he met on Wednesday,” said Sky.
    â€œYou don’t know that.”
    â€œBy all appearances, until he ran into a succubus, he was really into Corabelle.”
    â€œPeople lie,” I said.
    â€œCynic,” Sky said, but he laughed, and I couldn’t help but laugh too.
    â€œMeeting a succubus on Wednesday is the only reason that makes sense,” Sky went on. “Why else would Todd have canceled his date with Corabelle that night? He would have been all hellsick.”
    â€œHellsick,” I repeated. “Listen to yourself.”
    â€œAnd tormented,” he added, ignoring my comment. “So Todd spent the night like that. Desperate. Suffering. He tried to shake it off and have a normal breakfast with Corabelle. Except he couldn’t be normal because he’d already been infected. So he didn’t talk to her all day, didn’t sleep with her that evening, and then at some point in the night or early morning, he couldn’t take it anymore. He left to find the succubus.”
    I kept my eyes on the road. “You know I think that’s ridiculous, right?”
    â€œThink whatever you want, but Todd was going downtown for someone.”
    â€œThat, at least, I can agree with. He either bought those roses for Corabelle or for a new girl he was seeing.”
    â€œOr for a succubus,” said Sky.
    â€œWhoever they were for, she never got them.”
    I didn’t need to turn my head to know Sky was nodding. “Because before Todd Harmon could deliver them . . . ”
    I finished the sentence for him. “He disappeared.”

Eleven
    Howard’s Flowers was in Sherman Oaks on Ventura Boulevard between a 99¢ Store and a McDonald’s. When Sky and I walked in, Howard was nowhere to be found. Unless, of course, the slim, pig-tailed girl behind the counter was Howard. Which I doubted, since her nametag said she was Susan.
    â€œCan I help you?” she asked us.
    â€œWe’re looking for information about one of your customers from last week,” I said, stepping in front of Sky. Yes, he had done a good job at the tow yard. But this was still my case. I was in charge.
    â€œWhy?” said Susan.
    â€œWe’re private investigators,” said Sky from behind me.
    Susan looked both of us over. “Really?”
    â€œ Junior private investigators,” said Sky.
    â€œThe customer’s name is Todd Harmon,” I told her, trying to sound as old beyond my years as possible.
    â€œHe came in on Wednesday,” said Sky.
    â€œ Maybe on Wednesday,” I said.
    Susan wrinkled her nose like she was thinking really hard. “I was here on Wednesday. I worked almost every day last week because Tori had to take some time off. She caught scabies from her boyfriend.”
    Apparently Susan had no problem handing out information. But that was fine. It was actually good for our purposes. My purposes.
    â€œSorry about your friend,” said Sky.
    â€œOh, she’s not my friend,” said Susan. “She’s a skanky ho.”
    For once, it appeared that Sky didn’t know how to respond. I jumped in. “Speaking of skanky hos, we think this Todd Harmon guy has one on the side.”
    â€œAssface,” said Susan.
    â€œHe bought a bouquet of roses from your store.”
    With a shake of her head, Susan dove beneath the counter and came up with a vinyl bag. She unzipped it and rummaged around until she found a wad of credit card