The Southern Book Club's Guide to Slaying Vampires

by Grady Hendrix

  “Horse is at the Yacht Club with Leland,” Kitty said. “Again.”

  As July had gotten hotter, Leland had convinced Horse to put what money he could scrape together into Gracious Cay. Then the Dow had surged and Carter had cashed out some AT&T shares Patricia’s father had given them as a wedding present and he’d put that money into Gracious Cay, too. The three men had all started going out for dinner together, or meeting for drinks at the back bar of the Yacht Club. Patricia didn’t know where Carter found the time, but male bonding seemed to be the in thing these days.

  “Patricia,” Grace said, pulling a sheet of paper from her purse. “I wrote all your talking points down in an outline just in case you needed to jog your thoughts.”

  Patricia looked at the handwritten list, numbered and lettered in Grace’s careful calligraphy.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  “Do you want to go over it again?” Grace asked.

  “How many times are we going to hear this?” Kitty asked.

  “Until we have it right,” Grace said. “This is the most serious thing we’ve ever done in our lives.”

  “I can’t keep hearing about those children,” Kitty moaned. “It’s horrible.”

  “Let me see it,” Maryellen said, reaching toward Patricia.

  Patricia handed her the paper and Maryellen scanned it.

  “Lord help us,” she said. “They’re going to think we’re a bunch of crazies.”

  They sat around Patricia’s kitchen table. The living room had fresh cut flowers in it, the furniture was new, and the lights were just right. They didn’t want to go onstage until it was time. No one had much to say. Patricia went over her list in her head.

  “It’s eight o’clock,” Grace said. “Should we move to the living room?”

  People pushed back their chairs, but Patricia felt like she needed to say something, give some kind of pep talk, before they committed themselves to this.

  “I want everyone to know,” Patricia said, and they all stopped to listen. “Once the police get here there is no turning back. I hope everyone’s prepared for that?”

  “I just want to go back to talking about books,” Kitty said. “I want this all to be over with.”

  “Whatever he’s done,” Grace said, “I don’t think James Harris is going to want to call any more attention to himself after tonight. Once the police start asking him questions, I’m sure he’ll leave the Old Village quietly.”

  “Let’s hope you’re right,” Slick said.

  “I just wish there were another way,” Kitty said, shoulders slumping.

  “We all do,” Patricia said. “But there isn’t.”

  “The police will be discreet,” Maryellen said. “And this will all be over very quickly.”

  “Will y’all join me in a moment of prayer?” Slick asked.

  They bowed their heads and joined hands, even Maryellen.

  “Heavenly Father,” Slick said. “Give us strength in our mission, and make us righteous in your cause. In thy name we pray, amen.”

  Single file, they walked through the dining room and into the living room, where they arranged themselves and Patricia realized her error.

  “We need water,” she said. “I forgot to put out ice water.”

  “I’ll get it,” Grace said, and disappeared into the kitchen.

  She brought the water back at five after eight. Everyone adjusted and readjusted their skirts, their collars, their necklaces and earrings. Slick took her three rings off, then put them back on, then took them off again, and put them back on one more time. It was 8:10, then 8:15.

  “Where are they?” Maryellen muttered to herself.

  Grace checked the inside of her wrist.

  “Ed doesn’t have a car phone, does he?” Patricia asked. “Because we could call if he does and see where he is.”

  “Let’s just sit tight,” Maryellen suggested.

  At 8:30 they heard a car pull up in the driveway, then another.

  “That’s Ed and the detectives,” Maryellen said.

  Everyone came awake, sat up straighter, touched her hair to make sure it was in place. Patricia walked to the window.

  “Is it them?” Kitty asked.

  “No,” Patricia said, as they heard car doors slam. “It’s Carter.”

  CHAPTER 21

  “Did he forget something?” Maryellen asked behind her.

  Patricia looked out the window and felt everything falling apart around her. She watched as Carter and Blue got out of the Buick and Leland’s BMW parked behind them. She saw Bennett’s little Mitsubishi pickup drive past the end of their driveway and park at his house, and then Bennett got out and came up her drive, joining Carter and Blue. Ed emerged from the back seat of Leland’s gold BMW in a short-sleeved shirt tucked into his blue jeans, wearing a knit tie. Rumpled old Horse hauled himself out of the passenger side of Leland’s car and hitched up his pants. Leland got out of the driver’s seat and pulled on his summer-weight, polyester blazer.

  “Who is it?” Kitty asked from the sofa.

  Maryellen got up and stood next to Patricia, and Patricia felt her stiffen.

  “Patricia?” Grace asked. “Maryellen? Who all’s there?”

  The men shook hands and Carter saw Patricia standing in the window and said something to the rest of them and they trooped up to the front porch in single file.

  “All of them,” Patricia said.

  The front door opened, and Carter walked into the hall, Blue right behind him. Then came Ed, who saw Maryellen standing at the base of the stairs and stopped. The rest of the men piled up behind him, hot evening air billowing in around them.

  “Ed,” Maryellen said. “Where are Detectives Cannon and Bussell?”

  “They’re not coming,” he said, fiddling with his tie.

  He stepped toward her, to take her shoulder or stroke her cheek, and she jerked herself backward, stopping at the base of the banister, holding on to it with both hands.

  “Were they ever coming?” she asked.

  Keeping eye contact, he shook his head. Patricia put one hand on Maryellen’s shoulder, and it hummed beneath her like a high-tension line. The two of them stood aside as Carter sent Blue upstairs and the men filed past them and crowded into the living room. Carter waited until they were all inside, then gestured to Patricia like a waiter ushering her to her table.

  “Patty,” he said. “Maryellen. Join us?”

  They allowed themselves to be led inside. Kitty wiped tears from her cheeks, face flushed. Slick stared at the floor between her and Leland and he glared at her, both of them holding very, very still. Grace made a point of studying the framed photo of Patricia’s family hanging over the fireplace. Bennett looked past them all, through the sun porch windows, out over the marsh.

  “Ladies,” Carter said. Clearly the other men had elected him their spokesman. “We need to have a serious talk.”

  Patricia tried to slow her breathing. It had gotten high and shallow and her throat felt like it was swelling closed. She glanced at Carter and saw how much anger he carried in his eyes. “There aren’t enough chairs for everyone,” she said. “We should get some of the dining room chairs.”

  “I’ll get them,” Horse said, and moved to the dining room.

  Bennett went with him, and the men hauled chairs into the living room and there was only the clattering of furniture as everyone arranged themselves. Horse sat next to Kitty on the sofa, holding her hand, and Leland leaned against the door to the hall. Ed sat backward in a dining room chair, like someone playing a policeman on TV. Carter sat directly across from Patricia, adjusting the crease in his dress pants, the cuffs of his jacket, putting his professional face on over his real face.

  Maryellen tried to regain the initiative.

  “If the detectives aren’t coming,” she said, �
�I’m not sure why you’re all here.”

  “Ed came to us,” Carter said. “Because he heard some alarming things and rather than risk y’all embarrassing yourselves in front of the police and doing serious damage to both yourselves and to your families, he did the responsible thing and brought it to our attention.”

  “What you have to say about James Harris is libelous and slanderous,” Leland cut in. “You could have gotten me sued into oblivion. What were you even thinking, Slick? You could have ruined everything. Who wants to work with a developer who accuses his investors of dealing drugs to children?”

  Slick lowered her head.

  “I’m sorry, Leland,” she said to her lap. “But children—”

  “‘On the day of judgment,’” Leland quoted, “‘people will give account for each careless word they speak.’ Matthew 12:36.”

  “Do you even want to know what we have to say?” Patricia asked.

  “We got the gist,” Carter said.

  “No,” Patricia said. “If you haven’t heard what we have to say, then you have no right to tell us who we can and can’t speak to. We’re not our mothers. This isn’t the 1920s. We’re not some silly biddies sitting around sewing all day and gossiping. We’re in the Old Village more than any of you, and something is very wrong here. If you had any respect for us at all, you’d listen.”

  “If you’ve got so much free time, go after the criminals in the White House,” Leland said. “Don’t fabricate one down the street.”

  “Let’s all slow down,” Carter said, a gentle smile on his lips. “We’ll listen. It can’t hurt and who knows, maybe we’ll learn something?”

  Patricia ignored the calm, medical-professional tone of his voice. If this was his bluff, she’d call it.

  “Thank you, Carter,” she said. “I would like to speak.”

  “You’re speaking for everyone?” Carter asked.

  “It was Patricia’s idea,” Kitty said, from the safety of Horse’s side.

  “Yes,” Grace said.

  “So tell us,” Carter said. “Why do you believe that James Harris is some master criminal?”

  It took a moment for her blood to stop singing in her ears and settle to a duller roar. She inhaled deeply and looked around the room. She saw Leland staring at her with his face stretched taut, practically shimmering with rage, his hands jammed deep in his pockets. Ed studied her the way policemen on TV watched criminals dig themselves in deeper. Bennett stared out the windows behind her at the marsh, face neutral. Carter watched her, wearing his most tolerant smile, and she felt herself shrinking in her chair. Only Horse looked at her with anything approaching kindness.

  Patricia released her breath and looked down at Grace’s outline, shaking in her hands.

  “James Harris, as you all know, moved here around April. His great-aunt, Ann Savage, was in poor health and he took care of her. When she attacked me, we believe that she was on whatever drugs he’s dealing. We think he’s selling them in Six Mile.”

  “Based on what?” Ed asked. “What evidence? What arrests? Have you seen him selling drugs there?”

  “Let her finish,” Maryellen said.

  Carter held out a hand and Ed stopped.

  “Patricia.” Carter smiled. She looked up. “Put your paper down. Tell us in your own words. Relax, we’re all interested in what you have to say.”

  He held out his hand, and Patricia couldn’t help herself. She handed him Grace’s outline. He folded it in thirds and tucked it into his jacket pocket.

  “We think that he gave this drug,” Patricia said, forcing herself to see Grace’s outline in her head, “to Orville Reed and Destiny Taylor. Orville Reed killed himself. Destiny Taylor is still alive, for now. But before they died they claimed to have met a white man in the woods who gave them something that made them sick. There was also Sean Brown, Orville’s cousin, who was involved in drugs, according to the police. He was found dead in the same woods where the children went, during the same period. In addition, Mrs. Greene saw a van with the same license plate as James Harris’s in Six Mile during the time this was all happening.”

  “Did it have the exact same license plate number?” Ed asked.

  “Mrs. Greene only wrote down the last part, X 13S, but James Harris’s license plate is TNX 13S,” Patricia said. “James Harris claims he got rid of that van, but he’s keeping it in the Pak Rat Mini-Storage on Highway 17 and has taken it out a few times, mostly at night.”

  “Unbelievable,” Leland said.

  “Sean Brown was involved in the drug trade, and we think James Harris killed him in a horrible way to teach other drug dealers a lesson,” Patricia said. “Ann Savage died with what you’d call track marks on the inside of her thigh. Destiny Taylor had something similar. James Harris must have injected something into them. We believe that if you examine Orville Reed’s body you’ll find the same mark.”

  “That’s very interesting,” Carter said, and Patricia felt herself getting smaller with every word he spoke. “But I’m not sure it tells us anything.”

  “The track marks link Destiny Taylor and Ann Savage,” Patricia said, remembering Maryellen’s advice during one of their rehearsals. “James Harris’s van was seen in Six Mile even though he says he’s never been to Six Mile. His van is no longer at his house, but he’s keeping it in Pak Rat Mini-Storage. Orville Reed’s cousin was killed because of what’s going on. Destiny Taylor suffers from the same symptoms as Orville Reed did before he killed himself. We don’t think you should wait for Destiny Taylor to follow his example. We believe that while this evidence is circumstantial, there is a preponderance of it.”

  Maryellen, Kitty, and Slick all looked from Patricia to the men, waiting for their reaction. They gave none. Thrown, Patricia took a sip of water, then decided to try something they hadn’t rehearsed.

  “Francine was Ann Savage’s cleaning woman,” she said. “She went missing in May of this year. The day she went missing, I saw her pull up in front of James Harris’s house to clean.”

  “Did you see her go inside?” Ed asked.

  “No,” Patricia said. “She was reported missing and the police think she went somewhere with a man, but, well, you have to know Francine to realize that’s—”

  Leland’s voice rang out loud and clear. “I’m going to stop you right there. Does anyone need to hear more of this nonsense?”

  “But, Leland—” Slick began.

  “No, Slick,” Leland snapped.

  “Would you ladies be open to hearing another perspective?” Carter asked.

  Patricia hated his psychiatric voice and his rhetorical questions, but she nodded out of habit.

  “Of course,” she said.

  “Ed?” Carter prompted.

  “I ran that license plate number you gave me,” Ed said to Maryellen. “It belongs to James Harris, Texas address, no criminal record except a few minor traffic violations. You told me it belonged to a man Horse and Kitty’s girl was dating.”

  “Honey’s dating this guy?” Horse asked in a shocked voice.

  “No, Horse,” Maryellen said. “I made that up to get Ed to run the plates.”

  Kitty rubbed Horse’s back as he shook his head, dumbfounded.

  “I’ll tell you,” Ed said. “I’m always happy to help out a friend, but I was pretty damn embarrassed to meet James Harris thinking he was a cradle robber. It was a cock-up of a conversation until I realized I’d been played for a fool.”

  “You met him?” Patricia asked.

  “We had a conversation,” Ed said.

  “You discussed this?” Patricia asked, and the betrayal made her voice weak.

  “We’ve been talking for weeks,” Leland said. “James Harris is one of the biggest investors in Gracious Cay. Over the past months he’s put, well, I won’t tell you how much money he’s put in, but it’s a substantial sum
, and in that time he’s demonstrated to me that he’s a man of character.”

  “You never told me,” Slick said.

  “Because it’s none of your business,” he said.

  “Don’t be upset with him,” Carter said. “Horse, Leland, James Harris, and I have formed a kind of consortium to invest in Gracious Cay. We’ve had several business meetings and the man we’ve gotten to know is very different from this murderous, drug-dealing predator you describe. I think it’s safe to say that we know him significantly better than you do at this point.”

  Patricia thought she’d knitted a sweater, but all she held in her hands was a pile of yarn and everyone was laughing at her, patting her on the head, chuckling at her childishness. She wanted to panic. Instead, she turned to Carter.

  “We are your wives. We are the mothers of your children, and we believe there is a real danger here,” she said. “Does that not count for something?”

  “No one said it didn’t—” Carter began.

  “We’re not asking for much,” Maryellen said. “Just check his mini-storage. If the van’s there, you can get a search warrant and see if it links him to these children.”

  “No one’s doing anything of the sort,” Leland said.

  “I asked him about that,” Ed said. “He told us he did it because he thought all you Old Village ladies didn’t like his van parked in his front yard, bringing down the tone of the neighborhood. Grace, he told me you said it was killing his grass. So he got the Corsica, and put the van in storage because he couldn’t bear to let it go. He’s spending eighty-five dollars a month because he wants to fit in better with the neighborhood.”

  “And for that,” Leland said, “you want to drag his name through the mud and accuse him of being a drug dealer.”

  “We are men of standing in this community,” Bennett said. His voice carried extra weight because he hadn’t spoken yet. “Our children go to school here, we have spent our lives building our reputations, and y’all were going to make us laughingstocks because you’re a bunch of crazy housewives with too much time on your hands.”