The Southern Book Club's Guide to Slaying Vampires - Grady Hendrix Page 0,110

little drainage ditch that ran between two property lines from this side of the block to the other. When it rained, the ditch carried the overflow water off Pitt down to the harbor. But it hadn’t rained in weeks and now it was a swampy trickle, with a worn path the children used as a shortcut between blocks running alongside it.

She stepped off the root-cracked sidewalk and walked to his house along the path, as fast as possible, feeling like eyes were watching her the entire way. James Harris’s backyard lay in the heavy shadow of his house, and it was as chilly as the water at the bottom of a lake. His grass didn’t get enough light and the yellowed blades crunched beneath her feet.

She walked up the stairs to his back porch and paused, looking back to see if she could spot Slick, but she hadn’t gotten there yet. She kept moving, wanting to get out of sight as soon as possible. She knocked on the back door.

Inside, she heard a vacuum cleaner whirl down and a minute later the weather seal cracked and the door opened to reveal Mrs. Greene in a green polo shirt.

“Hello, Mrs. Greene,” Patricia said, loudly. “I came to see if I could find my keys. That I left here.”

“Mr. Harris isn’t home,” Mrs. Greene responded loudly, which let Patricia know that the other woman working with her was nearby. “Maybe you should come back later.”

“I really need my keys,” Patricia said.

“I’m sure he won’t mind if you look for them,” Mrs. Greene said.

She stepped out of the way, and Patricia came inside. The kitchen had a large island in the middle, half of it covered by some kind of stainless-steel grill. Dark brown cabinets lined the walls, and the refrigerator, dishwasher, and sink were all stainless steel. The room felt cold. Patricia wished she’d brought a sweater.

“Is Slick here yet?” Patricia asked quietly.

“Not yet,” Mrs. Greene said. “But we can’t wait.”

A woman in the same green polo shirt as Mrs. Greene came in from the hall. She wore yellow rubber dishwashing gloves and a shiny leather fanny pack.

“Lora,” Mrs. Greene said. “This is Mrs. Campbell from down the street. She thinks she left her keys here and is going to look for them.”

Patricia gave what she hoped looked like a friendly smile.

“Hi, Lora,” she said. “Pleased to meet you. Don’t let me get in your way.”

Lora turned her large brown eyes from Patricia to Mrs. Greene, then back to Patricia. She reached down to her belt and unclipped a mobile phone.

“There’s no need,” Mrs. Greene said. “I know Mrs. Campbell. I used to clean for her.”

“I’ll just be a minute,” Patricia said, pretending to scan the granite countertops. “I know those keys are somewhere.”

Her huge brown eyes still on Mrs. Greene, Lora flipped the phone open and pressed a button.

“Lora, no!” Patricia said, too loudly.

Lora turned and looked at Patricia. She blinked once, holding the open phone in her yellow rubber hand.

“Lora,” Patricia said. “I really do need to find my keys. They could be anywhere and it might take me a while. But you won’t get in any trouble for what I’m doing. I promise. And I’ll pay you for the inconvenience.”

She had left her purse at home, but Mrs. Greene had told her to bring money, just in case. She reached into her pocket and pulled out four of the five ten-dollar bills she’d brought and placed them on the kitchen island closest to Lora, then stepped away.

“Mr. Harris won’t be coming back until tomorrow,” Mrs. Greene said.

Lora stepped forward, took the bills, and made them disappear into her fanny pack.

“Thank you so much, Lora,” Patricia said.

Mrs. Greene and Lora left the kitchen and the vacuum cleaner roared back to life, and Patricia looked out the back window to see if she could spot Slick coming up the path, but it was empty. She turned and walked through the wide front hall and looked out the window by the door. The glass