The Southern Book Club's Guide to Slaying Vampires - Grady Hendrix Page 0,154

rose up from the surrounding houses. Someone activated an airhorn. The game was over.

“We can’t do this,” Maryellen said. “Someone will come looking for him and they’ll know he was killed the second they open that door.”

“Stop whining,” Grace snapped. “You’re looking for columbariums C-24 and C-25, Maryellen. I’m sure you can find those. You and Kitty are the least messy, so you’re driving to Stuhr’s.”

“What are you going to do?” Maryellen asked. “Burn this place down?”

“Don’t be absurd,” Grace said. “Mrs. Greene and I will stay behind. We’ve been cleaning up after men our entire lives. This is no different.”

Headlights snapped on up and down the street as drunk football fans stumbled to their cars, hollering and calling to one another in the dark. A ground mist lay low on the road.

“But—” Maryellen began.

“If ifs and buts were candy and nuts it would be Christmas every day,” Grace said. “Now scoot.”

Kitty and Maryellen limped for the minivan. Grace closed the door behind them and turned to Mrs. Greene.

“It’s a lot of work,” Mrs. Greene said.

“Between us we’ve been cleaning houses for eighty years,” Grace said. “I believe we’re up to the challenge. Now, we’ll need baking soda, ammonia, white vinegar, and dishwashing detergent. We’ll need to get the sheets and towels in the washer, and spray the carpets first so they can soak while we work.”

“We should wash the towels and that duvet in the shower,” Mrs. Greene said. “Get it real hot and take a hard bristle brush to them with some salt paste. Then put it in the dryer with plenty of fabric softener.”

“Let’s see if we can find some hydrogen peroxide for these bloodstains in the carpet,” Grace said.

“I prefer ammonia,” Mrs. Greene said.

“Hot water?” Grace asked.

“No, cold.”

“Interesting,” Grace said.

* * *

—

Around midnight, Maryellen called them from a gas station pay phone.

“We’re done,” Maryellen said. “C-24 and C-25. They’re sealed tight and I’ll clean up the database in the morning.”

“Mrs. Cavanaugh is just ironing the sheets,” Mrs. Greene said. “Then we have to shampoo the carpets, put things away, and we’re done.”

“How does it look?” Maryellen asked.

“Like no one ever lived here,” Mrs. Greene said.

“How’s Patricia?”

“Sleeping,” Mrs. Greene said. “She hasn’t made a sound.”

“Do you want me to come pick you up?”

“Go home,” Mrs. Greene said. “We don’t want people to think this is a public parking lot. I’ll get a ride.”

“Well,” Maryellen said. “Good luck.”

Mrs. Greene hung up the phone.

She and Grace finished ironing the sheets, put the duvet back on the bed, and inspected the house for any bloodstains they’d missed. Then Grace walked home and got her car while Mrs. Greene hauled Patricia downstairs, switched off the radio, turned off the lights, and used James Harris’s keys to lock the front door behind her.

Bennett had passed out on the downstairs sofa, so they put Patricia in Grace’s guest bedroom, and then Grace called Carter.

“She wound up watching the game over here after visiting Slick at the hospital,” she told him. “She fell asleep. I think it’s better not to wake her.”

“Probably for the best,” Carter said. He’d had a lot to drink so it came out prollyferthebersh. “I’m glad you girls are friends again.”

“Good night, Carter,” Grace said, and hung up.

She drove Mrs. Greene home and let her out in front of her dark house.

“Thank you for all your help,” Grace said.

“Tomorrow,” Mrs. Greene said, “I’m going to drive up to Irmo and bring my babies home.”

“Good,” Grace said.

“You were wrong three years ago,” Mrs. Greene said. “You were wrong, and you were a coward, and people died.”

They stood, considering each other in the glow of the car’s ceiling light, as the engine idled. Finally Grace said something she’d almost never said before in her life.

“I’m sorry.”

Mrs. Greene gave a