The Southern Book Club's Guide to Slaying Vampires - Grady Hendrix Page 0,34

artifacts, or something improbable like that. Well, they had this fancy slide presentation and real nice folders, and that’s all it took for Horse to write them a check.”

“Leland could have told him that was a scam,” Slick said.

“Leland?” James asked.

“My husband,” Slick said, and James Harris turned his attention to her. “He’s a developer.”

“I’ve been thinking of investing in real estate if I could find the right project,” James Harris said.

Grace’s face looked carved from stone and Patricia really, really wished they’d talk about anything besides money.

“Right now we’re working on a project called Gracious Cay.” Slick beamed. “It’s a gated community we’re building out by Six Mile. It’s going to really elevate the surroundings. Gated communities let you choose your neighbors so the people around you are the kind of people you want around your children. By the time this century is over I expect just about everyone will live in a gated community.”

“I’d be interested in hearing more about it,” James said, which prompted Slick to go into her purse and hand him a business card.

“Where are you from, Mr. Harris?” Grace asked.

Patricia started to say that his father was in the military and he’d grown up all over when James Harris said, “I grew up in South Dakota.”

“I thought your father was in the military?” Patricia asked.

“He was,” James Harris said with a nod. “But he ended his career stationed in South Dakota. My parents got divorced when I was ten, so I was raised by my mother.”

“If everyone’s finished with the third degree,” Maryellen said, “I’d like to get this month’s book over with.”

“Her husband’s a police officer,” Slick pointed out to James. “It’s why she’s so direct. By the way, maybe you want to join us this Sunday at St. Joseph’s?”

Before he could answer, Maryellen said, “Can we please put this book out of my misery?”

Slick gave James Harris a We’ll continue this later smile.

“Didn’t y’all just love The Bridges of Madison County?” she asked. “I thought it was such a relief after last month. Just a good old-fashioned love story between a woman and a man.”

“Who is clearly a serial killer,” Kitty said, keeping her eyes on James Harris.

“I think the world is changing so quickly that people need a hopeful story,” Slick said.

“About a lunatic who travels from town to town seducing women, then killing them,” Kitty said.

“Well,” Slick said. Thrown, she looked down at her notes and cleared her throat again. “We chose this book because it speaks about the powerful attraction that can exist between two strangers.”

“We chose this book so you’d stop going on about it,” Maryellen said.

“I don’t think there’s any actual evidence he’s actually a serial killer,” Slick said.

Kitty picked up her copy, bristling with bright pink Post-it notes, and waggled it in the air.

“He doesn’t have any family ties, no roots, no past,” Kitty said. “He doesn’t even belong to a church. Very suspicious in today’s world. Did you see the new driver’s licenses? They have a little hologram on them. I remember when they were just a piece of cardboard. We are not a society that lets people roam around with no fixed address. Not anymore.”

“He has a fixed address,” Slick protested, but Kitty rolled on.

“Then he sails into town and do you notice he doesn’t talk to anyone? But he targets this Francesca who’s all alone, because that’s what they do. These men find a vulnerable woman and arrange an ‘accidental’ meeting and they’re so smooth and seductive that she invites him into her home. But when he visits he’s very careful no one sees where he parks his truck. Then he takes her upstairs and does things to her for days.”

“It’s a romantic story,” Slick said.

“I think he’s feebleminded,” Kitty said. “Robert Kincaid uses his cameras as hand weights, and he plays folk music on his guitar, and as a child he sang French cabaret songs and covered his walls with words and phrases he found ‘pleasing to his