The Southern Book Club's Guide to Slaying Vampires

by Grady Hendrix

  “We’re just asking you to go look at the mini-storage unit,” Grace said, surprising Patricia. “That’s all. Just because you’ve had some drinks with him at the Yacht Club doesn’t mean he’s hammered from purest gold.”

  Bennett fixed his eyes on her. His normally friendly face got red.

  “Are you arguing with me?” he asked. “Are you arguing with me in public?”

  The rage in his voice sucked the air out of the room.

  “I think we need to calm down,” Horse said, unsure of himself. “They’re just worried, you know? Patricia’s been through a lot.”

  “We’re worried about the children,” Slick said.

  “It’s true, Patricia has had some emotional blows recently,” Carter said. “And they’ve shaken her more than even I realized. You may not know this, but just a few weeks ago she accused James Harris of being a child molester. You women have all got fine minds, and I know how hard it is to find intellectual stimulation in a place like this. Add in the morbid books you read in your book club and it’s a perfect recipe for a kind of group hysteria.”

  “A book club?” Leland said. “They’re in a Bible study group.”

  The room went silent, and then Carter chuckled.

  “Bible study?” he said. “Is that what they call it? No, they meet once a month for book club and read those lurid true crime books full of gory murder photographs you see in drugstores.”

  Blood drained from the women’s faces. Slick’s hands twisted in her lap, knuckles white. Leland stared at her from across the room. Horse squeezed Kitty’s hand.

  “A covenant has been broken,” Leland said. “Between husband and wife.”

  “What’s going on?” Korey said from the living room door.

  “I told you to stay upstairs!” Patricia snapped, all the humiliation she felt erupting at her daughter.

  “Calm down, Patty,” Carter said, then turned to Korey, playing the gentle father figure. “We’re just having an adult conversation.”

  “Why’s Mom crying?” Korey asked.

  Patricia noticed Blue peering in from the dining room door.

  “I’m not crying. I’m just upset,” she said.

  “Wait upstairs, honey,” Carter said. “Blue? Go with your sister. I’ll come explain everything later, okay?”

  Korey and Blue retreated into the hall. Patricia heard them go up the stairs, too loudly and obviously, and in her head she counted the steps. They stopped before they reached the top and she knew they were sitting on the landing, listening.

  “I think everything’s been said that could possibly be said,” Carter pronounced.

  “You can’t stop me from going to the police,” Patricia said.

  “I can’t stop you, Patty,” Carter said. “But I can inform them that I believe my wife is not in her right mind. Because the first person they’ll call isn’t a judge to get a search warrant; it’ll be your husband. Ed’s made sure of that.”

  “You can’t keep sending the police on wild-goose chases,” Ed said.

  Carter checked his watch.

  “I think the only thing that remains are apologies.”

  Patricia’s spine turned to stone. This was something she could hold on to, this was ground on which she could stand.

  “If you think I’m going down to that man’s house and apologizing, you are deeply mistaken,” she said, drawing herself up, speaking as much like Grace as she could. She tried to make eye contact with Grace, but Grace stared miserably into the cold fireplace, not making eye contact with anyone.

  “You don’t have to go anywhere,” Carter said as the doorbell rang. “He’s agreed to come here.”

  Right on cue, Leland stepped into the hall and came back with James Harris. Unbelievably, he was smiling. James wore a white button-up oxford shirt tucked into a new pair of khaki pants, and brown loafers. He looked like someone who belonged on a boat. He looked like someone from Charleston.

  “I’m sorry about all of this, Jim,” Ed said, standing and shaking his hand.

  All the men exchanged firm handshakes and Patricia saw their shoulders relax, the tension in their faces dissolve. She saw that they thought of him as one of their own. James Harris turned to the women, studying each of their faces, stopping at Patricia.

  “I understand I’ve been the source of a whole lot of fuss and worry,” he said.

  “I think the girls have something they want to say,” Leland said.

  “I feel terrible to have caused all this commotion,” James said.

  “Patricia?” Carter prompted.

  She knew he wanted her to go first to set an example for the other women, but she was her own person, and she didn’t have to do anything she didn’t want to. He’d forced her to apologize once already. Not again.

  “I have nothing to say to Mr. Harris,” she said. “I think he’s not who he says he is and I think all anyone would need to do is look inside his mini-storage unit to see I’m right.”

  “Patricia—” Carter started.

  “I’m willing to let bygones be bygones if Patricia is,” James said, and stepped toward her with one hand outstretched. “Forgive and forget?”

  Patricia saw his hand and the whole room behind it blurred and she felt everyone’s eyes on her.

  “Mr. Harris,” she said. “If you don’t remove your hand from my face immediately, I’m going to spit on it.”

  “Patty!” Carter snapped.

  James gave a sheepish grin and pulled his hand back.

  “I thought we were friends,” he said. “I’m sorry for whatever I’ve done to offend you.”

  “Shake hands with him right this minute like an adult,” Carter said.

  “Absolutely not,” she said.

  “You are embarrassing yourself and the children,” Carter said. “I am asking you to apologize.”

  Then Grace saved the day.

  “Mr. Harris,” she said, standing and walking over to him. “Please accept my apologies. It seems our imaginations ran away with us.”

  He shook her hand and then, one after the other, each of the women stood and apologized, and shook his hand, and simpered, and curtsied, and kissed his ring, while Patricia sat there, at first simmering with hot rage, then going cold.

  “I’d like to ask something, if it’s not too much,” James Harris said.

  “At this point, I think we’re all willing to do whatever it takes to put this behind us,” Carter said.

  “The more you get to know me,” James Harris said, “the more you’ll realize I’m not some kind of super criminal. I’m just an ordinary man who’s fallen in love with this neighborhood and wants to be a part of it. We’re only scared of what we don’t know. I’ve been a source of a lot of anxiety for Patricia, and I’m sure she’s not the only one. I don’t want anyone to be afraid of me. I want to be your friend and your neighbor. So, if it’s okay with everyone, I’d like to join your book club as a full-time member. You had me as a guest once, and I think it’d be a good place where you could get to know the real me.”

  Patricia could not believe what she was hearing.

  “That is a generous and thoughtful suggestion,” Carter said. “Patty? Girls? What do you think?”

  Patricia didn’t say a word. She knew it didn’t matter what she thought anymore.

  “I think that’s a yes,” Carter said.

  CHAPTER 22

  Patricia didn’t want to talk that night, and Carter had the good sense not to push it. She went to bed early. Carter thought nothing was wrong? Let him worry about Korey and Blue. Let him feed them and keep them safe. Downstairs she heard him go out and bring back take-out Chinese for the kids, and the buzzing rise and fall of A Serious Conversation filtered up from the dining room. After Korey and Blue went to bed, Carter slept on the den sofa.

  The next morni
ng, she saw Destiny Taylor’s picture in the paper and read the story with numb acceptance. The nine-year-old had waited until it was her turn in the bathroom of her foster home, then took dental floss, wrapped it around her neck over and over, and hanged herself from the towel rack. The police were investigating whether it might be abuse.

  “I’d like to speak to you in the dining room,” Carter said from the door to the den.

  Patricia looked up from the paper. Carter needed to shave.

  “That child killed herself,” she said. “The one we told you about, Destiny Taylor, she killed herself just like we warned you she would.”

  “Patty, from where I’m standing, we stopped a lynch mob from running an innocent man out of town.”

  “It was the woman whose trailer you came to in Six Mile,” Patricia said. “You saw that little girl. Nine years old. Why does a nine-year-old child kill herself? What could make her do that?”

  “Our children need you,” Carter said. “Do you see what your book club has done to Blue?”

  “My book club?” she asked, off balance.

  “The morbid things y’all read,” Carter said. “Did you see the videotapes on top of the TV? He got Night and Fog from the library. It’s Holocaust footage. That’s not what a normal ten-year-old boy looks at.”

  “A nine-year-old girl hanged herself with dental floss and you won’t even bother to ask why,” Patricia said. “Imagine if that was your last memory of Blue—hanging from the towel rod, floss cutting into his neck—”

  “Jesus Christ, Patty, where’d you learn to talk this way?”

  He walked into the dining room. Patricia thought about not following, then realized that this wouldn’t end until they’d played out every single moment Carter had planned. She got up and followed. The morning sun made the yellow walls of the dining room glow. Carter stood facing her from the other end of the table, hands behind his back, one of her everyday saucers in front of him.

  “I realize I bear some of the responsibility for how bad things have gotten,” he said. “You’ve been under a great deal of stress from what happened with my mother, and you never properly processed the trauma of being injured. I let the fact that you’re my wife cloud my judgment and I missed the symptoms.”

  “Why are you treating me like this?” she asked.

  He ignored her, continuing his speech.

  “You live an isolated life,” Carter said. “Your reading tastes are morbid. Both your children are going through difficult phases. I have a high-pressure job that requires me to put in long hours. I didn’t realize how close to the edge you were.”

  He picked up the saucer, carried it to her end of the table, and set it down with a click. A green-and-white capsule rolled around in the center.

  “I’ve seen this turn people’s lives around,” Carter said.

  “I don’t want it,” she said.

  “It’ll help you regain your equilibrium,” he said.

  She pinched the capsule between her thumb and forefinger. Dista Prozac was printed on the side.

  “And I have to take it or you’ll leave me?” she asked.

  “Don’t be so dramatic,” Carter said. “I’m offering you help.”

  He reached into his pocket and pulled out a white bottle. It rattled when he set it on the table.

  “One pill, twice a day, with food,” he said. “I’m not going to count the pills. I’m not going to watch you take them. You can flush them down the toilet if you want. This isn’t me trying to control you. This is me trying to help you. You’re my wife and I believe you can get better.”

  At least he had the good sense not to try to kiss her before he left.

  After he was gone, Patricia picked up the phone and called Grace. Her machine picked up, so she called Kitty.

  “I can’t talk,” Kitty said.

  “Did you see the paper this morning?” Patricia asked. “That was Destiny Taylor, page B-6.”

  “I don’t want to hear about those kind of things anymore,” Kitty said.

  “He knows we’ve gone to the police,” Patricia said. “Think of what he’s going to do to us.”

  “He’s coming to our house,” Kitty said.

  “You have to get out of there,” Patricia said.

  “For supper,” Kitty said. “To meet the family. Horse wants him to know there are no hard feelings.”

  “But why?” Patricia asked.

  “Because that’s how Horse is,” Kitty said.

  “We can’t give up just because the rest of the men suddenly think he’s their pal.”

  “Do you know what we could lose?” Kitty asked. “It’s Slick and Leland’s business. It’s Ed’s job. It’s our marriages, our families. Horse has put all our money into this project he’s doing with Leland.”

  “That little girl died,” Patricia said. “You didn’t see her, but she was barely nine.”

  “There’s nothing we can do about it,” Kitty said. “We have to take care of our families and let other people worry about theirs. If someone’s hurting those children, the police will stop them.”

  She got Grace’s machine again, then tried Maryellen.

  “I can’t talk,” Maryellen said. “I’m right in the middle of something.”

  “Call me back later,” Patricia said.

  “I’m busy all day,” Maryellen said.

  “That little girl killed herself,” Patricia said. “Destiny Taylor.”

  “I have to run,” Maryellen said.

  “It’s on page B-6,” Patricia said. “There’s going to be another one after this, and another after that, and another, and another.”

  Maryellen spoke quiet and low.

  “Patricia,” she said. “Stop.”

  “It doesn’t have to be Ed,” Patricia said. “What were the names of those other two police detectives? Cannon and Bussell?”

  “Don’t!” Maryellen said, too loud. Patricia heard panting over the phone and realized Maryellen was crying. “Hold on,” she said, and sniffed hard. Patricia heard her put the phone down.

  After a moment, Maryellen picked it back up.

  “I had to shut the bedroom door,” she said. “Patricia, listen to me. When we lived in New Jersey, we came home from Alexa’s fourth birthday party and our front door was standing wide open. Someone broke in and urinated on the living room carpet, turned over all our bookcases, stuffed our wedding pictures in the upstairs bathtub and left it running so it backed up and flooded the ceiling. Our clothes were hacked to shreds. Our mattresses and upholstery slashed. And in the baby’s room they’d written Die Pigs on the wall. In feces.”

  Patricia listened to the line hum while Maryellen caught her breath.

  “Ed was a police officer and he couldn’t protect his own family,” Maryellen continued. “It ate him alive. When he was supposed to be at work he parked across the street and watched our house. He missed shifts. They wanted to give him a few weeks off, but he needed the hours, so he kept going in. It wasn’t his fault, Patty, but they sent him to pick up a shoplifter at the mall and the boy lipped off and Ed hit him. He didn’t mean to, it wasn’t even that hard, but the boy lost some of the hearing in his left ear. It was one of those freak things. We didn’t come down here because Ed wanted someplace quieter. We came down here because this was all he could find. Ed used up all his favors getting transferred.”

  She blew her nose. Patricia waited.

  “If anyone talks to the police,” Maryellen said, “they’re going to follow it back to Ed. That boy he hit was eleven years old. He will never find another job. Promise me, Patricia. No more.”

  “I can’t,” Patricia said.

  “Patricia, please—” Maryellen began.

  Patricia hung up.

  She tried Grace again. The machine was still picking up so she called Slick.

 
“I saw it in the paper this morning,” Slick said. “That poor girl’s mother.”

  Patricia’s heart unclenched.

  “Kitty is too frightened to do anything,” Patricia said. “She’s buried her head in the sand. And Maryellen is in a bad position because of Ed.”

  “That man is evil,” Slick said. “Look how he twisted us up like pretzels and made us seem like fools. He knew exactly how to get Leland’s trust.”

  “He says he got that money he put into Gracious Cay from Ann Savage,” Patricia said. “But that’s dirty money if I’ve ever seen it.”

  “I know, but he’s Leland’s business partner now,” Slick continued. “And I can’t accuse him of this kind of thing without cutting my own family’s throat. We’ve been there before, Patricia. I’m not going back there again. I will not do that to my children.”

  “This is about children’s lives,” Patricia said. “That matters more than money.”

  “You’ve never lost your house,” Slick said. “You’ve never had to explain to your children why they have to move in with their grandmother, or why you have to take the dog to the pound because food stamps don’t cover dog food.”

  “If you’d met Destiny Taylor you wouldn’t be able to harden your heart,” Patricia said.

  “My family is my rock,” Slick said. “You’ve never lost everything. I have. Let Destiny’s mother worry about Destiny. I know you think this makes me a bad person, but I need to turn inward and be a good steward to my family right now. I’m sorry.”

  Grace’s machine picked up again when she called back, so Patricia got her purse and went over to her house, stepping out into the blast furnace of the day. By the time she rang Grace’s bell, sweat was already seeping through her blouse. She let the echoes of the chimes die inside the house, then rang again. The doorbell got louder as Mrs. Greene opened the door.

  “I didn’t know you were helping Grace today,” Patricia said.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Mrs. Greene said, looking down at Patricia. “She’s feeling poorly.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Patricia said, trying to step inside.

  Mrs. Greene didn’t move. Patricia stopped, one foot on the threshold.