The Southern Book Club's Guide to Slaying Vampires(61)

“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.