The Southern Book Club's Guide to Slaying Vampires(85)

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 was artfully rippled to make it seem as if it were antique. Slick’s Saab wasn’t in the driveway. It wasn’t like her to be late, although if she’d lost her nerve at the last minute maybe that wasn’t the worst thing in the world. She didn’t know how Lora would react to two of them searching the house.

Besides, there wasn’t much in it. The kitchen drawers were empty. The cabinets barely contained any food. No junk drawer. No magnetized advertisements from the exterminator or the pizza delivery people on the fridge door. No toaster on the countertops, no blenders, no waffle irons, no George Foreman grills. It was the same all over the house. She decided to go upstairs. If he had anything personal it was more likely to be hidden there.

She started up the carpeted stairs, the vacuum cleaner noise falling away below her. She stood in the upstairs hall lined with closed doors and suddenly felt like she was on the verge of making a terrible mistake. She shouldn’t be here. She should turn around and leave. What had she been thinking? She thought about Bluebeard where the bride was told not to look behind a certain door by her husband and of course she did and discovered the corpses of his previous brides. Her mother had told her the moral of the story was that you should trust your husband and never pry. But wasn’t it better to know the truth? She headed for the master bedroom.

The master bedroom smelled of hot vinyl and new carpet, even though the carpet must be two years old by now. The bed was made neatly and had four posts, each one crowned with a carved pineapple. An armchair and table sat by the window. On the table was a notebook. Every page was empty. Patricia looked in the walk-in closet. All the clothes hung in dry-cleaner bags, even his blue jeans, and they all smelled like cleaning chemicals.

She searched the bathroom. Combs, brushes, toothpaste, and floss, but no prescriptions. Band-Aids and gauze but nothing that told her anything about the occupant. It smelled like sealant and Sheetrock. The sink and the shower were dry. Patricia went back to the hall and tried again.

She went from room to room, opening empty closets, looking inside empty drawers. Everything smelled like fresh paint. Every room echoed emptily. Every bed was carefully made up with pristine pillow shams and decorative pillows. The house felt abandoned.

“Find anything?” a voice said, and Patricia leapt into the air.

“Ohmygoodness,” she gasped, pressing her hand to the middle of her chest. “You scared me half to death.”

Mrs. Greene stood in the doorway.

“Did you find anything?” she repeated.

“It’s all empty,” Patricia said. “Slick hasn’t come by, has she?”

“No,” Mrs. Greene said. “Lora is having lunch in the kitchen.”

“There’s nothing here,” Patricia said. “This is pointless.”

“There’s nothing in this entire house?” Mrs. Greene said. “Nowhere? Are you sure you looked?”

“I looked everywhere,” Patricia said. “I’m going to leave before Lora changes her mind.”

“I don’t believe that,” Mrs. Greene said.

Her stubbornness provoked a flash of irritation from Patricia. “If you can find something I missed, by all means, feel free,” she said.

The two of them stood, glaring at each other. The disappointment made Patricia irritable. She’d come this far, and now nothing. There was no path forward.

“We tried,” she finally said. “If Slick comes, tell her I came to my senses.”

She walked past Mrs. Greene, heading for the stairs.

“What about that?” Mrs. Greene said from behind her.