“That poor dog went after you like a hunk of raw meat.”
“Let’s not start this again,” I said. “Let’s just finish and get outa here before something else happens.”
It took about half an hour longer to complete the clean-up: vacuuming the carpet, wiping it with a damp sponge to take away some of the perfume, dumping the wastebasket in Slim’s garbage can in the alley behind her house and throwing in some old newspapers to hide the book and bits of glass, then finally putting everything away.
Back upstairs after returning the wastebasket to her bedroom, Slim brushed her hands against the front of her cut-off jeans. “I guess that does it.”
“Guess so,” I agreed. “Anything you want to take with you?”
“Depends on what we’ll be doing.”
“Going to the vampire show,” Rusty said.
“Maybe you are.” To me, she said, “Anyway, I guess I’ll just leave everything here for now. We can always come back and get stuff, depending on what we decide to do.”
“Go the vampire show,” Rusty repeated. This time, he grinned.
“Yeah, sure,” Slim said.
Downstairs, we hid all the weapons on the floor behind the living room sofa where we could get to them quickly if we needed them.
“I’ll be right back,” she said. Leaving us there, she hurried toward the back of her house. She returned a couple of minutes later with an inch-long strip of Scotch tape sticking to her fingertip.
“What’re you gonna do with that?” Rusty asked.
“Old Indian trick,” she said, and ushered us out of the house.
Standing in the entryway, she pulled the front door shut. Then she squatted down and I realized what she was doing. Not exactly an “old Indian trick.” More like a James Bond trick. She was sticking one end of the tape to the door’s edge, the other end to the frame.
When she stepped away, I glanced down but couldn’t quite see the transparent tape.
Neither would an intruder, more than likely.
Opening the door would either break the tape or pull it loose at one end or the other. Then we’d know that someone had entered Slim’s house.
“Did the same to the kitchen door,” she announced.
“Good idea,” I said.
Smirking, Rusty said, “Why not balance buckets of water on top of the doors and really nail ’em.”
She looked at him and raised her eyebrows.
I said, “Make it holy water.”
“There’s an idea,” Slim said.
Rusty frowned. He didn’t get it. So we both tried to explain to him about vampires and holy water while we crossed to the sidewalk and turned toward my house.
When we finished, he said, “I knew that.”
Chapter Twenty-eight
Mom’s car was gone from the driveway. The house seemed empty when we entered it, but I called out anyway and got no answer.
“She must’ve gone somewhere,” I muttered. It seemed odd that Mom would leave the house this late in the afternoon.
“Maybe she went to the store,” Slim suggested.
“Maybe.” That didn’t seem likely, since she’d done her grocery shopping that very morning. But maybe she’d forgotten to pick up buns or something, and decided to make a last-minute run.
On the kitchen table, I found a note in Mom’s handwriting.
Honey,
Your father just called from the hospital He has been hurt, but he tells me it is nothing to worry about. I am going to be with him. Don’t know when I’ll be back Go ahead and eat without us. Burgers are in the fridge. I’ll call when I can.
Try not to worry, your dad’s fine.
Love,
Mom
Slim and Rusty watched in silence while I read the message a couple of times. It gave me a cold lump in my stomach. When I finished with it, I said, “My dad’s in the hospital.”
Slim winced. “What’s wrong with him?”
Shaking my head, I handed the note to her. Rusty stepped up close beside her and they read it together.
“He can’t be very bad,” Slim said. “He was in good enough shape to phone your mom.”
“But he can’t be that good,” Rusty said, “or he wouldn’t be at the hospital.”
Scowling, I shook my head.
Slim put down the note. “What do you want to do?”
“I don’t know,” I muttered.
“Want us to go away?” Rusty asked.
“No. Huh-uh.” I pulled out a chair and sank onto it. “Why couldn’t Mom tell me what’s wrong with him?”