Dru Faust and the Devil's Due

Part 18

We walked back to the corner to catch the next streetcar, but I had a sudden idea, remembering how well stocked the liquor cabinet had been. "The party was on Friday night, wasn't it?"

Alexandra came to a halt beside me. "Yes. Why?"

"Because it's Sunday. No one will have collected last week's garbage yet."

"Do you really want to go searching through some stranger's trash?"

"I couldn't take the bottle in the house. They would have noticed. But if there were as many people at the party as you say, there should be at least a few empty bottles, right?"

Exchanging a look, we both veered away from the sidewalk, following a rutted path to the alley between the two rows of houses.

A low fence encircled the yard of the green and purple house. More lilac bushes bordered both the yard and the house, where the porch wrapped all the way around. Near the back door, two bins waited to be put out for collection the next day.

"Do you see anyone?" I whispered, eying the windows. She shook her head.

I unlatched the gate. The July afternoon was turning uncomfortably hot; most people had taken shelter indoors, where they could open windows or even find refuge in the breeze of an electric fan and some iced tea or lemonade.

Praying the tall bushes would be enough to keep me hidden, I crossed the soft grass in a few long strides, ducking my head below the level of the nearest bush as I quietly raised the lid on one of the bins.

The stench of old food slapped me in the face. I gagged, glanced at the large paper bag full of kitchen scraps, and quickly put the lid back.

"Jackpot," I whispered, peering into the second container. Under a thin layer of old newspaper were at least a dozen bottles. Tossing the papers aside, I began digging through them with as much stealth as I could manage. They clinked softly and my heart thudded a little harder each time.

At last, I caught a glimpse of the tell-tale yellow label. I'd just closed my fingers around the neck of the bottle when voices made me stop. From one of the windows, I heard the woman giving some directions to the maid. I was wrist deep in glass and tried not to move.

A bee, drawn by the heavy fragrance of the bushes, buzzed near my face. I swatted at it with the lid of the bin, but it wouldn't go away, zig-zagging back to my face every time. The lid caught one of the heavy flowering branches, raining pollen and petals down on me.

My nose itched. I held my breath and willed myself not to sneeze. The woman was still in the room. I could just see her over the top of the railing, looking at something on the table in front of her. If she looked up, she would see my pink, feathered cloche sticking out from among her lilac bushes.

Tears leaked out of the corners of my eyes. My lungs burned fiercely. There was nothing I could do.

The mighty sneeze rocked my on my feet. Stumbling, the metal lid crashed against the edge of the bin, sending a shockwave up my left arm. I wrenched my other hand free with a clatter of glass. One of the broken bottles sliced into the back of my hand.

"What was that?" asked a voice from the house.

I dropped the lid and bolted for the back gate. Alexandra grabbed my wrist and we raced off down the alley. We didn't stop until we caught a streetcar two blocks away.

Panting, we clung to the back rail of the car, waiting as the attendant moved from passenger to passenger collecting the fee. Fishing the coins out of my purse, I waited with my injured hand and the bottle hidden against the wall. The attendant in her crisp dark uniform eyed us warily–especially me, and my bedraggled appearance–but took our fare and moved on. My eyes met Alexandra's, and we both burst out into hysterical laughter at our close escape.