Holy Rollers (25 page)

“
And
blowing carcinogens all over the neighborhood.” Tish dropped the pretense of a smile. “You could be killing us all right now.”

Under his breath, Grant said, “Not the worst idea.”

“What if I was to become pregnant? You could be harming my baby!”

“Pregnant?” asked Lisa with a derisive chuckle. “At your age?”

Ms. Jarvis giggled.

Blame the rum
, Grant thought.

Tish spun on her. “You think that’s funny?”

“Sort of.”

They waited for Tish to respond, but instead she simmered for an entire minute before walking to the middle of the driveway, where she raised her hands and waved.

“Excuse me, everyone! Can I have your attention?!”

The neighbors turned to look at her.

“I’m afraid the party’s over. I don’t feel well. The cigarette smoke has given me a migraine.” That she said this while standing in the smoke from Malcolm’s grill was not commented upon.

Grant looked at his watch. The big neighborhood event had lasted less than ninety minutes.

“That was one of the least painless parties she’s ever thrown,” Ms. Jarvis said. Mr. Scribner and Ms. Huffine agreed.

Grant watched Lisa as she ground the cigarette under her heel on Tish’s driveway. “I knew that bad habit of yours would prove useful someday.”

$ $ $

Farraday arrived home a few hours later in a blue pickup. He’d bought some reflective peel-off letters, which he handed to Grant upon arrival.

“Your pupu platter was the highlight of the party,” Lisa told him.

“That, and the way you’re turning Ms. Jarvis into a drunk,” added Grant.

Farraday smiled. “She’s a very special woman.”

$ $ $

The blue pickup with reflective letters spelling out D
AVIS
P
LUMMING
on the cap over its bed came to a stop next to the guard shack in front of the Virginia Cathedral of Love. The driver’s window rolled down and Farraday, a gray cap pulled low over his eyes, leaned out.

“Gotta call to fix the toilet,” he said. “Some place called Cathedral House?”

The security guard gave a bored once-over to Farraday, then to the truck. “Take the road all the way to the end. You can’t miss it.”

“Thanks.” Farraday’s foot was still on the brake as he started to crank up the window.

“Hey, buddy?” The guard’s hand was now outside the booth, motioning the window back down. Farraday didn’t like the looks of that, but complied.

“What?”

“You’re spelled wrong.”

“I’m spelled wrong?”

“You’re spelled wrong.” The guard pointed to the back of the pickup. “‘Plumbing’ has a ‘B’ in it.”

“Not where I come from.” With that, Farraday took his foot off the brake and started on his way to Cathedral House. As he did, he turned to Grant, who sat in the passenger seat, also wearing a gray cap. “Told you there was a ‘B.’”

“I guess I stand corrected.”

Farraday couldn’t help but smile that he’d been right for a change.

“There’s something very strange about this place,” said Grant as the pickup rolled onto the grounds. “It’s too easy. Almost like they’re asking to be robbed.”

“That, or they’re so sure they won’t be robbed that they don’t care about appearances.”

“Maybe.”

“Even in New York we got places like this, right? Tons of cash layin’ around and no real security. They just figure no one’s gonna take it. Usually they’re right. Until they’re wrong.”

Grant eyed the cathedral as the truck passed it and continued another quarter mile down the road toward Cathedral House. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. If joints in New York don’t sweat it, we shouldn’t be surprised that some church in Virginia doesn’t think about it. Doesn’t mean it’s not strange, though. You sure Cousin Leonard knows what he’s talking about?”

Farraday pulled to a stop in front of Cathedral House, which was helpfully marked with a sign reading C
ATHEDRAL
H
OUSE
, although he’d already known exactly where he was going.

“I’ll let him out of the pickup bed and you can ask for yourself.”

Leonard hadn’t wanted to go along on the job, but Grant and Farraday had made it clear that he was going whether he liked it or not. The bumpy ten-minute ride on the hard, bare metal bed of the pickup with a rattling toolbox had convinced Leonard he should have made more of a case for himself, but he was smart enough not to complain when Farraday unlocked the tailgate and he could finally scramble out.

Grant looked over Leonard’s fake mustache and sideburns—as well as his gray cap—to make sure everything was still in place, then sent a text message to Chase to tell him they were outside. A few minutes later, Chase was standing at the top of the front steps.

“You the plumbers?” he asked, playing his role.

“Yeah,” said Grant.

Chase looked at the truck. “You’re spelled wrong.”

Grant muttered something inaudible and hoisted the toolbox. “Let’s go look at your toilet.”

No one spoke while they took the small elevator to the fourth floor, then followed Chase down the hall to the finance office.

Constance was waiting inside. When the office door was closed, she barely moved her lips. “Don’t look, but the camera is mounted on the wall to your left.”

Grant turned his back to the direction of the camera. “You sure there’s no audio, Leonard?”

“There’s no audio.”

“You’d better be right. ’Cause if you’re wrong, we’re already busted.”

“I’m not wrong.”

“Okay, then.” Grant turned around. “Let’s remove the seven million clogs and get out of here.”

Farraday bent over and reached for random pieces of metal in the toolbox, most of which were the kinds of tools you’d use to fix a toilet, and some of which were tools you’d use to crack a safe.

“What the hell, Farraday!” Constance averted her eyes. “This is supposed to be about
safe
-cracking, not
plumber’s
-cracking.”

Farraday stood and pulled his pants up an inch or so before bending over again. “Gotta look the part.” To Grant, he said, “Want the drill?”

“Not unless I need it. First I wanna take care of the camera.” He looked at Chase. “Ready?”

“Ready.”

Grant, in an exaggerated pantomime that would have made Mack Sennett proud, gestured a few times for the benefit of whoever might be watching them while Chase moved the easel from against the wall and propped it in the middle of the office directly in front of the security camera. He then set the foam core panel with the rendering of the Great Cross on the easel, back to the camera.

They stepped back to better appraise their work, acting as if they were actually interested in looking at the drawing. Chase stood at the edge, still partially in camera range to reassure anyone viewing them from the security office that everything was on the up-and-up on the fourth floor.

Grant looked at the picture of the cross. “What’s with the squiggles?”

“What squiggles?” asked Chase

“The ones someone drew on the cross.”

“Those look more like spirals to me.”

“No, those are definitely squiggles.”

“Whatever. They were there when we found it.”

“Some people,” said Grant, “have no respect for other people’s property.” His eyes lined up the foam core panel with the camera. “Move the easel up a little closer.” Chase slid it forward a few feet until Grant was about as satisfied as he was going to get. “That doesn’t give us a lot of room to hide, but I’ll make it work.”

Constance returned to her desk, directly in view of the camera, and pretended as if everything happening in the office was completely normal. In the meantime, Grant had the closet door open and was studying the safe.

“You want the drill now?” asked Farraday.

Grant shook his head. “Drilling is the last option. That’s the option we run with if there’s no other way in, because once we drill they’re gonna know we were in the safe as soon as they look at it. I can’t speak for everyone here, but I’d like a bit more of a head start.”

As it turned out, the drill stayed in the toolbox.

Crouched on the other side of the easel and out of camera view, Grant went to work on the tumblers. It took a few minutes, but the safe opened easily.

At the final click—the satisfying sound of a combination lock beaten—Grant said, “Now let’s see what we’ve got here.”

He pulled the latch.

Even Constance walked out of camera-range and joined them as they gathered around the cracked safe. They watched the heavy door slowly open, and then they looked inside at neat stacks of United States currency.

Their faces dropped.

It was Farraday who spoke first. “Unless those bills are all thousands, no way is that seven million dollars.”

Grant reached in and thumbed through a few bound packets, then did a quick calculation in his head.

“Ninety thou, give or take.” His announcement was met by a chorus of groans.

“That ain’t even my fee,” said Farraday.

“Shut up,” Grant ordered, and they all obeyed. He looked at Leonard. “So where’s the rest? You promised us seven mil. We wouldn’t have gone through all this for a measly ninety thou job.”

Leonard’s eyes darted around the room, suddenly fearful he was being set up, but not sure why or by whom. “I…I…I don’t know. There should definitely be more money in there.”

Grant snarled. “But there isn’t. So where is it? Where’d it go?”

“I don’t have any idea,” he said. “All I know is that Merribaugh has been putting money in that safe for years.”

“Yeah, but does he ever take it out?”

“Sure,” said Leonard. “But not often. And not nearly as much as he’s put in there.”

“What about at night?” asked Constance. “Maybe after you went home he’d come in…”

Leonard thought about that possibility. “I suppose that could have happened, but…that doesn’t make sense. Why would he tell Hurley that they were sitting on seven million dollars if they were only sitting on ninety thousand dollars?”

They looked at each other for several long, tense moments…

Until Chase finally swallowed audibly, at which time they all looked at
him
.

“Merribaugh’s suitcase,” he said.

“Oh, damn!” said Constance. “That has to be it.”

Grant’s eyes traveled from Chase and Constance and back a few times. “You wanna explain for the rest of us?”

So Chase did. “Yesterday, Merribaugh came in with a suitcase, and told us to wait outside…”

“You don’t think this is something we should have known about before now?”

Chase shrugged helplessly, mostly because he knew Grant was right. “It was just a small roller suitcase. One of those ones on wheels. It just seemed so…
small
! Too small to fill it with seven mil.”

“Unbelievable.” Grant’s head was starting to pound. “Here we are committing a burglary and we didn’t have to be here at all.”

“But Chase is telling the truth,” said Constance. “Remember, I was there, too. It was just a tiny suitcase. If he took money from the safe, it couldn’t have been more than, well…” She pointed at the safe. “Had to be less than
that
, at least. A lot less.”

“We figured thirty thousand dollars max,” Chase added.

Grant squeezed his eyes closed and wished the headache away. The fire was out of his voice when he finally spoke.

“So where’s this money now?”

“I can’t say for sure,” said Chase. “But we know where Merribaugh is.”

Constance nodded. “The Project Rectitude conference. In DC.”

“The one Jared’s at?” They nodded.

“So Jared is now our
only
link to seven million dollars?” They nodded again.

Grant sat down on the floor and put his head in his hands. When he finally was able to speak again, it was with a voice drained of all trace of hope.

“I hate Washington, DC.”

$ $ $

At one far end of the basement, tucked away from the busyness of Cathedral House, was the security supply room.

The room had two purposes. It was primarily, and logically, the space where the Virginia Cathedral of Love security team kept its supplies. But a corner had also been turned into a hidden sleeping nook for Captain Joseph Enright, Chief of Security, complete with cot, nightstand, alarm clock, and pornographic magazines hidden inside the covers of old editions of
Newsweek
and
Highlights for Children
.

Most officers under his command knew of Captain Enright’s hideaway, if not the magazines, but he knew they would never talk. Because if they did, they’d be looking for new jobs, and why would they want to do
that
?