Holy Rollers (27 page)

“The next time,” he said aloud to himself, as well as to a tourist from Milwaukee who’d been waiting to check in for seventeen minutes, “I hope they go to the Mayflower.”

The tourist from Milwaukee, still waiting, wondered if the Mayflower might have any vacancies.

$ $ $

Dr. Oscar Hurley had a lovely suite on the top floor of the hotel. It came with a large four-poster bed that would have been big enough to accommodate Francine, had he bothered to bring her. It had a terrace with a partial view of the White House. And it had a parlor, which provided the perfect meeting space to discuss things better discussed in private with the congresswoman from Minnesota.

As they talked, he looked her over. In another term or two, she might prove even more useful than she already had as one of his principal House warriors against all things gay. But one day he’d have to make her over, as he’d made over Congressman Donald Skinner. Her helmet hair, drab clothes, and poor eye contact were off-putting to many people.

He’d polish her, though. In time, he’d polish her.

Their discussion came to an end, and Dennis Merribaugh appeared at Hurley’s side. He held an envelope.

“This,” said Hurley, “is for you.”

The congresswoman began to reach for the envelope, but her hand stopped in midair.

“What is it?” she asked.

Hurley smiled. “Let’s just call it contribution to your reelection campaign.”

“If I’m not mistaken, the Moral Families Coalition has already maxed out on contributions to my campaign for this cycle.”

“Which is why this is cash.”

“Oh.” She sat back. “I don’t know…”

“Congresswoman, I am a man of the cloth,” said Hurley. “No harm will come to you. This is not a bribe. Think of it as a tithe.”

She ran a hand along the edge of her helmet-hair and looked at the envelope. “Are you sure it’s okay?”

Hurley’s smile was gentle. “You cannot do the Lord’s work on Capitol Hill if you don’t get reelected, can you?”

Recognizing his logic, the gentle-lady from Minnesota took the envelope.

When she was gone, Hurley said to Merribaugh, “It makes me nervous keeping that suitcase in a hotel room. Especially since we know the FBI and IRS are watching.”

“What do you want me to do with it?” asked Merribaugh.

“Put it in the hotel safe.” He thought for a moment. “And I doubt this will happen, but let’s be prepared. Just in case the federal government decides to set up a showy raid to try to reassure the American public they’re doing their jobs.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“In case of emergency,” said Hurley, “be prepared to swallow the claim ticket.”

Dennis Merribaugh really hoped there was no raid. Especially when, after waiting twenty minutes in a long line at the front desk to check the suitcase, the clerk handed him a hard plastic claim ticket the thickness of a credit card.

“Thank you,” he said to the clerk, who nodded unpleasantly in return.

How rude
, thought Merribaugh.
Next year I should take this conference to the Mayflower.

$ $ $

Chase and Constance inspected the finance office one last time. Everything looked good; just the way it had looked the first time Constance walked through the door.

The safe had been locked, and the closet door had also been locked. The defaced foam core rendition of the Great Cross was back behind the cabinet, and the easel had been returned to the corner.

Everything was perfect.

Right up until the moment the door burst open and a half dozen men rushed in.

With their weapons drawn.

And one of them yelled, “FBI! Don’t move!”

$ $ $

In the security supply room in the basement, Officer Chris Cason shook Captain Joseph Enright awake.

“What?” he grumbled.

“Sir, we have a problem.”

“Go away.”

“No, I mean a
problem
. A
biiiig
problem!”

$ $ $

Sitting in the back of one of several black armored trucks parked outside Cathedral House, Special Agent Oliver Tolan of the Federal Bureau of Investigation looked Constance in the eye and said, “So where’s the money?”

She rolled her eyes. “I told you before, I’m gonna tell you again. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

He held his stare without blinking. “So you’re saying you know nothing about the contents of the safe?”

“I didn’t even know there
was
a safe,” she said. “I just started a few days ago. I came down from New York after seeing Dr. Hurley on television, and they asked me to help out in the office.”

He made it clear he didn’t believe her. “You mean they just gave a newcomer a set of keys and turned her loose? Is that what you’re saying?”

Well, yes, that
was
what she was saying. She wondered how many times she’d have to repeat the story before it sank in, but—in this case—a knock on the door gave her a break.

“Come in,” said Tolan, and one of the other agents poked his head inside.

“I got a name on the other one,” he said. “Charles LaMarca. Lives in Jackson Heights, Queens.” The other agent looked at Constance. “Does that name ring a bell, Ms. Brown?”

She didn’t answer.

Tolan asked, “Did this LaMarca tell you why he’s going by the name Hudson?”

“Said he was trying to start a new life in Virginia, and a new name was part of that.”

“Where’d he get Hudson from?”

“Kate.”

“Oh.” Tolan thought about that, and realized there wasn’t much to think about. “You believe him?”

The other agent held a neutral expression. “He’s probably on the level. Look, all these folks are guilty of is being in an office where no cash was found.”

“Maybe.” Tolan turned his attention back to Constance. “So is Constance Brown your
real
name?”

“No,” she confessed, seeing a great deal of hope in the casual way they regarded Chase, and thinking maybe this situation would turn out all right after all. “It’s Price. Constance Price.”

“So why were you using a fake name?”

“Same reason as Mr. LaMarca,” she said. “Same reason a lot of people who attend Cathedral of Love use fake names. Dr. Hurley tells us it’s a way to give rebirth to our souls.”

Tolan had never heard that one before. “Really?”

“Really.” And she thought,
Damn, I’m good.

Tolan asked for her real name, real address, and real social security number. Then he said, “Agent Waverly will run this information to confirm your identity.”

“Right,” said Waverly, who was the other agent. “And if your criminal record comes back as clean as LaMarca’s, you’ll both be free to go.”

Wait a minute? Criminal record?

And it was too late to again insist her last name was Brown. Damn.

$ $ $

The first thing Chase did when he was released—and out of sight of any FBI agents—was dial Grant’s cell and give him the news.

“So where did they take her?” asked Grant. Acid was churning in his stomach.

Chase covered his free ear to block out noise from the passing traffic. “No clue. All I know is once they found out she had a criminal record, they decided to hold her for further questioning.”

“Keep me posted.” Grant disconnected and filled in Farraday and Mary Beth.

Farraday, sitting behind the wheel as they inched through a construction-related traffic jam, asked, “Do you think she might have scammed us? I mean, she was alone in that office all week, then we busted in and there was no money. It’s a little fishy…”

“Constance is good people,” said Grant. “I’ve pulled a lot of jobs with her over the years, and she’s never been less than honest. For a thief, at least.”

Mary Beth asked, “Should we get her a lawyer?”

Grant shook his head. “This is not something Constance is unfamiliar with. Let’s ride that out for a while and trust her to keep her own counsel. It’s not like the feds are gonna lock her up with no evidence.”

His stomach said otherwise.

$ $ $

Minutes after ending his brief conversation with Captain Enright, Merribaugh rapped lightly on Dr. Oscar Hurley’s hotel room door. When the knock was answered, Merribaugh got straight to the point.

“Enright just called. The FBI raided Cathedral House about an hour ago.”

Color drained from Hurley’s face and he gestured for Merribaugh to come into the room. It was only when Hurley had a moment to think things over—realizing that if the FBI had found what they were looking for, he’d likely have been arrested before they knew about the raid—that he managed to find his voice again.

“Why did it take Enright an hour to call?”

“They were questioning him.” Merribaugh shook his head. “At least they let Enright go. Charlie Hudson, too.”

“Who?”

“Charlie Hudson. He’s a new member of the congregation who’s been helping out in the office.” Hurley’s face betrayed no hint of recognition, so he continued. “But the FBI is still holding Constance.”

“Constance?” Hurley shook his head sadly. “This is why we plan ahead, Dennis. Has she been arrested?”

“Not yet. The problem is…Constance apparently has a criminal record.”

Hurley took a step back. He’d thought himself a better judge of character than that. “For?”

“Enright is looking into that. But one thing we
do
know is the woman we’ve been calling Constance Brown is really Constance Price. At least that’s what she told the FBI.”

“Interesting.”

“One other thing you should know…” Merribaugh swallowed hard. “The FBI broke into the safe.” He swallowed harder. “It was empty.”

For the first time since Merribaugh had entered the room, Hurley’s face expressed genuine surprise, instead of puzzled confusion. “So Constance
is
a thief! She
was
casing Cathedral House!”

Merribaugh didn’t want to admit that, because he knew Hurley would again blame him for a bad hiring decision. But facts were facts. She’d been with the plumbers, hadn’t she? Not that that was something Hurley had to know. “It looks like that was the case.”

“How much did she get?” he asked.

“I’m not sure. Maybe one hundred thousand dollars.”

Hurley frowned. “I suppose it’s a drop in the bucket, all things considered. Still, Dennis, I do
not
like to have that kind of money just sitting around. You’ve got to move it out of the office faster than you do. I mean, can you imagine if the FBI had found more than one hundred thousand dollars in the safe? Let alone seven million. How would we explain that?”

Merribaugh had an answer for that. He’d had an answer for that for most of the time they’d worked together.

“In the case of a hundred thousand dollars, I’d tell the FBI the money was offerings we had not yet had the time to deposit in the bank. That part is easy.”

“And how would we explain
seven million dollars
, Dennis?”

Merribaugh felt a cool sweat break out on his brow. Hurley very seldom mentioned that amount. The fact that he had mentioned it twice underscored his concern.

“They’ll never find it,” he said, hoping he sounded convincingly reassuring.

“I suppose…But from this point forward, I don’t want cash in the safe for more than one day. It’s not as if you have to go far to take care of it.”

“Fair enough,” said Merribaugh. “It won’t happen again.”

Hurley sat on the edge of his bed. “Well, this has been an interesting morning. Very interesting, indeed. But if the FBI had to pay us a call, I suppose they picked the right day to do it. And they managed to catch the woman who stole from us in the process.”

“That’s one way to look at it,” Merribaugh agreed.

“I realize she did us an inadvertent favor, but I want you to find out how Sister Constance got into that safe and got our money. Then I want you to get it back. Understood?”

“Understood.”

“Good. And now we should pray for Sister Constance.”

And then Hurley laughed. It was the laugh of a man who was willing to lose one hundred thousand dollars in order to cover his own ass.

Jared sat on the bed and idly clicked a button on the remote, flipping through television channels. Golf…gardening…history…golf again…home makeovers…politics…golf yet again…religion…politics…more golf…

Who knew things would become so boring? They had started out so promising.

When he arrived the previous night, he’d checked in, unpacked, and immediately hit the hotel gym. He had no intention of working out, but he was sure there’d be another conference participant or two attempting to sweat the gay out, or if not, some random man who’d be ripe for seduction. So sure, in fact, he didn’t bother wearing underwear.