Holy Rollers (12 page)

Oh, perhaps they had both started to drink a bit too much, and too early in the day, but it was a harmless diversion. If Malcolm was spending later and later hours in DC at his job as a telecommunications lobbyist, and Tish was increasingly frustrated by her inability to become one of
The Real Housewives of Washington, DC
, and if his secretary was just a bit too good-looking for her tastes, and if her tennis instructor called her at inappropriately late hours, and if they each kept a tiny secret or two from the other every now and then, well…

That was okay. Just…perfect.

They knew these were the types of things that would never come between them, which was precisely why they never talked about them. Because they were perfect, and lived in a perfect house in a perfect subdivision with perfect rules.

Which was pretty much perfect, they thought, as Malcolm opened another bottle of wine. A
perfect
bottle of wine.

$ $ $

They found what they needed in the garage.

“Think you can handle the lawnmower?” Grant asked Farraday.

“Rider?”

“Yeah.”

“I can drive anything.”

“Okay, you take the grass and I’ll take the hedges.” He turned to Chase. “You’re on flower duty, lover boy.”

“I don’t know anything about flowers. All my knowledge comes from the Korean deli, and even then only on Valentine’s Day and your birthday.”

“The deli does it, so how hard can it be? Fake it.”

Farraday backed the lawnmower out of the garage, Grant grabbed the hedge trimmers, and Chase picked up a spade and a pair of shears.

The lawn never stood a chance.

It was early evening when Lisa Cochrane finally guided her rental car into the driveway in front of 455 Old Stone Fence Post Road.

“Good Lord, would you look at this place?” Mary Beth’s mouth was agape as she looked out the windshield. “What the hell?!”

From the backseat, Constance said, “What’s the problem? This place looks perfect.”

“Not the house, the lawn!” Mary Beth gestured at it. “Who takes care of it? The Three Stooges?”

The rental car was non-smoking, which didn’t stop Lisa from flicking the dying stub of her cigarette out the window. It landed in the ragged edging between the driveway and the lawn, which could have been described as freshly mown, although a more accurate term would have been freshly scalped.

“We’re talking about Lambert, Chase, and Farraday. That’s about as close to Moe, Curley, and Larry as
we’re
ever going to get.”

“I always thought of Lambert as more of a Shemp,” said Constance, which made Lisa laugh. Constance hadn’t met them until that morning, but she’d had an instant rapport with Lisa. Mary Beth, on the other hand…well, she still held out hope. It might take time, but she held out hope.

“This isn’t funny, you know,” said Mary Beth, which underscored the differences between the three women. “The lawn looks like crap.”

“Mmm-hmm,” muttered Constance.

Lisa caught her accompanying wink in the rearview mirror but kept her control. Instead of laughing, she turned off the ignition and popped the trunk, and soon they stood—wheeled luggage behind them—on the front porch. Chase opened the door moments after Lisa rang the bell.

“Hi, honeys, you’re home!”

With the greeting, he gave them a welcoming smile, which was answered when Mary Beth forced her hand into his chest and shoved him out of the way.

“You guys better not have taken all the good bedrooms. If you did, I’ll set your crap on fire and throw it out the fuckin’ window.”

Chase knew she wasn’t joking.

“Nice seeing you, too, Mary Beth,” he said as she passed him, walked into the foyer, and kept going.

“Sorry.” Lisa stood behind on the porch with Constance, taking in Mary Beth’s wake with a pained smile. She wiggled her shoulders. “We had a
long
drive.”

“Long,”
Constance agreed, and she and Lisa began giggling again.

“I’ve made the drive a few times over the past couple of days, so I know what you mean. But at least there won’t be any more long-distance hauls in our immediate future.”

Constance shook her head. “Long as Mary Beth’s around, don’t bet that your long hauls are in the past.”

They found Mary Beth in the kitchen, where Farraday was rummaging through a cupboard.

“Better put the car in the garage,” he said, offering his own abrupt greeting. “Don’t leave it outside.”

It took Lisa a moment to realize what he meant. “It’s not stolen.”

“It’s not?”

“No. Grant told me to rent a car. Told me I’d be reimbursed.”

“Oh.” He thought about that. “Uh, if you don’t mind me asking…how much is he reimbursing you?”

Lisa stared him down. “Don’t worry about it, Farraday.” She held the stare as one hand dug through her purse, hunting for her cigarettes. “I’m bankrolling the job, so I think I’m allowed to spend some of the money. Unless you want me to pull out, that is.”

“Oh, no, no!”

She smiled. “I figured as much.”

“So anyway…” Farraday smiled crookedly, his version of pouring on the charm. “If the car is clean, how ’bout if I borrow it for a half hour.”

“Why?”

“I need to go to the supermarket.” He nodded in the general direction of the garage. “And I’d just as soon not…”

“Gotcha, Farraday.”

Mary Beth leaned against a wall, still tense and still holding her suitcase as if she weren’t sure she’d be staying. “He doesn’t mean the supermarket. He means the liquor store.”

Farraday didn’t bothering arguing. “Well,
yeah
, that, too. But first I have to go to the supermarket and pick up things for dinner. I’m making a leg of lamb and homemade mint jelly. Long as I can find all the ingredients, that is.”

Mary Beth looked at Farraday as if he’d just levitated. “Did you just say what I think you said? You can make a leg of lamb? And you make your own mint jelly?”

Farraday looked at
her
as if she’d asked if he could breathe. “Of course! I’m a chef. How come no one believes this?”

“Farraday’s a chef,” Chase said confidently as he stepped between them, even though he only had Farraday’s word to take for that and wasn’t sure it was quite enough.

“Long as I can find good lamb, that is. And marjoram to make the jelly. It ain’t the same without the marjoram.”

Lisa finally found her cigarettes at the bottom of the purse and pulled out the pack. “First, before anyone does anything, I want to smoke…”

“You just had one.” It was another thing Mary Beth wasn’t happy about. She tolerated it at home because Lisa paid the rent; on the road, though, she felt less restricted.

“And now…I’m going to have another.”

Still standing in the doorway, Constance stifled a laugh.

Farraday shrugged as Lisa dangled the cigarette between her index and middle fingers. “Long as it’s not in the kitchen, I don’t care where you smoke. See, part of the charm of homemade mint jelly is the aroma.”

“Thank you, Paul.” Lisa tossed a self-satisfied smile in Mary Beth’s direction, then returned her attention to Farraday. “Since you’re being such a gentleman about my bad habit, I’ll keep it away from your kitchen.
And
your minty aroma. Is there a basement?”

“You better believe it,” said Chase. “A big one. With a pool table…a bar…”

“Nothing says ‘place to smoke’ like a room with a pool table and bar, so lead the way.” They took a few steps toward the basement stairs when she thought to ask, “Hey, where’s Lambert?”

Chase nodded toward the kitchen ceiling. “Upstairs washing up. He sorta had a bad reaction to nature.”

They took a few more steps toward the stairs when Farraday interrupted. “Uh, Lisa?”

“Yeah?”

“Keys?”

Lisa shrugged and tossed the car keys on the kitchen table.

$ $ $

Farraday was gone and Lisa had returned to the kitchen by the time Grant Lambert finally descended from the upper floor, scratching his head distractedly. He barely acknowledged the new arrivals.

“I think I’m allergic to the bushes,” he said to no one in particular. “I’m all itchy. My eyes are watering. And I
almost
sneezed.”

Constance waited until he’d finished scratching his shoulder before asking, “What the hell were you doing in the bushes?
You
don’t know anything about gardening.”

“The neighbor lady said they had to be trimmed, so I trimmed them.”

Mary Beth shook her head. “
You
massacred those hedges? I thought we were just joking about the Three Stooges.” She turned to Lisa and Constance, looking for support, but the looks on their faces told her there was never any joke. “I shoulda known. You can’t even trim a hedge right, but we’re supposed to follow your plans to rob one of the biggest churches in the world. We’re gonna end up in Attica.”

“Not Attica,” said Constance. “That’s New York. In Virginia I think they send you to Wallens Ridge.”

“You’re not helping,” said Lisa, who then turned to Grant. “Why did the neighbor tell you to trim the hedges? Doesn’t the owner have a lawn service?”

“What’s a lawn service?”

“A service. A service that services lawns.” He gave her a blank look. She sighed. “You’ve got to get out of Jackson Heights more often.”

Grant shrugged. “I dunno. They looked okay to me. But she said if we didn’t cut the grass and fix the bushes, the IHOP would be on our asses.”

“The IHOP?”

“The homeowners’ mob.”

Lisa thought about that for a moment then managed to translate. “Ah. You mean the H-O-A.”

“Yeah, that.”

She shook her head. “Sorry about that, Lambert. I didn’t think to ask.”

He scratched his forearm. “Well, hopefully we won’t have to do it again.”

“Once they see the yard,” said Mary Beth, “I think they’ll
insist
you don’t do it again.”

Grant sat at the kitchen table. “It doesn’t look
too
bad.”

“It looks like it’s been attacked by a herd of stampeding bison.
Drunk
stampeding bison. Wielding chainsaws.
Rusty
chainsaws…”

Lisa stopped her. “That’s enough, Mary Beth. Okay, our new neighbors seem to have control issues. Welcome to the suburbs.”

“Whatever. We’re not here to do yard work. We’re here to rob a church.” Grant looked at Lisa, then at Constance. He made a point not to look at Mary Beth. “You see the cross on your way through Nash Bog?”

Lisa nodded. “Can’t miss it.”

“You can even see it from our front window. Farraday eyeballed it and thinks it’s about three-eighths—”

“Three-sevenths.”

“Three-
sevenths
of a mile, although the way these streets weave around, there’s no direct route. Which means Chase and Constance and whoever else has to get inside the church will probably have to drive.”

Lisa’s frown—which had been playing at the corner of her lips since Mary Beth’s brief tirade—deepened with the realization that Grant had played her.

“And by that, you mean they’ll drive my rental, instead of the stolen car I’m
sure
you have stashed in the garage.” Grant shrugged an agreement. “Which is why you wanted me to rent a car instead of riding down with you.”

Grant scratched his nose. “Correct on all counts. You’re a very smart woman, which is why I like you.”

She squinted. “You like me because I have money.”

“That, too.” He turned to Mary Beth. “So, Mary Beth, on the ride down we sorta decided to use you on the job. Long as you’re here already.”

“And who decided that?”

“Me and Chase.” He glanced at his boyfriend, who looked away. “Mostly Chase, if you’re looking for someone to blame. Anyway, you, Chase, and Constance will become members of the church…”

She stopped him. “And how are we gonna explain that? The three of us just show up one day out of the blue?”

“Something like that,” said Grant. “It’s a church. They like it when people show up out of the blue and join. That’s sort of the point of being a church.”

“What’s the cover story?”

“Let’s not worry too much about a cover story,” he said. “We don’t need to overcomplicate things.”

Mary Beth was about to make the point that Grant Lambert
always
overcomplicated things, but stopped at the sound of Chase’s voice.

“Hold on!” Usually calm and soft-spoken, Chase was unexpectedly animated, which startled the other criminals in the kitchen. “What if Mary Beth and I pretend to be husband and wife?”

Mary Beth didn’t give that idea a chance to make an impression in her brain. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

The room fell silent, and every head turned to Grant, who sat in his chair at the table and tried very hard not to meet any of their stares.