Thirty-two
Joan’s smoke bombs were creating some concern in the house because they worked a bit too well.
“What the hell is that smell?” Frances asked, walking into the kitchen. She couldn’t see the sink for the smoke.
“Smoke bombs,” Joan said. “I was a little worried that I couldn’t get the smoke just right. But I’ve been tinkering with the recipe and they work.”
“For what? When?”
“In the vault hallway,” Irene answered, emerging from the smoke with the blueprints of the casino she’d printed. “There are a couple of guards there.” She went into the living room with her blueprints. “Open some windows!” she called to Joan.
They had honed their plan, and it was simple enough. They had learned during one of their first jobs that the more basic the plan, the better chance they had of succeeding. Girl, keep it simple, they would say to each other.
“My guy came through,” Irene announced. “The power outage is set for five minutes to midnight tomorrow night. Within five minutes, the generator lights will be up. Security will be focused on the floor to keep anyone from making off with chips or money in the dark. A smaller security team is dispatched to the vault. I have access to Mark’s system and will turn off the motion detector. ”
“So, Edie and I have five minutes to get into the vault?” Frances asked.
“Yep, before it locks up again.”
“And then ten to fifteen minutes to crack the safe and grab the bags?”
“I hope you have that long,” Irene said.
“Once you’re in, I’ll have the cleaning cart at the entrance to the hall.
We get the bags in that cart, then out to the street and into the van and bury them under stacks of towels.
Stacks and stacks, like a laundry service.
” She looked at Frances. “We need towels.”
Frances nodded. “On it.”
Edie had walked into the room and was studying the blueprint. “That is a lot of ground for four old broads to cover.”
“That’s why I’m getting us extra help,” Joan said.
“Who?” Frances asked.
“Trojan, like we talked about. He could use the extra cash and he fits the police uniform. I mean, his uniform from the show.”
Frances could feel her eyes bulging from their sockets in disbelief. “Are you talking about the uniform that you can rip the pants off with a single pull?”
“And Trixie,” Joan continued, ignoring Frances’s question. “She’s a crane operator during the day but was excited to come in drag.”
“As?”
“As whatever we need. Oh, and Todd and Skinner.”
“What?” Frances cried.
“Skinner is driving. What?” Joan demanded. “They already know we are doing something we shouldn’t.”
“Such a bad idea, Joan!” Edie exclaimed. “This is why we agreed to a no outsiders rule. Especially not this many outsiders.”
“I don’t think we agreed,” Joan said. “I think you two have said it a time or two. But look at us. How many bags do you think you can carry? Think about it—they’ll be outside, and not part of the actual crime.”
“Well,” Irene said, wincing a little. “Not part of the big crime, but definitely part of the crime.”
Frances gaped at Joan. “Are you crazy?”
“I don’t think so. But maybe you are,” Joan said. “This was all your grand idea, Fran. Now you think we should bail?”
That’s not what Frances meant, but she was suddenly uncertain what she did mean. This had seemed so simple in theory. “I didn’t say that. But I don’t think we should make anyone accessories to our crime.”
“Then what do you suggest we do?”
Of course she didn’t have a better idea.
That was always her part in this girl gang—to have lots of ideas, but few thoughts about how to pull them off.
Why had she ever thought they could do this at this age?
It was one thing to imagine the four of them giving a big heist one last shot. But now they had accomplices?
The four of them stood there at an impasse. Probably each wondering why they’d ever agreed to do this.
Joan turned away when Frances offered nothing. “We have so much to do. Could we argue about it later?”
Irene picked up her blueprints and followed her.
Frances shifted her gaze to Edie.
“Don’t look at me,” Edie snapped. “You dragged my granddaughter into this.” She pivoted away before Frances could protest or argue and went into the bedroom.
Frances rubbed her temples. She was on a roller coaster of emotion that was not helped by a ferocious headache and bouts of nausea. She had been so happy about this, so excited to be part of it. Last night, she had seen the four of them as they once were and believed they could do anything.
But now? It seemed so impossible. Frankly, she was scared. Not the adrenaline kind of scared. The sick kind of scared.
She thought about lying down, closing her eyes, maybe sleeping until this was all behind her. But she couldn’t—Skinner was picking her up any moment to go and pick up the van decals. And apparently, some towels.