“And would you look at the time.” Chloe pushed her chair back. “Olivia will be getting home from visiting with her grandparents soon. I should really be there to meet her.”
“Stay.” I grabbed her arm. “Please.”
“You definitely don’t want to waste any time,” Rose said. “Assembling your crew is only the first step in a successful heist.”
“I know someone who might be interested in driving.” I pulled up Emma’s contact details on my phone. “She drove her Uber to the museum like we were in the Formula 500, and she’s struggling with money, too. I’ll text her.”
“No texts!” Rose held out a warning hand. “You can be traced through electronic records. All communication must be done in person, or you can leave handwritten messages under stones.”
“Handwriting?” Chloe chuckled. “They don’t teach cursive in schools anymore. This is going to be a modern-day heist. I can set up a secure server, and we can use burner phones to communicate. Leave the tech stuff to me.”
“Perfect,” Rose said. “Another crew box ticked.”
Chef Pierre refilled our wineglasses. I didn’t know much about wine, but I did know that only alcohol would burn from my brain the disturbing images of a naked Rose dropping from the ceiling with a diamond in her teeth.
“You’ll also need someone to handle gadgety things,” Rose continued. “An engineer or a mechanic who is good with their hands and can handle drills, wiring, and power tools. It helps if he’s inventive and can come up with ideas to solve mechanical problems.”
“Like James Bond’s Q?” I asked.
“Exactly.” She held up her wineglass and gave Chef Pierre a dramatic wave. “Magnifique.”
He put his hand to his heart and gave a mock bow. I closed my eyes in case he decided to lick his palm.
“You have lots of engineers in your family,” Chloe said to me. “Do you think any of them would be interested?”
“We can’t involve my family unless you want every South Asian person in Illinois to know what we’re doing. They can’t keep secrets. Gossiping is as natural to them as breathing. My entire family knew I’d met with Riswan less than fifteen minutes after it happened. I can’t even imagine how fast the gossip spread when I asked Garcia to arrest me.”
“We’ve all been the subject of criminal charges,” Rose assured me. “I have quite the rap sheet. Mostly for mischief and public indecency. I was a little bit wild in my teens and twenties. I had a kink for exhibitionism in my thirties, and in my forties, I just couldn’t keep my clothes on because the perimenopausal heat flashes were driving me crazy. In my fifties, it was drugs—menopause will do that to you. You’re too young to hear about my swinging sixties. And last year I was picked up for solicitation—but that one wasn’t my fault.”
Something niggled at the back of my mind. It hummed and buzzed. Like a little toy drone.
“I do know someone.” I swallowed back a grimace. “He’s a mechanical engineer, and good with his hands according to his mom. He builds toy planes and drones and he works at a 3D printing company that makes fake jewelry.”
“Oh, that’s good.” Rose leaned up to kiss Chef Pierre, who had joined us at the table to serve the strawberry galette. “Did you see Ocean’s 8? You might want to consider asking him to make a replica of the necklace you plan to steal.”
“Jack called it a retrieval,” I said. “The necklace will be returned to its rightful owner.”
“Of course it will, dear.” She gave me a warm smile. “Now how about muscle?”
A blush crept up Chloe’s face and she stabbed at her galette. “We have that covered.”
“Jack has a friend,” I explained. “He looks like he was in the military, probably some kind of black ops. Jack said he keeps people safe.”
“That reminds me.” She tapped her lip with a manicured nail. “You’ll need a key master. Someone who can pick locks, crack safes, open doors . . . that kind of thing.”
“Jack said he can do that. He also suggested we find a meeting place. I was wondering if we could use your garage. I’d be happy to give you a share of the reward.”
Rose had lost her driver’s license five years ago after driving the wrong way down a one-way street and knocking over a fire hydrant. She’d sold her old Volvo and now her garage was empty save for a mini kitchen, a few lawn chairs, odds and ends, and rack after rack of clothes.
“You’re welcome to the garage.” Rose waved a dismissive hand. “I don’t need the money. I have more than enough to get by. At my age it’s all about experiences.”
We finished our dessert and helped Chef Pierre tidy the kitchen. Rose kissed my cheek at the door.
“I’m looking forward to meeting your man,” she whispered in my ear. “I was beginning to worry about you. Use it or lose it. You know what I’m saying?”
“I don’t have a man.”
“What about your gentleman thief?”
“He’s a thief. I can’t trust him.”
“The bad boys are always the best in bed.” Rose sighed. “Stan used to be an enforcer for the mob. He tells me about his hits when we’re together. It really gets me going, especially when he’s describing arterial spray. If you hadn’t walked in the other morning—”
“See you on Sunday.” I pushed Chloe out the door. “Hopefully, by then we’ll have a crew.”
Nine
I guess I was expecting something out of a movie the first time I got everyone together: a serious heist crew gathered around a table, sharing their skills and considering the merits of various plans in a thoughtful and professional way.
What I got was chaos.
Chef Pierre had set up a buffet of French pastries on a rough-hewn table between the lawn mower and the tool bench in Rose’s garage. He and Rose were engaged in some kind of cream puff foreplay that involved Rose licking cream off his finger and Chef Pierre retrieving the cream with his tongue. My Uber driver, Emma, had jumped at the chance to join the heist and was now throwing balls of yarn at Anil’s drone and shouting something about a childhood trauma that involved bees while Anil munched his way through a bag of apples. Chloe was trying to set up a whiteboard that only had one leg and Gage looked like he wanted to be anywhere else.
“So this is your crew.” Jack folded his arms across his chest, one eyebrow lifted in what could have been either censure or dismay.
I folded my arms, too. “You say that like you could do better.”
“I couldn’t do worse.”
Emma spotted us at the door, stuck two fingers in her mouth, and whistled so loudly, my eardrums vibrated. I made quick work of the introductions. First names only and a brief description of each person’s role in the crew: driver, hacker, key master, muscle, gadget guy, grease woman, and me.
“Simi’s our leader,” Jack said when I hesitated over my role. “She’s in charge of this operation.”
“I’m not a leading type,” I murmured, keeping my voice low. “I’m a following type. I go with the flow. I’m the fly girl, wisecracking sidekick, or backup singer in a band. You said you needed a crew; I got a crew. But this has to be your show.”