Darla moved past her disapproval.
No reason to fight it now.
“They beat us to everything. Toilet paper, batteries, eggs—”
Gloria clucked her tongue. “That’s terrible. People like that oughta be shot.”
Mariska gasped. “Gloria, you cannot shoot anyone.”
The light changed. As they crossed, an ugly leather-headed black vulture flew by so close it made Mariska whoop with surprise. It landed next to a dead raccoon in the road, not far from the crosswalk. More flew overhead, lacking the first’s courage.
“Boy, you have a lot of vultures here.” Gloria made a shield with her hand and stared into the sky to watch them circle.
“Well, we are a retirement community,” said Darla.
The women entered the Silver Lake neighborhood unimpeded, the man sitting in the guard box nodding his head as they walked by. Darla led them toward the house she’d seen during her earlier reconnaissance drive, thrilled to see the garage door opened as it had been when she’d visited before.
“Look at all that toilet paper,” she said stopping to point at a mountain of toilet paper packages stuffed against the wall of the open garage. Mariska stopped beside her to stare as Gloria’s eyes bulged even wider.
“There’s got to be a dozen twenty-four packs in there. Unless she has the Brady Bunch living with her, there’s no excuse.”
“This is why none of us can get any,” said Mariska through gritted teeth. It seemed the sight of all that hoarded toilet paper made her forget how frightened she was of Gloria’s revenge schemes.
“You onboard now?” whispered Darla in her ear.
Mariska nodded. “I think I am. That’s enough toilet paper for every Catholic family in Boston.”
Gloria nodded slowly, letting fertilizer sink in around the man-eating plant growing inside of her. With a flourish, she threw out her arm to point as if she were stabbing someone with her fingernail. “And look at their license plate.”
All gazes dropped to the back of the Cadillac in the driveway. The plate said Michigan – Water Wonderland.
“Snowbirds,” they said in unison.
Gloria’s tiny fists balled. “Oh that makes me so mad.”
Darla grinned, feeling a little better about her plan.
Sorry, Michigan, but you brought this on yourself.
“Well, I say we just help ourselves,” said Mariska.
Darla squinted at her. “Since when are you gung ho to steal from people?”
“It isn’t stealing when they’re hoarding. That’s a war crime.”
Darla had never seen Mariska so mad.
“How many rolls do you have left?”
Mariska’s face pinched into an expression hovering somewhere between anger and fear. “Two.”
Darla nodded.
That explains it.
Before any of them could find the gumption to storm up the driveway and claim the spoils of war, the inner garage door of the home opened and a posh, older woman walked out. Spotting the ladies at the foot of her driveway, she stopped and stared at them, followed their gazes to her mountain of toilet paper. A moment later, she slapped the garage door button and the door began to fall.
“Don’t let her see your face,” said Gloria, spinning on her heel and walking away. Darla and Mariska ducked their heads and started after her. No sooner had they caught up, than Gloria spun again and headed back to the house.
“Where are you going?” asked Mariska, sounding exasperated.
Gloria pointed to the side of the hoarder’s house. “Is that a pool cage?”
The modern, single-level home had what looked like a jail cell on the side attached to an even larger cage in the back, presumably covering a pool so the family could enjoy the outdoors without being eaten alive by mosquitos and no-see-ums.
“Yes,” said Darla. She felt giddy, sure she could hear the gears in Gloria’s vengeful little head grinding.
She had no idea why Gloria had zeroed in on the cage. It was like watching the big finale in a movie when she had no idea what was going on, but could feel this was the moment.
“Stay here a second,” said Gloria.
She turned and bolted to the side of the Cadillac, skittering much faster than a woman of her size and age should be able to move. She opened the passenger side door and Mariska gasped.
“What is she doing?”
Darla shook he head. “I have no idea.”
Gloria flopped inside for a few seconds, stretched out across the seat, her tiny feet kicking in the air. A moment later she pulled out, closed the door and jogged back toward Mariska and Darla with something in her hand.
“Move, Move, move!” she said.
Startled by the urgency, Darla broke into a jog and Mariska hustled beside her, both of them giggling like school girls who’d just stolen a beer from their daddy’s garage fridge.
“What did you take?” asked Mariska.
Gloria held out her hand. “Garage door opener.”
Darla laughed and then suffered what felt like a wave of disappointment. “So you’re going to go back and steal her toilet paper?” She’d been expecting more creativity.
Jeeze. I could have done that.
“Not exactly,” said Gloria. “Do you have a trash bag and a shovel back at the house?”
Mariska looked at Darla and Darla grinned.
Here we go.
Chapter Ten
“I need a favor.”
Jamie waited for an answer, but, after hello, the person on the other side of the line remained silent. She frowned.
“Vince? I know you’re there. I can hear you breathing, you fat bastard.”
“What the...hold on.”
Jamie chuckled. On the line in the background she could hear the sound of music and kids screaming. She imagined Vince near a pool, flipping burgers for the neighbors.
Ugh.
Maybe she should swing by. Maybe dress like a clown and tie balloon animals.
Hey kids! Did you know your parent’s friend used to be a hit man for the Chicago mob? He could blast a hole through your
