A small crowd was buzzing in the corridor leading to Stratton’s living room. Ellie went over to see what all the commotion was about.
Her jaw dropped.
She was staring at Matisse’s Still Life with Violin, one of the most famous examples from his cubist stage. Ellie had seen it once at the MoMA in New York. She’d heard it had changed hands recently in a private sale. But seeing it there on Stratton’s wall, suddenly she felt angry. That’s why he had invited her. The SOB was trying to rub it in her face.
“So, I see you found the Matisse, Agent Shurtleff.” A haughty voice startled her from behind.
Ellie turned. Stratton was wearing a collarless white shirt and a cashmere blazer, a smug, self-satisfied expression on his face. “Not a bad example, on such short notice. Perhaps not as explosive as the Picasso, but what can one do. . . . A collector has to fill his walls. Even if I had to overpay.”
“It’s lovely,” Ellie said, unable to hide her appreciation of the painting itself.
“There’s much more. . . .” Stratton took her by the arm and led her to a group of admirers staring at a well-known Rauschenberg on another wall. That one must’ve gone for ten million alone. And on the steps leading into the great room, on two wooden easels, were stunning El Greco drawings: studies, she recognized, from his famous The Opening of the Fifth Seal of the Apocalypse.
Masterpieces.
“Whoever’s advising you on your art is doing a better job,” Ellie said, looking around.
“So glad you approve.” Stratton smiled, clearly enjoying himself. “And all dressed up, I see. Come, have some champagne. There must be a nephew of someone rich and famous floating around here who would find what you do for a living completely refreshing.”
“Thanks,” Ellie sniffed up at him, “but not tonight. I’m working.”
“Working?” Stratton seemed amused. “Well, that will set you apart in this crowd. Let me guess, you think that Ned Kelly character is in the house?”
“Kelly . . . no.” Ellie looked at him. “But I was wondering if the name Earl Anson means anything to you?”
“Anson?” Stratton shrugged and took a deep, thoughtful breath. “Should it?”
“He was the man killed along with Kelly’s brother up in Boston. Turns out he was a hood from around here. I thought it might ring a bell.”
“Why would it?” Stratton said, nodding across the room to a familiar face.
“Because he was up in Boston looking for your three paintings.”
Stratton waved across the room to his wife, greeting guests in an off-the-shoulder gown that looked like Prada. Liz Stratton smiled when she saw Ellie.
“You keep forgetting,” Stratton said, barely shifting his gaze, “it’s four. There were four paintings stolen. You always seem to overlook the Gaume.”
“An innocent man was killed up there, Mr. Stratton. A law student,” Ellie came back at him.
“One less lawyer,” Stratton said, and laughed at his own tasteless joke. “Now, I’m afraid I have other guests.”
“And what about Tess McAuliffe?” Ellie said, grabbing Stratton at the elbow. “Am I confused about her, too?”
Stratton’s face grew taut.
“I know you were seeing her.” Ellie stared at him. “I can tie you to the Brazilian Court. You were having an affair with Tess.”
Stratton’s gaze suddenly hardened. “I think we should have that champagne now, Ellie.” He latched onto her arm. “Out on the veranda.”
Chapter 54
MAYBE SHE SHOULDN’T have said what she did. She knew she had gone too far. But she wanted to throw it in his face and watch the haughty smile disappear.
Stratton dragged her through large French doors leading onto the vast terrace off the ocean. They were outside before she could resist. He’d dug his fingers into her arm.
“Get your hands off me, Mr. Stratton.” Ellie tried to pull away without making a scene—like taking him down in the middle of this crowd.
“I thought you might like to see the Fratesi marbles out here,” Stratton said as they passed a couple wandering on the terrace. “I shipped them from a villa outside Rome. Seventeenth century.”
“I’m a federal agent, Mr. Stratton,” Ellie warned him. “Twenty-first century.”
“A federal fucking bitch is what you are,” Stratton said, muscling her over to a remote section overlooking the sea.
Ellie looked around for someone she could yell to if things got really bad. A band was starting to play inside. If this got back to Moretti, she’d be toast.
“It seems our talk the other day didn’t impress.” Stratton yanked her across the tiles to a fieldstone ledge.
“You’re a pretty little girl, Ellie. You know how pretty little girls have to be careful in today’s world. Even when they’re with the FBI.”
“You don’t want to take this any further,” Ellie said, trying to pull away. “You’re threatening a federal agent. . . .”
“Threats? I didn’t make any threats, Agent Shurtleff. All the threats came from you. Tess was private. I liked to fuck the little bitch, that’s all. I don’t know how she died. I don’t much care. But as an observation, when pretty little girls do things, like, say, jog on the beach, or better yet, sea-kayaking . . . Look, Ellie . . . You never can tell how rough it gets out there in the surf.”
“I’m going to tie you to Earl Anson.” Ellie glared back at him.
Her cardigan fell off. Stratton had her by the arm, a grin on his face she didn’t like, staring at her shape and her bare shoulders. “You must look cute in a wetsuit, Ellie. Maybe I’d like to see some more of you myself.”
Chapter 55
WHAT WAS THIS?
I was out on the jetty, overlooking Stratton’s house, when I saw it all unfold. I’m not sure why I was even there. Maybe because that was where it all began; where Mickey and Bobby and Barney had been set up—and I was out of answers. Or because it burned me that Stratton could be in there celebrating about something while my life was falling apart.
Or maybe because it seemed that I’d been watching parties like this from the outside my whole life.
Whatever it was, I watched this guy in a navy blazer dragging a girl onto the terrace, maybe fifty yards away. He forced himself against her on the stone ledge. Shit, Ned, you’ve hit the bottom now, I groaned. I figured I was in for some peep show of the idle rich doing it under the stars.
Suddenly I realized the girl was Ellie.
I went closer. It was Ellie! And the guy in the blazer, Dennis Stratton. I’d seen his picture in the papers. But I was wrong. There was nothing amorous going on. He had her by the arm and they were arguing. Ellie tried to pull away.
I inched closer, crouching near a rock wall. Their words started to come clear. Something about Tess . . . something about this being a private matter. Was I hearing this right? What did Tess have to do with Stratton?
Then Ellie said, “I’m going to nail you for fraud—and murder!”
That was all I needed to hear, but the bastard started threatening her. Ellie was trying to twist away. “You’re hurting me.”
I hoisted myself up the concrete seawall and onto the ledge of the terrace.
Then I jumped down off the ledge onto the terrace a few feet behind the two of them. It all happened quickly after that. I jerked Stratton away and nailed him with a solid right. He went down hard on the terrace.
“You want to put your hands on somebody,” I said over him, “c’mon, how ’bout me?”
Stratton looked up as if he were dreaming. He rubbed his jaw. “Who the hell are you?”
I turned to Ellie and did a double take. She was beautiful. In a cute black dress, shoulders exposed. All made up. And diamond studs sparkling in her ears, nice ones. She was staring at me with her mouth open.
I was hoping I hadn’t shocked her so much that she’d say my name.
She didn’t. Instead, Ellie took hold of my arm. “I was wondering where you were. Let’s get out
of here.” She looked at Stratton, who was slowly getting to his feet. “Love your party, Dennis. I’ll be seeing you soon. Count on it.”
Chapter 56
“THAT WAS BAD, NED,” Ellie said, hustling around the side of Stratton’s house. “You could’ve been caught.”
“I thought that was the plan,” I said, guiding her past a couple of parking attendants at the front gate. “I get caught.”
She made a right turn onto the beach. I was half expecting her to stop, pull out her gun, and arrest me right there. Then it hit me, what I had heard up on the terrace.
“You think it’s Stratton?” I looked at her, a little dazed.
Ellie didn’t answer.
I stopped walking. “You said you were going to bust him for murder and fraud. You think it’s Stratton?”
“You got a car, Ned?” Ellie said, ignoring me.
I nodded vacantly. “In a manner of speaking . . .”
“Then go get it. Now. I don’t want to know you here. Meet me back in Delray.”
I blinked. She wasn’t arresting me.
She glared impatiently. “I don’t think you need directions, do you, Ned?”
I shook my head, and as I started down the street, a grin spread across my face. “You believe me, don’t you?” I called.
Ellie stopped at a navy sedan. “You believe me,” I called again.
She opened her car door. “That was stupid, Ned. What you did.” She softened. “But thanks . . .”
The whole drive to Delray, I wasn’t sure what Ellie really meant back there. The new, paranoid me was sure I was going to come face-to-face with a roadblock of cops and flashing lights. All she had to do was turn me in and Ellie could make a career for herself.
But there were no roadblocks. No cops jumping out at me when I pulled around the corner from her house near the beach in Delray.
By the time I knocked on the front door, Ellie had changed. Her makeup was off, the diamond earrings gone. She had on a pair of jeans, white tee, a pink waist-length sweatshirt. You know what, though, she still looked beautiful.
“Let’s get one thing straight, ” she said as I stood in the doorway. “You’re going to jail. You were involved, Ned, whether you killed those people or not. I’m going to help you with the guy who killed your friends, and then you turn yourself in. You understand? You got it?”
“I understand,” I said. “But there’s something I have to know. You and Stratton on the terrace . . . You were talking about Tess.”
“I’m sorry you had to hear that, Ned.” She sat on a stool at the kitchen counter. She shrugged. “She and Stratton. They were seeing each other. They were lovers.”
Those words slammed into me.
Tess . . . and Dennis Stratton. A hollow feeling rose in my chest. I guess I’d kidded myself a bit. Why someone like Tess would want someone like me. But Stratton? I sank onto the couch. “For how long?”
Ellie swallowed. “I think until the day she was killed. I think he was with her after you.”
The sinking feeling was starting to simmer now—into anger. “The police know this? They know, Ellie, and they’re after me?”
“Seems nobody wants to take on Stratton. With the possible exception of, say, me.”
All of a sudden things started to become clear. What I’d heard up on Stratton’s terrace. Why Ellie hadn’t turned me in. Why I was there. “You think he did it, don’t you? You think he set up my friends? That’s he’s Gachet?”
Ellie came over and sat on the coffee table in front of me. “What I’m starting to think, Ned, is if your friends didn’t steal Stratton’s art, who did?”
A smile crossed my lips. I felt this weight draining out of my shoulders. For a moment I wanted to take Ellie by the hand, or hug her. But the joy quickly faded. “But why Tess?”
“I don’t know yet.” Ellie shook her head. “Did she ever say anything to you? Maybe she knew about you and your friends beforehand. How did the two of you meet?”
“On the beach. Near where I worked . . .” I thought back. I was the one who had gone up to her. Could it be possible that she was in on it? That I’d been set up? No, that was crazy. It was all crazy. “Why would Stratton want to steal his own art?”
“The insurance maybe. But it’s not like he needs the money. Maybe to cover up something else?”
“But if that’s the case, where was the art when Mickey and the guys went to take it?”
A light blinked in Ellie’s eyes. “Maybe someone beat them to it.”
“Someone else? Who? Tess?” I shook my head defiantly. “No way.” But one thing I couldn’t put away, and it didn’t make any sense to me. “If Stratton set up his own heist, if he has the paintings—why did he need to send a guy to kill Dave? Why is he still coming after me?”
We looked at each other. I guess we came to the answer at the same time.
Stratton didn’t have the art. Someone had double-crossed him.
Chapter 57
I HAD A SUDDEN sinking feeling. This was going to be bad. “Listen, Ellie,” I said, “I haven’t been entirely truthful with you.”
Here eyes narrowed. “Oh no. What is it?”
I swallowed, uneasily. “I think I might know someone who was involved.”
“Okay,” she said, “and you were going to share this with me when, Ned? Another old friend?”
“No.” I shook my head. “Actually . . . my father.”
Ellie blinked a couple of times. I could see her trying to remain calm. “Your father! I know he has a record, Ned. But just how in the hell is he involved with seven murders?”
I cleared my throat. “I think it’s possible he knows who Gachet is.”
“Oh,” Ellie grunted, staring incredulously at me, “I thought it was something important, Ned. Is it possible you could maybe have told me this, say, before I threw my career away by bringing you here?”
I told her how Mickey never made a move without him, my conversation with him at Fenway Park.
“Your father knew you were going to visit Dave?” Ellie asked, wide-eyed.
“No,” I said. The thought was too gruesome. Even for Frank.
“You know, from what you’re telling me,” Ellie said, “we’re going to have to bring him in.”
“It won’t do any good,” I said. “First, the guy’s a pro, Ellie. He’s spent a quarter of his life in prison. Second, there’s nothing to play against him. He’s sick, Ellie. Dying of some kidney disorder. He’s not going to roll over. He was willing to let his own son take the fall.
“Anyway, he’d never have killed them. Mickey was like a son to him. Now he’s lost two because of his messes.” The image of Dave’s body came back to me. “Not to mention me.”
Ellie kept surprising me. She reached out and took hold of my hand. “I’m sorry, Ned, I truly am, about your brother.”
I wrapped my fingers around hers. I looked into her face and braved a smile. “You know I don’t have those paintings, don’t you, Ellie? You know I didn’t kill any of those people. Mickey, Tess, Dave . . .”
“Yes,” Ellie said, nodding, “on all counts.”
Something changed for me as I looked into those soft blue eyes. Maybe it was the way I had seen her at Stratton’s party. Adorable but so brave, standing up to him. Or what she was doing for me now. The risk she was taking. It felt so good, after so long, to have someone on my side.
“Ellie?” I said.
“Yes,” she murmured. “What now?”
“Don’t arrest me for this. . . .”
I placed a hand on her cheek and kissed her gently on the lips.
Chapter 58
I KNEW THAT wasn’t the smartest thing to do. I half expected her to jump up and shove me away: Have you lost your mind?
But she didn’t. Ellie just sort of lifted her chin and parted her mouth, and her tongue danced around mine a little, soft and warm. The whole thing took both of us by surprise. Suddenly I had my arms around her and I was pulling her against me, un
til I could feel her heart beating against my chest. You know, sometimes it takes just one kiss to find out if the sparks are really there. They were.
I held my breath as we let go. I was scared of what she was going to say. I brushed a wisp of hair out of her eyes.
Her eyes were sort of blinking—as though maybe she wasn’t sure about what had just happened, either.
“It’s not right, Ned.”
“I know. I’m sorry, Ellie. It was just that it was so good to finally hear that you believe me. And you were looking so cute up on that terrace. I guess I was overwhelmed.”
“Not that.” She looked at me and curled a little smile. “That part was great. I was just thinking about Stratton. He’s got these amazing new acquisitions. If he did this theft for the insurance, why press finding the stolen art? He’s got what he wanted.”
“Maybe he wants them back,” I said. “You know, have his cake and eat it, too.”
“Listen,” she said, focusing herself, “don’t get attached to this, Ned. This was basically a handshake. To reflect our new working agreement.”
I tried to pull her close again. “I was hoping we might take it straight to contract form?”
“Sorry,” she sighed. “Call me old-fashioned, but you’re a wanted man and I’m the FBI. Besides, there’s work to do.” She reached out and pulled me up. I was surprised at how strong she was. “You gotta go. You won’t be offended, will you, if I ask you to leave by the back door?”
“No,” I laughed, “it’s become part of my regular routine.”
I went to the porch door and slid it open. I looked back at Ellie. I didn’t know if it was a mistake, what we’d done. Or if it would happen again. I understood the risk she was taking with me. Our eyes met.
I smiled from the door. “Why are you doing this, Ellie?”
“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “Let’s just say I’m boxing, Ned.”
“Boxing?”
“I can’t explain right now. You gonna be okay?”
I nodded. “Well, whatever it is, thank you, Ellie.”
“I told you, it was just a handshake,” she said with a wink.
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