Chapter 93
ELLIE CLEARED HER THROAT. She was nervous. No, nervous didn’t even begin to describe how she felt. She told them again about Ned’s coming back from his brother’s funeral and what his father had said. What Liz Stratton had told them, too. How she and Ned had set up Moretti after she traced the gun.
Crazy as it was, she felt they believed her. Sort of, anyway.
“And just how long have you and this Kelly character been… cooperating on this case?” ADIC Cole asked.
“Since he turned himself in,” Ellie answered, swallowing. She dropped her head. “Maybe a little before.”
“Maybe a little before.” Cole tightened his jaw and glanced around the table as if for some kind of explanation.
Ellie cleared her throat. “I can bring him down,” she said apprehensively. “Stratton.”
“You’re on such incredibly thin ice already, Special Agent Shurtleff, your knees must be freezing cold.” Cole glared at her.
“I can bring him down, sir,” she said, more firmly.
Cole narrowed his gaze at her. She checked Harpering and Ficke to see if they were smirking. They weren’t.
“All right,” the ADIC sighed, “how?”
“He thinks we have something he wants,” Ellie said.
“This painting,” Cole said, nodding. “The…Gaume? What is it about this thing?”
“I don’t know yet,” Ellie said, “but Stratton doesn’t know we don’t know, either.”
Cole looked at Harpering and Ficke. There was stiff, evaluating silence around the table.
“You’re trained as an art investigator, aren’t you, Special Agent Shurtleff?” Cole inquired.
“Yes, sir.” Ellie nodded. He knew she was.
“So, you would think” – Cole placed his palms together – “knowing that, I’d have to be pretty much suicidal to let you run something like this after what you’ve done. We screw this up, you could basically sweep whatever’s left of my career into the trash.”
“Mine, too, sir.” Ellie looked him in the eye.
“Right,” the ADIC said. He cast a glance to Ficke and Harpering.
“The way things are right now,” the lawyer said, “Stratton walks away and we’re left with the biggest cleanup mess since the Exxon Valdez.”
Cole rubbed his temples hard. “Just for the sake of conversation, Special Agent Shurtleff, what exactly would you need to do this job?”
“I’d need it leaked that Moretti didn’t talk. That he didn’t say a word about Stratton. And that I’ve been taken off the case. That I’m under investigation.”
“That won’t be hard,” Cole said.
“And something else,” Ellie went on, since she was on such a hot streak. “What’s that?” The ADIC rolled his eyes impatiently. “This could get a little unorthodox, sir…”
“Oh, and it’s been going along so ‘by the book’ up to this point.” Cole couldn’t help but smile. Ellie sucked in a breath. “I’ll need Ned Kelly, sir.”
Chapter 94
I WAS PLAYING GIN at the house with Sollie.
We were outside, in the covered cabana by the pool. I’d been confined to Sollie’s until my role in what happened at Ellie’s house was fully resolved.
A little matter of having violated my bail agreement – possession of a firearm.
I knew Ellie was in trouble. I knew what we did could cost her her job. Everything was out now: my dad’s involvement, what Ellie had found out about Moretti, our conversations with Liz. Me.
With Liz and Moretti dead, we didn’t have much to hang on Stratton. He had orchestrated everything perfectly. That made me the angriest of all. That, and my father. Frank thought he was squaring things with the Man, but the irony was that by pulling the trigger, he had let Stratton go free.
“You keep throwing me hearts, I keep taking them,” Sol said with an apologetic sigh.
“I guess I’m not much competition today,” I said, drawing a card.
“Competition? This is rehabilitation, Ned. I promised the judge. Besides, at this rate I’ll have made back your bail by tomorrow afternoon. Then you can get the hell out.”
I smiled at the old guy. “I’m worried about Ellie, Sol.”
“I can see that, kid, but you know, I think it’ll be all right. The girl can handle herself fine.”
“She tried to help me, and I got her in trouble. I want to get Stratton, Sollie. I was sure we had him nailed.”
“I know you do, kid.” Sol laid down his hand. “And my guess is, you’ll still get your chance. Let me tell you something about guys like Dennis Stratton. You know what their weakness is? They always think they’re the biggest fish in the pond. And trust me, Ned, there’s always one a little bigger.” He was looking straight at me. “But first, there’s something more important you got to do, Ned.”
“What’s that?” I grinned. “Deal?”
“No, I’m talking about your father, kid…”
“My illustrious father is the reason we’re in this mess,” I said, picking my hand back up. “Without him, we’d have someone to testify against Stratton. Don’t think for a second he was acting nobly.”
“I think he was doing things the only way he knew how. The guy’s sick, Ned. Jesus, kid, fours…”
“Huh?”
“You passed on my four of spades. You’re not thinking, Ned.”
I looked at my hand and saw the jumbled mess I was playing and realized my mind was a million miles away.
“Take care of your own business, son,” Sol said, still talking about my dad. “This Stratton thing, it’ll work itself out. But while we’re on it,” he said, fanning out his cards and catching my eye. “I might be able to help you a bit.”
“What are you talking about, Sol?”
“Discard, kid… It’s all about the fish. We’ll talk later.”
I tossed out a ten of diamonds.
“Rhythm!” Sollie eyes lit up, laying down his cards. “This is too easy, kid.” He pulled in the score sheet. His third straight gin. “If this is the way it’s gonna be, I’m gonna let you go back to jail.”
Winnie, Sollie’s Filipino housemaid, came out, announcing that we had a visitor.
Ellie followed a few steps behind.
I jumped up out of the chair.
“Your ears must be burning, dear.” Sollie Roth smiled. “Look at your boyfriend. He’s so worried about you, he can’t keep score.”
“He’s right,” I said, and gave her a hug. “So, how’d it go?”
She shrugged, sitting down at the table. “Between getting Moretti killed and hanging out with you, I’m what you call an Agent’s Manual disaster. The ADIC took the appropriate action. Until we work this out, I’m on disciplinary review.”
“You get to keep your job?” I asked hopefully.
“Maybe.” Ellie shrugged. “Pending one thing…”
“What’s that?” I swallowed, figuring it was some sort of drawn-out procedural review.
“Us,” she said. “Taking down Dennis Stratton.”
I didn’t know if I had heard her right. I sat there, looking at her a bit quizzically. “You said us?”
“Yeah, Ned,” Ellie said, the tiniest of smiles peeking through. “You and me. That would be us.”
Chapter 95
ELLIE HAD some digging to do first. In the art world, of all places. What the hell was it about this piece? The Gaume.
There were countless ways to do research on a painter, even one she had barely heard of, who had died a hundred years before.
She went online, but she could find hardly a thing on Henri Gaume. The painter had lived a totally unremarkable life. They were no biographies. Then she looked him up in the Benezit, the vast encyclopedia of French painters and sculptors, translating from the French herself. There was virtually nothing. He was born in 1836 in Clamart. He painted for a while, in Montmartre, exhibiting between 1866 and 1870 at the prestigious Salon de Paris. Then he disappeared off the artistic map. The painting that was stolen – Stratton hadn’t even put in an insurance claim on it – was called Faire le ménage (Housework). A housemaid gazing into a mirror over a basin. She couldn’t find a provenance on it; it wasn’t listed.