“He killed Liz, too,” I said, loud enough so that anyone nearby turned to hear. “And covered it up in that ridiculous affair because she was about to turn him in. He stole his own art and resold it, then had those people killed in Lake Worth to make it seem like a theft gone bad. But he’s been searching for something. Something that wasn’t supposed to be taken. Right, Mr. Stratton?”
I held out the wrapped shipping box.
Stratton’s eyes widened. “Oh, Mr. Kelly, whatever in the world do you have there?”
I had him. I had him nailed. I could see that always-incontrol veneer begin to crack and sweat form on his brow.
I spotted Lawson edging closer through the crowd. And worse, Stratton’s henchman, Ponytail.
“Too bad, then, that Moretti was killed by your own father,” Stratton said. “Why not tell everybody that? I think it’s you who’s doing the covering up. You’re the one out on bail. You don’t have the slightest proof.”
“The proof…” I looked at him and smiled. “The proof’s in the painting.” I held out the package. “The one you asked me to bring here tonight, Mr. Stratton. The Gaume.”
Stratton eyed the bundle, wetting his lips, a damp, nervous sheen bubbling up on his brow.
Hushed whispers trickled through the gathering crowd. People were crowding closer, trying to hear what was going on.
“This… this is absurd,” he started to stammer, searching for a friendly face. People were waiting for an answer. I was almost gleeful.
Then he turned back to me, but instead of unraveling, his face began to regain its accustomed control. “This pathetic act might actually work,” he said, his eyes lighting up, “if you actually had that painting in the box. Right, Mr. Kelly?”
The ballroom was suddenly silent. I felt as if every eye had turned to me. Stratton knew. He knew I didn’t have the goods. How?
“Go on, open it. Show the world your evidence. Somehow, I don’t think this is going to play very well when it comes to your sentencing.”
How did he know? In that instant I flashed through the possibilities. Ellie… no way! Lawson…he wasn’t in the loop. Stratton had another mole. He had someone else in the FBI.
“I warned you, Mr. Kelly, didn’t I,” Stratton said, smiling icily, “not to waste my time?”
Ponytail grabbed hold of my arm. I noticed Champ pushing through the crowd, wondering what he could do.
I glared back at Stratton. All I could do was spit out one helpless question: “How?”
“Because I told him, Ned,” said a voice in the crowd.
I recognized it instantly. And my heart began to sink. Everything I trusted, every certainty, fell away from me.
“Ned Kelly,” Stratton said, grinning. “I believe you know Sol Roth.”
Chapter 105
“SORRY, NEDDIE-BOY,” Sol said, and slowly stepped out of the crowd.
It was as if I had been slapped in the face. I know I turned white, stunned, taken totally by surprise. Sol was my secret weapon, my ace in the hole tonight.
All I could do was stare at the old man, dumbfounded, dazed – a massive weight crashing floor by floor through the planks of my heart. I’d seen my brother killed. My best friends brutally murdered. But until that moment I didn’t really know what I was fighting. The rich banding with the rich. It was a club. I was on the outside. I felt my eyes sting with tears.
“You were right,” Sol sighed guiltily, “I brokered a private sale between Dennis and a very patient Middle Eastern collector. He has the art safely in a vault where it will sit quietly for twenty years. Quite lucrative, if I may say so myself…”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Every word out of his mouth was like a lance jabbed deeper. I hope you appreciate it, Sol. And that you spend it well. That money bought the deaths of my brother and best friends.
Stratton nodded to Ponytail. I felt a blunt object jab me in the ribs. A gun.
“But what I never counted on, you greedy son of a bitch” – Sol’s tone suddenly changed and he turned toward Stratton – “was that all those people were going to die.”
Stratton blinked, the smirk on his lips gone.
“Or that you were capable of killing Liz, whose family I’ve known for forty years, you sick, conspiring fuck.”
Stratton’s jaw tightened, uncomprehending.
“We sat by while you sucked the life out of her, you monster. We watched you, so all of us bear some blame. If I’m ashamed of anything in this godforsaken mess, it’s that. Liz was a good woman.”
Sollie reached inside his jacket pocket. He came out holding a Baggie. In it there was some kind of key. A hotel key. The Brazilian Court. Just as we had planned. Tess’s key. He turned to Ponytail, who still had a gun stuck in my ribs. “You left this in your pocket, big fella. Next time, you oughta be more careful who goes through the wash.”
Stratton stared, mesmerized by the key, his face turning a shade of gray. Every person in the Circle Ballroom could see comprehension forming on his face.
Liz.
Liz had found Tess’s key. She had screwed him from the grave.
I don’t know which was better, watching Stratton start to come apart in front of his society friends or thinking how Dave and Mickey would have loved how we set him up. Sol shot me a wink, like, How’s that, Ned? But all I was thinking was Jesus, Dave, I hope you’re watching. I hope you’re eating this up.
Then Sollie turned around. Not to me, but to Lawson. “I think you have the evidence you need…”
The detective stepped forward and took Stratton by the arm. No one in the room was more shocked than I was. Ellie and I were sure he was Stratton’s man.
“Dennis Stratton, you’re under arrest for the murders of Tess McAuliffe and Liz Stratton.”
Stratton stood there, lips quivering at Sollie, totally aghast.
Then everything started to come apart. Ponytail took the gun off my ribs and, grabbing me as cover, thrust it toward the Palm Beach cop. Champ dove out of the crowd and barreled into him, sending the punk reeling across the room. They wrestled for a second, Geoff rolling him onto his back.
“Hate to do this to you, mate, but you owe me a chrome side grille for my Ducati.” Champ head-butted Ponytail in the forehead. With a loud crack, the thug’s head went back.
That was when his gun went off.
At first there were screams, people pushing frantically toward the entrance. “Someone’s shooting!”
I looked at Stratton, Lawson, Sollie…As a last resort, my eyes drifted to Champ. He hung there, straddled over Ponytail. A disbelieving smile slowly crept onto his lips. At first I thought he was saying, See, I told you I had your back, mate. But then I could see it was more like shock. Blood began to seep through his white shirt.
“Geoff!” I yelled. He had started to reel. I lunged and caught him, bringing him gently down to the floor.
“Shit, Neddie,” he said, looking at me, “bastard owes me a whole new bike for this one.”
Another crack rang out, and then mayhem. Stratton’s other bodyguard was shooting. I saw Lawson go down. Everyone else hit the floor.
A slug ripped into the bodyguard’s chest and he fell back through a window, dragging embroidered curtains off giant rods and onto the floor. Then I caught sight of Stratton, free of Lawson’s grasp. He was backing away, slinking toward the kitchen door.
I was shouting into the mike for Ellie. “Champ’s down. He’s hit!” But she wasn’t answering. I had changed the plan on everyone. Now what?
“Jesus, mate, go,” Champ said. He wet his lips. “For God’s sake, I’ve got everything under control down here.”