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  There was a gorgeous lap pool in back, and a pool house in the style of the main building under a canopy of leaning palms. I glanced at my watch: 7:40. The crew would be getting in position, Dee scanning the police frequencies.

  Take a deep breath, Neddie. . . . Everything was rolling on this—years of a clean record, the possibility of jail, whatever was going to happen with Tess. I told myself that this one time, it was worth the chance. And that I wasn’t doing something I hadn’t done a few times before.

  I snuck around the side of the pool to the sliding rear doors. A typical latch lock. I could see art on the walls inside. I was sure there was an alarm contact on the door.

  I took a metal jimmy from my back pocket and jammed it between the doorframe and the glass slider. I pried at the space. There was a little movement, but the lock would not budge. I wasn’t surprised. I wedged it in there again. Suddenly there was the slightest slip. C’mon, Neddie, hard!

  I felt the glass frame give way. Suddenly, several loud, penetrating beeps resonated around the house. Lights flashed on, and my heart stood still. I looked through the glass and didn’t see anyone.

  I’d done what I came to do. I was outta there!

  I hurried out the same way I entered, hugging the hedges until I reached the street. I jumped back in the Bonneville. No one came to the street. I didn’t see any lights going on. You could barely hear the alarm sounding behind me. But I knew the police were on their way.

  I felt a shot of adrenaline.

  One down!

  I drove back onto County, reassuring myself that the cops weren’t waiting for me at every turn. Keep cool. . . . So far, everything was according to plan.

  I drove south over to Cocoanut Row, past the Royal Poinciana Plaza. I made a right toward the lake. A street protected by hedges, called Seabreeze. This time, it was an old plantation-style ranch, like from the thirties. I parked half a block away and tried to mosey up to the house as inconspicuously as I could, though I had a timetable to keep.

  I saw an ADT security sticker on the front door. That’ll scare off the robbers. I hung for a second in the hedgerow, took a look around. Down the block a woman was walking her dog, and I gave her a moment to go back inside. 7:58. Clear. I found a rock on the ground. I hurled it as hard as I could at the front window. A shrill alarm sounded and suddenly an automatic light bathed the driveway in unexpected illumination. I heard the high-pitched sound of a dog barking.

  I took off, hugging the shadows, my heart beating a mile a minute. That’s two!

  The last one was one of those stately Mizner mansions on El Bravo off South County below Worth Avenue. It was 8:05. I was right on schedule.

  There was a huge boxwood hedge in the shape of an arch, and a heavy iron gate. I figured there must be an army of servants inside. I parked the car a block or so from the house and went around back. I wedged myself through the tall sculptured hedges. This was a house for the ages. Had to belong to some Old Guard family, Lauder or Tisch, or maybe some hotshot Internet billionaire. The glass French doors overlooking the sea were double-sided. I’d never break them.

  I hugged the side of the house and came across a regular framed door I assumed led to the kitchen. I looked inside, no light.

  I wrapped my hand in a cloth I was carrying and punched through a glass panel in the door. Shit . . . No sound.

  I glanced at my watch. Mickey and the guys were ready to go in.

  I reached inside the door and twisted the knob and let myself in. Jeez, Louise. I was in some kind of pantry, leading toward the rear of the house. I saw a sunroom overlooking the lawn. Next to it was a dining room. High ceilings, tapestries on the walls. A couple of candelabra that looked as if they might have belonged to the Romanovs.

  God, am I crazy doing this? I knew the place was wired. Clearly the owners or the staff hadn’t put on the alarm. I was thinking I could search along the windows for the contact points. 8:10. The crew would be going in at any moment. I had to get this done. My heart was racing.

  Suddenly I heard footsteps and I froze. A black woman in a white robe shuffled toward the kitchen. Must be the maid. She looked up and saw me, and I could see by the little gag in her throat, she was more scared than I was.

  She didn’t scream, her jaw just dropped. My face was hidden under the cap. There was nothing she could identify about me. I just stood there for a second and muttered, “Sorry, ma’am.” Then I bolted for the door.

  I figured that in two seconds she would be on the phone to the police. That was as good as an alarm.

  I ran back through the hedges and hugged the shadows to Ocean Boulevard. I jumped in the Bonneville, slammed it into in gear, and drove away at a reasonable speed. I looked back. Everything was dark. No one had come out to get a look at my plates. It was 8:15. Cops were probably crisscrossing all over town, trying to figure out what the hell was going on.

  “You’re goddamn crazy, Ned Kelly!” I shouted at the top of my lungs.

  Three house alarms in record time!

  I hit the accelerator and felt the night sea breeze whip my hair. I was alongside the ocean and the moon was lighting it up and I felt an incredible thrill buzzing through my veins. I thought about Tess. How it could be with her. How I’d been marking time down there for a long time, and now I’d made the perfect score.

  Chapter 10

  SOMETHING DIDN’T FEEL RIGHT. Mickey sensed it as soon as they stepped through the front gates.

  He had an inner feeling about these things.

  The house was there in front of them. Spectacular, vast. Lit up like this great Italian palace. Pointed Venetian arches and windows with stone balconies. An arched loggia, ringed with bougainvillea, leading around to the sea. The driveway was probably a hundred yards long, every bush and tree perfectly lit. He heard the crunch of pebbles under their heels. They were in stolen police uniforms. Even if someone was around, no one would suspect a thing. Everything was just the way he was told it’d be.

  And still he had this bad feeling in his gut.

  He looked at Bobby and Barney. He could see they were nervous, too. He knew them well enough to know what they were thinking.

  Never been so close to anything this grand.

  Casa Del Océano. Ocean House.

  Mickey knew everything about the place. He had studied it. Knew it was built by someone named Addison Mizner in 1923. He knew the interior layout, the alarms. How to get in, where the paintings were.

  So why did he feel nervous? C’mon, he thought, to calm himself, there’s five million bucks inside.

  “So what the hell is that?” Barney nudged him with the black satchel containing his tools. At the end of the long pebbled driveway, there was this huge, lit-up marble . . . bowl.

  “Birdbath,” Mickey answered, and grinned.

  “Birdbath?” Barney shrugged and adjusted the brim of his police cap. “More like a fucking pterodactyl!”

  Mickey’s watch read 8:15. Dee had called in; Ned, as expected, had done his job. Cop cars were probably bouncing all over town right now. He knew there were cameras hidden in the trees, so they kept their faces hidden under their caps. In front of the oak doors, he took a last glance at Bobby and Barney. They were ready. They had waited a long time for this.

  Mickey rang the bell, and a minute later a Latino housekeeper answered. Mickey knew there was no one else in the house. He explained how there were disturbances all over town, and an alarm had gone off there, and they were sent to check it out. Maybe she noticed Barney’s bag. Maybe she wondered where their car was. But a second later, Bobby whacked her with his Maglite and dragged her into a closet. She never got a decent look. He came back wearing a smirk as wide as the Charles River. A million-dollar smile.

  They were in!

  Chapter 11

  THE FIRST THING WAS to disable the interior alarm. The paintings and sculptures were wired to contact points that would go off if they were lifted. Motion detectors, too. Mickey unfolded a piece of paper he had stuffed in
his uniform pocket.

  He punched in the numbers on a digital plate: 10-02-85.

  This better work. Everything depended on the . . . next . . . couple . . . of . . . seconds.

  A green light flashed on. Systems clear! For the first time, Mickey’s stomach actually relaxed. A grin came over his face. This was going to happen! He winked at Bobby and Barney. “Okay, fellas, the place is ours.”

  In front of them, a carved mahogany archway led into the large vaulted living room. Spectacular stuff was just about everywhere. Art all over the walls. There was a large stone fireplace and some scene from Venice over the mantel. A Canaletto, but he’d been told to leave it. Blue and white Chinese urns, bronze Brancusis. A chandelier that looked as if it came from a czar. Six French doors led out to a patio overlooking the sea.

  “I don’t know if this is what that guy meant when he said the rich were different from us,” Barney said, gawking, “but, uh . . . holy shit.”

  “Forget it.” Mickey grinned excitedly. “This is cab fare compared with what we’ve come for!”

  He knew where to go. The Cézanne was in the dining room. That was to the right. Barney took out a hammer and a file from his black case to pry the canvases out of their heavy antique frames.

  The dining room had flocked red wallpaper and a long polished table with giant candelabra. It looked as though it could seat half the free world.

  Mickey’s heart was pounding. Look for the Cézanne, he was saying to himself—apples and pears. On the right-hand wall.

  But instead of the $5 million thrill he was expecting to feel, his insides turned to ice. Cold, right at the center of his chest.

  The wall was empty. There was no still life. No Cézanne.

  The painting wasn’t there!

  Mickey felt a sharp stab through his heart. For a second, the three of them stood there, staring at the empty space. Then he took off, running to the other side of the house.

  The library.

  The Picasso was over the fireplace on the wall. Mickey’s blood was rushing and hot. Everything had been mapped out. He ran into the book-lined room.

  Another chill. No, this was more like a freezer blast.

  No Picasso! This wall space was empty, too! Suddenly he felt like vomiting. “What the fuck —?”

  Mickey ran like a madman back to the front of the house. He bounded up the large staircase to the second floor. This was their last chance. The bedroom. There was supposed to be a Jackson Pollock on the bedroom wall. They weren’t going to lose this. He’d worked too hard. This was their ticket out. He had no idea what the hell was going on.

  Mickey got there first, Bobby and Barney right behind him. They stopped and stared at the wall, the same nauseated look on all their faces.

  “Sonuvabitch!” Mickey shouted. He smashed his fist through a framed print on the wall, leaving his knuckles bloody.

  The Pollock was gone. Just like the Picasso and the Cézanne. He wanted to kill whoever did this—whoever had stolen his dreams.

  Someone had set them up!

  Chapter 12

  SEEMS SILLY NOW . . . an orange martini . . . a sailboat drifting on a blue Caribbean sea . . .

  That’s what I was thinking when I first got word something had gone wrong.

  I was parked on South County Road, across from the Palm Beach firehouse, tracking the cop cars racing by me, lights and sirens blaring. I had done my job really, really well.

  I was letting myself think about Tess lying next to me on the deck. In a tight little suit, all gorgeous and tanned. And we were sipping those martinis. Don’t know who was making them. Let’s throw in a skipper and a crew. But we were somewhere in the Caribbean. And they tasted soooo good.

  That’s when Dee’s voice crackled on the walkie-talkie. “Ned, where are you? Neddie!”

  Just hearing her voice made me nervous all over again. I wasn’t supposed to hear from her until we met back at the house in Lake Worth at 9:30. She sounded scared. I think I knew right then that the scene on the sailboat was never going to happen.

  “Ned, something’s gone wrong!” Dee shouted. “Get back here, right now!”

  I picked up the receiver and pressed the TALK button. “Dee, what do you mean, ‘gone wrong’?”

  “The job’s busted,” she said. “It’s goddamn over, Ned.”

  I had known Dee since we were kids. She was always cool. But disappointment and anger were exploding through her voice.

  “What do you mean ‘busted’?” I said. “Bobby and Mickey, are they all right?”

  “Just get back here,” she said. “Mickey’s contact . . . Gachet. The bastard set us up!”

  Chapter 13

  My heart almost came to a full stop at that moment. What did Dee mean, ‘set us up’?

  My head dropped to rest on the steering wheel. All I knew was a name—Gachet. Mickey never told us any more. But it was clear, the job was gone. My million dollars, too. Then I realized it could get worse. Much worse. Mickey, Bobby, and Barney could get nabbed.

  I put the car in gear but I wasn’t sure where I should go. Back to the safe house? Or to my room at Sollie’s, and just stay clear? I suddenly realized that everything was in jeopardy. My job, my place at Sollie’s. My whole life. I flashed to Tess. . . . Everything!

  I started to drive. I made a right onto Royal Palm Way, heading toward the middle bridge over to West Palm.

  Suddenly sirens blared all around me. I froze. I looked behind and there were cops cars gaining on me. My heart got a jolt as if I had touched a live wire. I was caught! I slowed, waiting for them to pull me over.

  But, incredibly, they raced right by. Two black-and-whites. They weren’t looking for me, or even headed in the direction of Ocean House, or of any of the places I’d set off alarms. Weird.

  Suddenly they turned down Cocoanut Row, the last major street before the bridge. They made a sharp left into traffic, sirens blaring, lights flashing. Didn’t make sense at all.

  Where could they be headed with all the shit going on all over town? I followed, at least for a couple of blocks. The black-and-whites turned onto Australian Avenue. I saw them come to a stop halfway down the block.

  More cops cars. A morgue van, too.

  They were pulled up in front of the Brazilian Court. I started to get nervous. That was where Tess lived. What was going on?

  I parked the Bonneville at the end of the block and wandered up closer to the hotel. There was a crowd across the street from the entrance. I’d never seen so many cop cars in Palm Beach. This was crazy. We were the ones they ought to be after. I knew I’d better get back to Lake Worth. But Dee’s words echoed in my head. The bastard set us up. Set up, how?

  A ring of onlookers had crowded around front of the hotel entrance. I eased my way in. I went up to a woman in a white sweater over her sundress holding the hand of a young boy. “What’s going on?”

  “There’s been a murder,” she answered anxiously. “That’s what all those sirens were about.”

  “Oh,” I mumbled.

  Now I was really starting to get scared. Tess lives here. I pushed out of the crowd, not even thinking about myself. Hotel staff in black uniforms were being ushered outside. I latched onto a desk clerk, a blond woman I recognized from earlier in the day. “Can you tell me what’s going on?”

  “Someone’s been killed.” She shook her head, dazed. “A woman. In the hotel.”

  “A woman.” I held her eyes. Now I was starting to freak. “You mean a guest?”

  “Yes.” Then she looked at me funny. I couldn’t tell if she remembered me or not. “Room 121,” she said.

  My world started to spin. I stood there, numb, feeling my lips quiver. I tried to say something, but nothing came out.

  Room 121 was the Bogart Suite.

  Tess is dead, isn’t she?

  Chapter 14

  I WATCHED just long enough to see the stretcher loaded into the flashing morgue van. That’s when I saw Tess’s hand, dangling through the body ta
rp, those three gold bracelets hanging from her wrist.

  I backed away from the crowd, feeling as if my chest were going to explode. All I could think was that I had just left her, a few hours before. . . .

  I had to get out of there. The Palm Beach police were all around. I was afraid they’d be looking for me, too.

  I made it back to my car just as the shakes took over my body. Then this awful knot hurtled up in my throat. I threw up on somebody’s manicured lawn.

  Tess was dead.

  How could that be? I had just left her. I had just spent the most wonderful afternoon of my life with her. The hotel maid said murdered. How? Why? Who would kill Tess?

  In a daze, I started to fast-forward through the days since we met. How we agreed to see each other again; how the Ocean House job had been set up.

  Everything was separate. It was just a coincidence. A horrible one. I felt myself fighting back tears.

  Then, unable to hold it back any longer, the dam burst.

  I hung my head and just stayed there, my face smeared with tears. At some point I realized I had to leave. Someone could have recognized me from that afternoon. That blond desk clerk! I couldn’t exactly go to the police and clear myself, not with what had happened tonight. I pulled out from the curb. I didn’t know where the hell I was going. Just away.

  Chapter 15

  I MADE A LEFT, then another, found myself back on Royal Palm. My mind was a mess. My clothes were soaked in sweat. I drove the whole way down to Lake Worth in a daze. Everything had just changed. Everything in my life. It had happened once before—in Boston. But this time I wasn’t going to be able to put it back together.

  I turned off 95 onto Sixth Avenue, the awful image of Tess’s dangling wrist and the sound of Dee’s freaked-out warning alternating in my head.