I had watched my father kill Special Agent in Charge George Moretti.

Part Six. ONE THING PENDING

Chapter 92

FBI SUPERVISOR Hank Cole stared out at the view of the Miami skyline from his office window. Behind it, nothing but gorgeous blue sea. Sure beat the hell out of Detroit, the ADIC reminded himself. Or Fairbanks! He wondered if they even had golf courses in Alaska. Cole knew he had to salvage something out of this mess. And fast. If he wanted to keep that fancy title in front of his name, if he wanted to keep seeing this delicious view every day.

First, his office had spearheaded an all-out, national manhunt for the wrong man. Okay, that happens. Anyone could see how Kelly fit the bill. But then the lead FBI investigator on the case accuses her own boss of trying to kill her in her home to cover up that he was the trigger man in the whole thing. Then Moretti gets gunned down as the cops are taking him away.

And by whom? Cole crumpled a piece of paper tightly in his fist. By the father of the original suspect!

Oh, he was going down! ADIC Cole clenched his teeth. The press was going to have a field day. There’d have to be an internal investigation. The Bureau would tear flesh out of his throat. Cole felt a pain in his chest, thought maybe it was a heart attack. A heart attack…I should be so lucky.

“Assistant Director Cole?”

Cole turned away from the window and back to the meeting in his office.

Sitting around his conference table were James Harpering, the Bureau’s chief local counsel; Mary Rappaport, Palm Beach County DA; and Art Ficke, the new agent in charge.

As well as his own private, career torpedoer herself, Special Agent Ellie Shurtleff.

“So, what do we have,” Cole tried to ask calmly, “to back up Special Agent Shurtleff’s allegations against Moretti?”

“There’s the gun trace,” Ficke proposed. “And Moretti’s prior connection to Earl Anson. Adds up to some good detective work.” He nodded to Ellie Shurtleff. “But all about as circumstantial as you can get.”

“There’s Frank Kelly’s testimony,” Ellie said.

“The admission of a career felon? With a grudge against the deceased?” Harpering, the lawyer, shrugged. “It could stand up, if we could establish a prior connection between the two.”

“We have about forty-eight hours,” Cole sniffed, “before someone from Washington takes over. So giving some credence to Special Agent Shurtleff’s claim, how do we stand on Stratton? Can we tie him to Moretti in any way?”

“Contact between Moretti and Stratton would have been understandable,” Harpering injected. “He was the agent in charge on his case.”

“What about prior to the art being stolen?”

“Moretti was a pro, sir,” Ficke said.

“Goddammit.” Cole pushed back his chair. “If Moretti was dirty, I want it out. Stratton, too. So, for the sake of this group, Special Agent Shurtleff” – he looked at Ellie – “and your career, would you please tell us again how Special Agent in Charge Moretti happened to end up at your house?”

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.”