James Patterson - Lifeguard

“SO HOW DO I LOOK?” Geoff grinned, peering coolly over his Oakleys. “Clean up pretty well for an outback grease monkey, if I say so myself. Credit the Pob store in town.”

The well-appointed front room and bar at Ta-boó was filled with the in crowd of Palm Beach. Blondes, blondes everywhere, women in pastel-colored Polo cashmere with Hermès bags; men in their Stubbs & Wootton slippers and sunglasses, Trillion sweaters draped over their shoulders, picking at stone crabs and Caesar salads, some of the best grub in Palm Beach. Several patrons looked as if they had stepped in out of the mansions on Ocean Drive.

“George Hamilton’s got nothing on you,” Ellie said, glancing over Geoff’s shoulder across the room.

Liz Stratton was seated at a corner table, having lunch with three girlfriends. Her two bodyguards were at the bar, one eye on Liz, the other drifting to another slender blonde who had just climbed out of a Lamborghini.

“Just soaking up the view,” Geoff said, smiling, “until I spring into action. Never know when I’ll get invited back here to the island.”

Ellie sipped her Perrier and lime. Her stomach had a riot going on inside. Just to be sitting in Ta-boó, she must be out of her mind. Up till now, she could make the case that she was doing her job. In a few minutes, though, if things didn’t go so well, “aiding and abetting” would be a gift plea for her.

The key was to get Liz Stratton out of the restaurant and keep the bodyguards there. Ned was waiting in back with the car. They would whisk her away, and hopefully Liz would be as eager to talk as they were to hear her.

“Jesus,” Geoff said, craning his neck and nudging Ellie with his elbow, “tell me that’s not Rod Stewart at the bar?”

“That’s not Rod Stewart. But I think I see Tommy Lee Jones.”

A waiter named Louis came up and asked if they were ready to order. “Stone crabs for me,” Geoff said, closing the menu, as though he did this every day. Ellie ordered a chicken salad. She had a receiver in her ear, wired to Ned in back. They just had to wait for the right time to make a move. Oh, brother …

A few minutes passed. The waiter came with their meals. All of a sudden, Liz Stratton stood up with one of her friends. They headed toward the ladies’ room.

“It’s happening now , Ned,” Ellie said into the wire. She cast a cautious eye at the bar. “Watch my back, Champ.”

“Just my luck. Food looks great,” Geoff groaned, looking at his just-arrived crab claws.

Ellie got out of her seat and made a beeline to Liz, intercepting her in the back of the restaurant. Liz blinked back a vague look of recognition.

Ellie leaned in as if to give her a kiss. “You know who I am, Mrs. Stratton. We know about you and Tess McAuliffe. We have to talk to you. There’s a back door straight ahead. We have a car outside. We can do this real smoothly if you come now.”

“Tess…” she said hesitantly. Then a quick eye to her guards, “No, I can’t…”

“Yes, you can, Liz,” Ellie said. “It’s either this or you go down for extortion and accessory to murder. Just don’t look behind, and follow me out the door.”

Liz Stratton stood there, unsure what to do.

“Believe me, Mrs. Stratton, no one’s looking to lay any of this on you.”

Liz Stratton twitched back a nod. “Suz, you go ahead,” she told her friend. “I’ll be in in a second.”

Ellie put her arm across Liz’s shoulders and quietly tried to propel her forward. “Ned, we’re coming out,” she said.

One of the bodyguards got up. He stood there, watching for a second, trying to gauge what was going on.

Ellie pushed Liz through the door. C’mon, Champ, now! Do your thing .

“G’day, mates.” Geoff stepped up to the bar, blocking their way. “Either of you know where a guy might find a ticket to the Britney Spears Dance America concert at the Kravis?” I think it’s at the Kravis.

“Fuck off,” the bodyguard with the ponytail said, attempting to push past him.

“ Fuck off ?” Geoff blinked, stunned. He kicked the legs out from under the big one with the ponytail, knocking him to the floor. “I take my Britney very seriously, mind you, and I don’t care for anyone making her seem like some cheap passed-around tart.” He grabbed the second guy by the arm and hurled him up against the bar. A tray of drinks toppled, glass shattering.

A pretty brunette bartender with the nametag Cindy yelled, “Hey, cut it out!” Then, to the other bartender, “Andy! Need a little help here. Bobby! Michael!”

Suddenly, Ponytail reached inside his jacket and pulled out a gun.

“On the other hand, mate,” Geoff said, backing away, palms up, “anyone who sticks her tongue down Madonna’s throat for the whole world to see is a bit of a slut in my book.”

He pushed a barstool at the startled bodyguards, then made a dash for the front door.

“It is you!” he said, knocking into Rod Stewart at the bar. “Loved the last album, mate. Very romantic. Didn’t know you had it in you.”

“THIS IS NED KELLY,” Ellie said, pushing Liz Stratton into the backseat of her FBI car.

Liz stared, shocked and confused at what she was hearing.

“He’s an innocent man, Mrs. Stratton, who’s being framed for murders we think your husband committed.”

I turned from behind the wheel and peered into Liz Stratton’s eyes. They didn’t look outraged or angry at what was going on. Only a little afraid.

“He’ll kill me,” Liz said. “Can’t you tell – I’m scared to death of him. But I can’t hold this together anymore.”

“We’re going to put him away, Mrs. Stratton.” Ellie squeezed into the rear seat next to her. “But to do it we need your help.”

I hit the gas and gunned the car as soon as I heard the door slam in back. I went around the block and stopped on a side street.

Ellie turned and faced Mrs. Stratton. This was it, I knew. What Liz said in the next two minutes could save, or doom, me. “We know you set up Marty Miller to pose as Tess McAuliffe to have an affair with your husband.”

Liz swallowed, knowing there was no point keeping up the pretense anymore. “Yes, I set him up,” she said. Part of her seemed to smile while admitting it; another part seemed on the verge of tears.

“And, yes, I know he found out and had her killed. I know it was wrong, terribly wrong. But my husband’s a dangerous man. He won’t let me go anywhere without those goons.”

“I can make that end,” Ellie said, placing her hand on Liz’s shoulder. “I can tie him to the murder scene at the Brazilian Court. I just need to prove he found out about what you were doing.”

“Oh, he knew about it,” Liz Stratton sniffed. “He ran a security check on Tess. He traced a bank wire of mine to an account under her real name. He confronted me two days before the art was stolen.”

Liz pulled down her sweater and showed us two dark bruises around her neck. “This proof enough for you?”

I couldn’t wait any longer. I spun around. Liz knew enough that she could change everything that had happened to me. “Please, Mrs. Stratton, who stole the art? Whoever did murdered my friends and my brother. Who is Gachet ?”

She placed her hand on my arm. “I promise you, Mr. Kelly, I had nothing to do with whatever happened to your brother. Or any of the others who died. But I wouldn’t put anything past Dennis. He’s crazy over his art. He wants it back more than anything I’ve ever seen.”

I looked at Ellie. She seemed as surprised to hear these words as I was. If Dennis Stratton didn’t steal his own paintings, then who did?