Lifeguard by James Patterson Read Free Book Online

paid eleven million for that alone.”
    Overpaid.
Ellie clucked a little. Down there, some people tried to buy their way into the social circuit through their art.
    “And don’t forget the Gaume….” Stratton started to leaf through some papers on his lap.
    “Henri Gaume?” Ellie said. She checked the list. She was surprised to see it there. Gaume was a decent postimpressionist, moderately collectible. But at thirty to forty thousand, a rounding error next to what else had been taken.
    “My wife’s favorite, right, dear? It was like someone was trying to stab us right through the heart. We have to have it back. Look…” Stratton put on a pair of reading glasses, fumbling on Ellie’s name.
    “Special Agent Shurtleff,” Ellie said.
    “Agent Shurtleff.” Stratton nodded. “I want this perfectly clear. You seem like a thorough sort, and I’m sure it’s your job to nose around here a bit, make a few notes, then go back to the office and file some report before you break for the day….”
    Ellie felt the blood boil in her veins.
    “But I don’t want this tossed up the chain of command in a memo that gets dropped on some regional director’s desk.
I want my paintings back.
Every single one of them. I want the top people in the department working on this. The money means nothing here. These paintings were insured for sixty million….”
    Sixty million?
Ellie smiled to herself.
Maybe forty, at the most.
People always have an inflated impression of what they own. The Cézanne still life was ordinary. She’d seen it come up at auctions several times, never commanding more than the reserve. The Picasso was from the Blue Period, when he was turning out paintings just to get laid. The Pollock—well, the Pollock was good, Ellie had to admit. Someone had steered him right there.
    “But what they took here is irreplaceable.” Stratton kept his eyes on her. “And that includes the Gaume. If the FBI isn’t up to it, I’ll get my own people involved. I can do that, you understand. Tell that to your superiors. You get the right people on it for me. Can you do that, Agent Shurtleff?”
    “I think I have what I need,” Ellie said. She folded the inventory into her notes. “Just one thing. Can I ask who set the alarm when you went out last night?”
    “The alarm?” Stratton shrugged. He glanced at his wife. “I don’t know that we did. Lila was here. Anyway, the interior alarms are always activated. These paintings were connected straight to the local police. We’ve got motion detection. You saw the setup down there.”
    Ellie nodded. She packed her notes in her briefcase. “And who else knew the code?”
    “Liz. Me. Miguel, our property manager, Lila. Our daughter, Rachel, who’s at Princeton.”
    Ellie looked at him closely. “The interior alarm, I meant.”
    Stratton tossed down his papers. Ellie saw a wrinkle carved into his brow. “What are you suggesting? That someone knew the code? That that’s how they got in here?”
    He started to get red in the face. He looked over at Lawson. “What’s going on here, Vern? I want qualified people looking into this. Professionals, not some junior agent, making accusations… I know the Palm Beach cops are sitting on their hands. Can’t we do something about this?”
    “Mr. Stratton,” the Palm Beach detective said, looking uncomfortable, “it’s not like this was the only thing going on last night. Five people were killed.”
    “Just one more thing,” Ellie said, headed for the door. “You mind telling me what the interior alarm code was?”
    “The alarm code,” Stratton said, his lips tightening. She could see he resented this. Stratton was used to snapping his fingers and seeing people jump. “Ten, oh two, eighty-five,” he recited slowly.
    “Your daughter’s birthday?” Ellie asked, trying a hunch.
    Dennis Stratton shook his head. “My first IPO.”

Chapter 20
    JUNIOR AGENT. Ellie seethed as the butler closed the front door behind her and she