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Also Rises. Great Expectations
. (I guess I always had a thing for the outsider bucking the ruling class.)
    I scribbled out a quick note to Sollie. An explanation that I had to leave suddenly, and why. I hated to go like this. Sol was like an uncle to me. A really great uncle. He let me live in this great house and all I had to do was keep the pool in order, clean a few of his cars, and do a couple of errands. I felt like a real heel, sneaking away in the dark. But what choice did I have?
    I grabbed everything and headed downstairs. I popped the trunk on the Bonneville and tossed in the duffels. I was just taking a last look and saying good-bye to where I’d lived these past three years when the lights went on.
    I spun around, my heart in my throat. Sollie was standing in his bathrobe and slippers, holding a glass of milk. “Jesus, you scared me, Sol.”
    He glanced at the open trunk and the bags. He had a look of disappointment on his face, putting it together. “So I guess you don’t have time for a good-bye game of rummy.”
    “I left a note,” I said a little ashamedly. To have him find me sneaking away like this, and more, for what he was bound to find out in the morning. “Look, Sol, some terrible things have happened. You may hear some stuff…. I just want you to know, they’re not true. I didn’t do it. I didn’t do any of it.”
    He bunched his lips. “It must be bad. C’mon in, kid. Maybe I can help. A man doesn’t run off in the middle of the night.”
    “You can’t”—I dropped my head—“help. No one can now.” I wanted to run up and give him a hug, but I was so nervous and all mixed up. I had to get out of there. “I want to thank you,” I said. I hopped in the Bonneville and turned the ignition. ”For trusting me, Sol. For everything…”
    “Neddie,” I heard him call. “Whatever it is, it can’t be that bad. No problem is too big to solve. When a man needs friends, that’s not the time to run off….”
    But I was at the gates before I could hear the rest. I saw him in the rearview mirror as I swung out of the driveway, driving off.
    I was almost crying as I hit the Flagler Bridge. Leaving everything behind. Mickey, my friends, Tess…
    Poor Tess.
It was killing me, just remembering how we’d been together only hours before, when I thought things were finally working out for me. A million dollars and the girl of my dreams.
    Your luck’s returned, Neddie-boy.
I couldn’t help but laugh.
The bad luck.
    As I headed toward the Flagler Bridge, I could make out the shining towers of the Breakers lighting up the sky. I figured I had a day at most before my name surfaced. I didn’t even know exactly where I was going to go.
    Someone had killed my best friends. Dr. Gachet, I don’t know what the hell kind of doctor you are, but you can be sure I’m gonna make you pay.
    “Split aces,” I muttered again grimly as I crossed the bridge, the bright lights of Palm Beach receding away. The perfect score.
Yeah, right.

Chapter 18
    ELLIE SHURTLEFF WAS KNEELING in front of the security panel in the basement of Casa Del Océano and shining a light on the clipped coaxial cable in her gloved hand.
    Something didn’t make sense at this crime scene.
    As the special agent in charge of the FBI’s new Art Theft and Fraud department for the south Florida region, she’d been waiting a long time for something like this. Sixty million in art reported stolen last night, right in her own backyard. Truth be told, Ellie
was
the department.
    Since leaving New York eight months ago—and the assistant curator thing at Sotheby’s—Ellie had basically sat around the Miami office, monitoring auction sales and Interpol wires, while other agents hauled in drug traffickers and money launderers. She was slowly starting to wonder, like everyone else in her family, if this had been a career move or a career disaster. Art theft wasn’t exactly a glamour assignment down there. Everybody else had law degrees, not