Lifeguard

I looked at the addresses. El Bravo, Clarke, Wells Road.

Some of the nicest streets in Palm Beach. The “core people” lived there – the Old Guard.

“We meet back here at half past nine,” Mickey said. “We should have the money in our accounts tomorrow. Any questions?”

Mickey looked around the table. The people I’d known all my life, my best friends. He tilted his beer. “This one’s it. After this, we’re done. Dee, you and Bobby can buy that restaurant you’re always talking about. Barney’s got a car dealership in Natick with his name on it. Neddie, you can go write the Great American Novel or buy a hockey team, whatever. I always told you I’d get you this one chance, and here it is. Five million. I’m happy we’re all here to share it. So… hands on the table… This is what we’ve been working for since we were thirteen years old.” He looked from face to face. “Last chance to bow out now. Guys…Neddie, are we in?”

My stomach was churning. This was bigger than anything I’d ever done before. Truth was, I was actually happy living a regular life down there. But would something like this ever come my way again? Life had taken a few things from me up North. It seemed this was my way of grabbing back a piece.

“In,” said Bobby, Barney, Dee.

I took a breath. Five million. I knew I was crossing the line. But I wanted this. Like Tess said, maybe my luck was changing. I was starting to dream again, and a million dollars buys a lot of dreams.

I put my hand on top of the pile.

“In,” I said.

Chapter 9

IT DOESN’T RAIN in Palm Beach, it Perriers. Some asshole told me that line once, but there was an element of truth to it. This was de?nitely the place for the perfect score.

An hour and a half after the meeting in Lake Worth, I parked the Bonneville down the block from an impressive stucco-and-glass contemporary behind a tall hedge on Wells Road. I was dressed in a baseball cap and jeans, and a dark T-shirt that blended into the dusky light.

Reidenouer, the mailbox read. I was wondering if this was the same Reidenouer who’d been all over the news for running a Florida health-care company into the ground. If so, it hurt a little less.

A Mercedes SUV was parked in the circular tiled driveway. I crept around the driveway and lifted the latch on a metal gate that led to the back. I was praying that no one was in the house and that the alarm would be set. The interior was dark, except for a single dim light that seemed to be coming from deep inside. Kitchen, maybe. The Reidenouers were supposed to be at the Breakers. Everything seemed perfect. Except maybe the ten thousand butter?ies ?uttering in my stomach.

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 ?ashed 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 ?gured 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 shuf?ed 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 ?gured 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 ?gure out what the hell was going on.