Mickey rang the bell, and a minute later a Latino housekeeper answered. Mickey knew there was no one else in the house. He explained how there were disturbances all over town, and an alarm had gone off there, and they were sent to check it out. Maybe she noticed Barney’s bag. Maybe she wondered where their car was. But a second later, Bobby whacked her with his Maglite and dragged her into a closet. She never got a decent look. He came back wearing a smirk as wide as the Charles River. A million-dollar smile.
They were in!
Chapter 11
THE FIRST THING WAS to disable the interior alarm. The paintings and sculptures were wired to contact points that would go off if they were lifted. Motion detectors, too. Mickey unfolded a piece of paper he had stuffed in his uniform pocket.
He punched in the numbers on a digital plate: 10-02-85.
This better work. Everything depended on the… next… couple…of… seconds.
A green light flashed on. Systems clear! For the first time, Mickey’s stomach actually relaxed. A grin came over his face. This was going to happen! He winked at Bobby and Barney. “Okay, fellas, the place is ours.”
In front of them, a carved mahogany archway led into the large vaulted living room. Spectacular stuff was just about everywhere. Art all over the walls. There was a large stone fireplace and some scene from Venice over the mantel. A Canaletto, but he’d been told to leave it. Blue and white Chinese urns, bronze Brancusis. A chandelier that looked as if it came from a czar. Six French doors led out to a patio overlooking the sea.
“I don’t know if this is what that guy meant when he said the rich were different from us,” Barney said, gawking, “but, uh… holy shit.”