Page 66 of Hard to Kill

“Why didn’t you tell meyourkid was back in the country?” Jimmy asks. “Or that he used to be a thief?”

“I didn’t know he was back this time,” Jacobson says. “But if he is back, I’ll hear from him eventually, because he’ll want money. But spoiler alert? He’s through getting it from me. The last time he came back he said he owed some bad people. I asked him if they were the same bad people from the last time and then told him to get lost.”

“One of his house-looting buddies was the one who tried to kill me the other night.”

“Wolk or Morelli?”

“Wolk.”

Jacobson snorts. “I wouldn’t have thought he had the balls.”

Jacobson starts to get up off the couch. “We done now?”

“We’re done when I tell you we’re done.”

“Least I know you’ve got some balls on you.”

“How come you didn’t tell Jane or me after Morelli testified against you that he and Eric were partners in crime?”

Jacobson doesn’t answer right away. The leg with the ankle bracelet is stretched out on the coffee table, and Jacobson is staring at it suddenly, curious almost, like maybe he can’t believe that after the pampered, rich-boy life he’s led, he can’t buy his way out of this.

“I knew Morelli was going to disappear,” Jacobson says finally.

“And why was that?”

“Because his uncle wanted him to disappear after his face got plastered all over the media,” Jacobson says. “I assume by now you know who his uncle is.”

Jimmy nods. “Something else that never came up before.”

“You want to know why? Because I got a call from his uncle, that’s why. At which point he told me to keep my mouth shut for once in my life and if I did, I wouldn’t hear from the kid again until the trial was over.” Jacobson grins. “I’d rather piss you off than Bobby Salvatore, any day of the week. Starting with today.”

Jimmy stands up too quickly and immediately wants to double over in pain. But thinks he manages to hide it.

He turns around when he gets to the door.

“As it happens, the other night Salvatore was at a dinner party thrown by a guy you know.”

“And which guy might that be?”

“Allen Reese.”

“Speaking of gangsters,” Rob Jacobson says.

“Meaning what, exactly?”

Jacobson smirks at Jimmy in a way that reminds him of a chimp.

“You know what they say in the movies, Cunniff. Follow the dirty money.”

FIFTY-THREE

KEVIN AHEARN AND I are in Judge Kane’s chambers at the Nassau County Courthouse by ten. No robe for the judge today, just an exquisitely tailored pantsuit.

I’m already halfway through my presentation about why it would make sense for all concerned to move up the trial date. I began by telling her, and Ahearn, about having a conflict that may at some point down the line affect my ability to responsibly conclude the trial if it doesn’t begin for six or more months.

The judge asks what kind of conflict.

“Personal,” I say.

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