Page 92 of Hard to Kill

Jacobson collects himself, but backs away from Jimmy, hands out in front of him, just in case Jimmy charges him again.

“Hey,” he says. “Hey, Cunniff. Take a chill pill, okay? What’s this all about?”

“Anthony Licata. Joe Champi. Edmund McKenzie. Everythingyou’ve held back on them and freaking held back on the day your father and a young girl, who clearly had shit taste in men, died at your fancy digs on Central Park West. That seems to be the day that people maybe started cleaning up for you. From what I can tell, they never stopped until the cleaner-uppers were Jane and me.”

Jane puts a hand on Jimmy’s arm. He ignores it and keeps moving toward Jacobson, who keeps backing up, seemingly willing in the moment to back all the way to the ocean if it means getting out of Jimmy’s reach.

“That pretty much sets the table,” Jimmy says to Rob Jacobson. “I think we can throw it open to questions now.”

SEVENTY-FOUR

JACOBSON ASKS IF WE can talk while we take the short walk to the beach. Indian Wells Beach, less than a mile away, is outside the range of his ankle monitor, but I make a call and clear it with the court officer.

“He’d be doing us a favor if he tries to swim for it,” I say, “all the way to Portugal. Or do the Azores come first?”

“I believe the Azores are a region of Portugal,” the officer, Molly Newsome, says.

“Nobody likes a know-it-all,” I tell her.

“Look in the mirror,” Molly Newsome says.

As we make our way to Indian Wells, Jacobson makes sure to keep me between him and Jimmy, as Jimmy’s mood hasn’t improved that anyone can tell.

I’m the one to ask Rob Jacobson why he has never once mentioned the partnership between Anthony Licata and Joe Champi, allowing both of us to think that Champi was always acting as a lone wolf, at least where Jacobson was concerned. Like some low-life guardian angel.

“I’m not talking about Licata,” Jacobson says. “Not today and not ever. Cunniff can slap me around all he wants. I’ll still be alive.”

We make our way across the parking lot. Big waves today. Big and beautiful and loud and filling me with a sense of wonder, every time I see them. I think a lot, maybe too much, about all the things the modern world has managed to ruin. Politics and privacy, for example. Civility, you could throw that in, too. But nobody can ever ruin these waves and the scene spread out in front of me. Despite everything happening in my life, the ocean still makes me believe in God.

Even with the way She keeps screwing me around, sometimes on what feels like an hourly basis.

“Where’s Licata now?” I ask.

“The guy I’m not talking about? I honestly don’t know.”

Jimmy snorts. “Honestly. Good one.”

“And by the way?” Jacobson continues. “Why does it matter so much? The guy’s got nothing to do with my trial, which is supposed to be job one for the two of you.”

Jimmy is suddenly on fire again, like Jacobson had pushed the wrong button. “You know what I would discourage you from doing today? Tellingmewhatyouthink my job is.”

We’ve made our way onto the beach. Jimmy moves around me, his back to the water, so he’s directly in front of Rob Jacobson again. In the moment Jacobson does look as if swimming for it might be a better alternative than having Jimmy back up in his face.

“I now know that Licata and Champi were in this from the beginning, along with your old man and your pal Eddie Mc-Kenzie, and his old man.”

Jimmy is pointing a finger at Jacobson, voice rising again, up and over the sound of the water. I know stopping him now, or even slowing him down, would be like trying to stop the waves.

But I have to try.

“Jimmy,” I say again.

“Don’t Jimmy me!”

He at least puts his hand down. “Are you the one who really shot your father and that girl?” he asks Jacobson.

“No,” Jacobson says to Jimmy. “I swear.” He tries to back away from Jimmy, nearly slips and falls in the sand. “I’ve told you before. No matter how much of an asshole you think I am, I’m not a killer.”

“But it has to be either Licata or Champi who killed my partner,” Jimmy says, his voice eerily low. “You think I’m just going to let bygones be bygones?”

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