Fifty-Two Jimmy

FIFTY-TWO

Jimmy

JANE IS ON HER way to Mineola for the hearing in which she'll ask Judge Kane to move up the trial date. She hasn't told the East Hampton cops the identity of her intruder, only that he ran off when he heard the alarms and thanked the cops for their service.

Jimmy knocks on the door of Rob Jacobson's rental house in Amagansett.

A tall girl wearing a St. John's sweatshirt that barely covers anything south of the equator answers.

"Who are you?" she asks.

"The truant officer," Jimmy says. "Where is he?"

"Still in bed. Where I should be, by the way. But he made me come answer the stupid door."

"Tough shit. Go get him. Unless you want me to call your parents."

She gives him the finger over her shoulder as she heads up the stairs.

Jacobson comes walking down a couple of minutes later, wearing a white T-shirt with a penguin on the front and tennis shorts. Jimmy hasn't seen an ankle bracelet in a while. It's bigger than he remembers, or maybe it's just Jacobson's skinny chicken legs. If he still had the tennis court at his old house, the thing would probably hamper the shit out of him rushing the net.

"All I have to say to you," Rob Jacobson says, "is that I got nothing to say to you."

But being Jacobson, he has to add, "I did hear you had some car trouble?"

"And where would you hear something like that?"

"A friend."

"Wait," Jimmy says. "You still have friends?"

"You just met one of them."

"You mean illegally blond?"

"I've got an idea," Jacobson says. "You got anything else you want to ask me, talk to my lawyer."

He turns around, like he's on his way back upstairs, when Jimmy grabs him by the shoulder and spins him around, feeling the immediate spasm of pain through his rib cage, but not caring because spinning this guy makes the pain well worth it.

He raises his hand just slightly, so he now has Jacobson by the neck. As he does, he hears the girl in the sweatshirt make a chew-toy squeak from the top of the stairs.

"This is not the day for you to annoy me more than you already have, for too many reasons to list," Jimmy says, his mouth close to Jacobson's ear.

"I have pointed this out before, but I can fire you," Jacobson says, through clenched teeth. "You know that, right?"

"And I've pointed out to you that you fire one of us, you fire both of us," Jimmy says as he lets go. "Now let's go sit in the living room without me having to pull you in there by your ear."

Jimmy can hear the girl walking around upstairs. Jacobson takes the couch. Jimmy lowers himself down, carefully, into a wicker chair.

"Okay, what's got your hair on fire this time?" Jacobson asks.

"Your son broke into Jane's house last night and threatened her."

Jimmy sees genuine surprise on Jacobson's face, even knowing how little is genuine with this bastard, other than maybe the fear he showed Jane after he'd gotten shot at.

"Wait… Eric was at Jane's?"

"In her bedroom. In the middle of the night."

"What the hell for?"

"He told her to quit your case. Told her that he couldn't let dear old dad get away with murder twice in the same lifetime."

Jacobson sadly shakes his head. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but he may be even more of a loser than I thought. And still dumber than cement."

"Jane found him pretty persuasive when he was talking shit about you, and what he says you're capable of."

"Rotten apple doesn't fall far from the tree. Eric could always fake sincerity even better than I do."

Before Jimmy can respond, he sees a familiar sneer. "Broke in, huh? At least the kid is still good at something besides riding the waves."

Jacobson yells up to the girl. "Bethany, come down here and get me some coffee."

"Get it yourself," they both hear from upstairs. "I'm walking to the beach."

Jacobson shrugs. "Kids today."

"Why didn't you tell me your kid 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."