“You’re a lot tougher when you’ve got a gun in your hand,” Eric Jacobson says.
“You know, Junior, you’re right,” I say. “But there are occasions when I don’t need one.”
“Like when I’m the one with the gun in his hand,” Jimmy Cunniff says from behind them.
ONE HUNDRED
“SO JIMMY SNUCK IN behind them with a gun?” Thomas McGoey says.
He has driven over from Quogue to talk about the beginning of our case tomorrow. Really, he wants to know how I’m going after Sonny Blum, our first witness.
But he also wants to know about the scene at the Carson house on Friday afternoon with Eric Jacobson and Edmund McKenzie.
“It was a very Jimmy thing to do,” I tell McGoey.
McGoey is shaking his head. “And I thought I was badass,” he says. “I’m not even in the same league as the two of you.”
“Eric tried to act cool about the whole thing,” I say. “He said to Jimmy, ‘You know you’re not going to shoot us.’ And Jimmy said, ‘Don’t tempt me,’ and told them to get lost.”
“They followed you and he followed them?” McGoey says.
“He was in his car in the parking lot and saw them pull out after me,” I say. “But then he likes to say how sometimes being a good investigator just means hanging around and waiting for something interesting to develop.”
“And they just left?”
“They did,” I say. “But Jimmy yelled after them that he’d see them real soon.”
“You think he can find them if we want to call them?”
I say, “It will be a lot less difficult now that he planted a tracking device on McKenzie’s car, over the right front tire.”
McGoey is shaking his head again, admiringly. “Badass.”
I have been feeling punk all weekend. But I power through our meeting. Before McGoey leaves he says, “You’ve got to make sure that you don’t make it look like elder abuse with our friend Sonny.”
“He’s a killer,” I say.
“But he’s not on trial,” McGoey says.
“You sure about that?” I say innocently.
When he’s gone, I am feeling well enough to take Rip to the beach, knowing I first have to make a stop at Rob Jacobson’s house, where he wants to take one more swing at changing my mind about putting Sonny Blum on the stand. And about something else.
“For the last time, put me on the stand,” he says when I get there.
“For the last time, no,” I say.
“I can win over the babes on the jury,” he says.
“Keep telling yourself that,” I say. “Now let’s change the subject.”
“Sonny is blaming me for this,” Rob says.
“Good to know that the two of you are staying in touch.”
“I told Sonny I didn’t think I could change your mind.”
“My sincerest apologies.”
