“And Mary, and Joseph, too,” Jimmy says.
He takes his phone back and stuffs it in the side pocket of his jacket.
“For the last time,” Jimmy says. “You’re sure you didn’t talk about Sonny with anybody?”
He sees McGoey’s eyes get big again, just like that, but not because he’s afraid he’s about to be hit.
“Wait, there is just one,” he says. “But I just assumed he already knew.”
FIFTY
I AM SITTING ON a bench in Amagansett Square with Rob Jacobson on Sunday morning, the day before the trial.
Technically, Amagansett Square is outside the perimeter allowed by his ankle bracelet, though tomorrow that perimeter will be expanded to include the courthouse in Mineola.
The dispensation I’ve gotten from his probation officer includes my promise—one officer of the court to another—to shoot my client if on the walk into town he tries to make a run for it.
“I assume you’re joking,” I was told by the probation officer.
“Ammmmm I?” I’d said in a singsong way.
Jacobson and I have both gotten iced coffees from Jack’s. I set mine down now in the grass in front of the bench.
“I’ve asked you on a number of occasions if you know Sonny Blum by something other than his truly shitty reputation,” I say. “And you have told me, every single time, that you do not.”
I get The Smirk now.
“Does anybody really know anybody else?” he asks.
“Rob,” I say, “here’s some free legal advice for a change: Please don’t fuck with me today.”
“No chance,” he says, “not after the way you turned me down yesterday.”
“Sigh,” I say.
“Come on, that was funny.”
I ignore him.
“McGoey told you that I plan to go after Blum,” I say. “And a few hours later, one of Blum’s people sends me a death threat through Jimmy.”
“Wait, listen to me—”
“No,youlisten,” I say, cutting him off. “The only way Blum knows is if you went and told him. Which means you’ve been lying to me about him all along.”
“I didn’t tell him personally,okay?” he says. “I just spoke to someone who can get a message to him.”
“And why would you even consider doing something like that?”
“Because we’ve had a deal, for a long time,” he says. “Sonny and me. And the deal is that when I come across something that could hurt him, I tell him. It’s that simple.”
“Who’s the person you told?”
“It doesn’t matter,” he says. “All the way back to when my father was the one dealing with him, Sonny has wanted to be informed if I learn that his interests might be … compromised.”
“He owned a piece of your father, is that what you’re telling me?”
“Yes,” he says, staring across the wide expanse of lawn.
