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Like I’ve finally beaten the odds.
At least for now.
“I believed him when he told me he’d killed you,” I say to Jimmy Cunniff. “Turns out we’re both hard to kill.”
“Us and Dr. Ben,” Jimmy says. “Champi turned out to be as lousy a shot with him as he was with me that night at my house.”
“And from nearly point-blank range.”
“The doc got lucky.”
“We all did,” I say.
We are in Jimmy’s car, driving west on Route 27. We have been talking about how Champi’s bullet grazed Dr. Ben on the side of his head, just above his ear.
A couple of inches the other way, it would have been Dr. Ben who took one right between the eyes.
“This is a bad idea, what we’re about to do here,” Jimmy says.
“You said that already.”
Before I can say anything else, he holds up a hand. “No, check that. This is as bad an idea as the last time you made this ride.”
“At least I’m armed with more than an air pistol.”
When Rob Jacobson opens his front door, he doesn’t seem surprised to see us.
Just annoyed.
“I’ve got nothing to say to either one of you,” Jacobson says.
He starts to shut the door. Jimmy holds it open.
Jimmy says, “Step aside or I will happily knock you on your ass.”
Jacobson hesitates, but only briefly, before doing as he’s just been told.
“You caught your killer last night,” Jacobson says. “Catch and kill, right? Isn’t that what they always say?”
“So you want us to believe it was Joe Champi who killed everybody?”
“Believe what you want to,” Jacobson says.
“What if I think you’re the one who was killing people from here to the city?” Jimmy says.
“Well, then prove it. I’m telling you, it was Champi. From the time I was a kid, he was the one calling the shots. Like, real shots.”
“Not what you said the other night,” I say. “You reminded him he worked for you when you wanted to shut him up.”
Jacobson smiles, one last time. “What can I tell you, Jane? I lied.”
“But wait,” Jimmy says. “Wouldn’t that make you an accessory after the fact?”
Jimmy is clearly enjoying himself. And I have to admit, so am I.
“You know what they say,” Jacobson says to him. “Dead men tell no tales.”
“You sure about that?” I say to Jacobson.
