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“Well, shit, that’s a mystery, isn’t it?”
Jimmy is reviewing his options, brain racing with them. None are any good. If he even twitches now, he’s certain the guy will pull the trigger. McCall’s gone, he’s gone, see ya, like the Yankees announcer says when somebody hits a home run.
“You kill McCall? Seriously? A goddamn district attorney?”
The guy ignores him. From where the sound of his voice is coming, he’s bigger than Jimmy. Maybe by a lot. Jimmy can smell cigarettes on him.
“I’ll tell you what I told McCall when it was him and me chatting in this same room. You need to leave this Carson thing alone.”
“What did McCall say to that?”
“He said that wasn’t going to happen. But you know what our parents used to say, Jimmy. Actions have consequences.”
“What if I’m the one saying it’s not going to happen?”
He feels himself starting to sweat, even in the air-conditioning. Can hear his own shallow breathing. Trying to stay calm. But feeling his heart working its way to heart-attack speed.
I should have taken my gun out, first thing.
Too late with that, too.
The guy presses the gun harder against Jimmy’s neck.
Even if I drop to the ground, I’ll never get to my gun in time.
Keep him talking.
Old cop rule.
“That’s not even conversation, Jimmy. Because here is the situation you now are in. Youdoleave this alone, or I kill you, and then drive straight out to Amagansett and kill her, too.”
He pauses. Presses the gun again.
“Totally your call. But like I say, you have now been warned.”
Then Jimmy feels the needle jabbing into his neck, right next to where the gun is.
“Wait for it,” the guy says.
Thirty-Eight
FOR THE PAST FEW DAYS,the disappearance of a local DA has managed to knock Rob Jacobson’s trial off the front pages and push it back on the six o’clock news. Jimmy keeps telling me that Gregg McCall hasn’t just disappeared, that he’s gone, and that all the headlines in the world aren’t going to bring him back.
The trial plods along as Ahearn’s case winds down. All week there has been no real drama in court, no punches landed from either side of the aisle, no bombshells. So today is the day when I finally decide to talk to the media about Gregg McCall, even though Jimmy has begged me not to do it, and to stay the hell away from it, because he doesn’t want the guy who said he was an ex-cop at McCall’s house coming for me next.
I thank my partner for sharing, and then do exactly what I want to do, pretty much like always.
So when court is adjourned this Friday, at five o’clock sharp, I stand on the courthouse steps and tell the assembled media that Gregg McCall is one of the best people I have ever met, one of the most professional, one of the most decent and honorable. And that even though we made no announcement about it, Jimmy Cunniff and I have been working with McCall on the murder of the Carson family, at what was his request.
“So, Jane, you believe that Mr. McCall’s disappearance is somehow linked to the Carson case?” a voice calls out when I throw it open to questions.
“Absolutely.”
No jokes today, no snark, none of the old razzle-dazzle.
“Are you and Jimmy Cunniff going to continue to investigate?”
“Absolutely.”
