Cork looked at the clock on the stand beside the bed. 1:15 P.M. More than three hours before his appointment with Faith Gray. He decided to lie down for a while, close his eyes, nap if he could. He set the alarm for four and stretched out on the bed.
An instant later, the telephone woke him. Cork rolled over, groped around on the nightstand.
It was Boomer on the line.
“You hit the jackpot, buddy.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Those Jacobys you’re interested in.”
“You have something already? I just called.”
“Four hours ago.”
Cork looked at the clock. It was ten after five. “What have you got?”
“I called Adam Gabriel. Remember him?”
“Sure. Nice guy, worked out of Central, last I heard.”
“He’s in the north burbs now, with Highland Park. Currently assigned to work with NORTAF.”
“Never heard of it.”
“Northern Illinois Major Crimes Task Force. Provides investigators for a number of northern communities. Gabriel says Eddie’s pretty well known to the local constabulary, although if you talk to them, they’ll swear his record is clean. He’s never been formally charged with anything, and the feeling Gabriel has is that it took a lot of family money to keep him out of trouble. Fat envelopes under the table to a badge in the right position. You know how that goes. Appears to be a family tradition with these Jacobys.”
“How so?”
“American branch began in the late teens. Guy name of Albert Jacoby comes over from somewhere in Europe, ends up in Chicago, associated with Jake Guzik.”
“Greasy Thumb Guzik? Capone’s financial wizard?”
“The same. He never gets his hands soiled with the dirty work because he’s got a knack for handling finances. And not just for Capone. Made a lot of money for the mobsters, and made himself rich in the process. His only son, Lou, continues the family business but distances himself from the underworld, or so it appears. Does millions in legit transactions, but a lot of people in the know think he never completely severed those early, dirty ties. You know how it is. Even if a rat dresses in Armani, the stink of the sewer is still all over him. Cork, these Jacobys reek.”
“What about his son Ben?”
“I don’t get the sense of the old man’s ruthlessness, but they’re in business together and I can’t believe he’s not complicit. Does the apple ever fall far from the tree, buddy?”
“Any active investigations?”
“There have been from time to time but nothing at the moment, according to Gabriel.”
“Good work, Boomer.”
“All in knowing who to ask.”
“There’s someone else I want you to check on.”
“Your dime.”
“A security consultant out of Chicago. Her name’s Dina Willner.”
The sound at the other end may have been a cough or a quick, harsh laugh, or just a catch in Boomer’s gravelly voice. Then he said, “What’s Willner got to do with this?”
“The Jacobys brought her in to be sure Tamarack County’s bumbling law enforcement didn’t blow the investigation into Eddie’s murder. You sound like you know her.”
“Oh, yeah. I know Dina.”
“So tell me.”
“I’ll tell you what’s official, then I’ll tell you what I think, what a lot of us security consultants think.
“She’s good. And expensive. A thoroughbred background as far as law enforcement goes. Great record with the Bureau. Her client list probably reads like a who’s who of Chicago’s richest and most powerful families. Does very personal business for them.”
“ Personal meaning?”
“Now we get into speculation. You had a chance to observe her in action?”
“I have.”
“Note anything unusual?”
“Like what?”
“That she could probably hold her own against a platoon of Navy SEALs.”
“I’ve seen enough to be glad she’s on our side.”
“Is she?”
“Cut to the chase, Boomer.”
“A lot of us in the business don’t even carry a piece. Word is, Dina Willner travels with an arsenal. I’m saying that consulting is a delicate word for what Dina does.”
“Which is?”
“Among other things, she’s probably not above doing a hit.”
“You know that for a fact?”
“I told you, speculation. She’s good, she’s discreet, and she works for only the best-positioned people, so she’s also protected. Ask a cop, and she’s clean as a whistle. Ask me, I’d say watch your back.”
“She saved my life, Boomer.”
“Bully for you. I don’t know what happened, but if I were you, I’d take a good look at the circumstance, make sure that it is what it seems.”
“You’ve been a big help, buddy.”
“Bill’s already in the mail. You need anything else, just holler.”
Cork swung his legs off the bed and stood up. He walked to the window. It was late afternoon. He’d missed his appointment with Faith Gray. That meant a mandatory suspension until Faith agreed to recommend he be permitted to resume his duties as sheriff, and in the meantime Ed Larson would be in charge of the department. Cork knew he’d fucked up, fucked up pretty major, but he had other concerns on his mind. So when, a few minutes later, he received a call from Larson informing him that, in accordance with departmental regulations, he had been relieved of duty pending psychological evaluation and a recommendation for reinstatement, he was not alarmed.
“Faith said she’d be willing to work you in tomorrow, Cork. Considering the circumstances, she’s been very understanding, but her hands are tied. It’s the regs.”
“I know, Ed. I’m okay with it.”
“Well, hell, there’s nothing to be done about it now. You might as well go back to sleep,” Larson advised. “Let me know what you arrange with Faith.”
“Anything new on the Jacoby murder?”
“Nothing so far.”
When he hung up, Cork had no intention of going back to sleep. He paced his room for a few minutes, going over questions in his mind. Then he reached for the phone.
“Dina? It’s Cork O’Connor.”
“I thought you were out for the count.”
She sounded a little groggy herself, as if he’d awakened her.
“I napped some. Got my second wind. Thought if you were still interested, I’d love to buy you that drink and steak I promised.”
“When?”
“Say, six-thirty? I’ll meet you in the bar there at the Quetico Inn.”
“It’s a date.” She sounded awake, and she sounded pleased.
44
