49
Cork parked on the drive that circled in front of Lou Jacoby’s Lake Forest estate home.
“I swear to God,” he said, killing the engine, “the North Shore has more castles than the Rhine.”
He’d tried to convince Jo not to come, but she’d insisted, telling him that now that they were together, she’d be damned if she’d let anything separate them.
Evers, Jacoby’s houseman, answered the bell. He looked tired but still maintained the rigid formality his position required.
“The O’Connors,” Cork said. “Mr. Jacoby is expecting us.”
Evers led them down a long hallway to the rear of the house, where a small, lovely woman with black hair and a Latin look awaited them. She seemed familiar, but Cork couldn’t recall where he’d seen her before.
“I’ll take it from here,” she said to Evers.
“Of course.” The houseman vanished back into the vast silence of the place.
“It is a pleasure to see you again,” she said to Jo. Then to Cork: “We have not met. I am Gabriella Jacoby, Eddie’s widow.”
She spoke a foreign accent he’d recently heard, and he realized where he’d seen her before. In the face of a pilot.
“Do you have a brother?”
“Yes.”
“Tony Salguero?”
“Do you know Antonio?”
“I’ve met him.”
“He is a good brother.” She smiled briefly, then lapsed into a somber tone. “I told Lou this was not a good idea, but he insisted. I warn you, he is out of his head with grief. He will probably say things that will sound crazy. You may leave now, and I will explain it to him.”
“If he wants to see me,” Cork said, “let him see me.”
She reached for the knob, hesitated as if she were going to speak again, perhaps argue the wisdom of proceeding, then she opened the door and stepped ahead of them inside.
The room was mostly dark and smelled of an old man and his cigars. The only illumination came through the slits of partially opened blinds over the long windows. In the far corner, bars of light like the rungs of a ladder fell across a stuffed chair and its occupant. Jo’s eyes climbed each rung until they encountered the red eyes of Lou Jacoby staring back. He wore a dressing gown that hung open over his chest, showing a white undershirt. His legs were bare, his feet slippered. His hair was a wild spray of white. He seemed smaller than the last time she’d seen him, as if Ben’s death had taken away something physical from his own form. He held a glass that contained ice and a hickory-colored liquid. A smoking cigar sat in a standing brass ashtray to his right.
“I knew you were trouble the moment I saw you with him.” The voice came from the darkness beneath his red eyes, from the mouth Jo still couldn’t quite make out.
“I’m sorry about your son,” she said.
For a moment, he didn’t reply. Then: “The sons should bury the father. That’s how it’s supposed to be.”
Gabriella crossed to him and stood at his side, her hand protectively on his shoulder. In the slatted light, her shadow fell over the old man and swallowed him.
“You wanted to see me,” Cork said.
“If I were a younger man, I’d stand up and beat you to death with my own hands.”
“I didn’t kill your son.”
“Lou has been told about the police investigation,” Gabriella said. “He knows about the gun they found. What they call a throw-down, I believe. They told him it is something policemen have been known to do to get away with murder.”
“Not this cop. Have you talked to Dina Willner?”
“She has been mysteriously silent to our inquiries,” Gabriella replied.
“It’s not enough you kill my son,” Jacoby spat out. “You slander my grandson, too, with your lies.”
“I understand your grief,” Cork said. “But don’t let it blind you to the truth.”
With difficulty, Jacoby rose from his chair. “I’m not a man of idle threats. An eye for an eye. You hear me?”
“Mercy,” Jo said, speaking softly into the dark of the room. “It falls like the gentle rain from heaven, Mr. Jacoby.”
“Not in this house, woman.” He said to Gabriella, “Get them out.”
Gabriella came forward and placed herself between the O’Connors and the old man. “It’s time for you to go.”
“We’ve done nothing to you,” Jo said.
“You’ve done everything short of killing me. Get out.”
Jo turned away, then Cork. Gabriella followed them out and led them toward the front door.
“I warned you,” she said.
“Have you even tried to help him understand?” Cork said.
“You saw him. When he’s ready to listen to reason, I will reason.”
As they neared the door, they saw Evers blocking the way, arguing with someone standing just outside.
“What is it?” Gabriella said.
Evers stepped aside, and Jo saw Rae Bly framed in the doorway.
“I was trying to explain that I have my instructions.”
“To keep me out?” Rae’s voice was a sharp blade of indignation. “I don’t believe it.”
“That’s all right. I will take care of it,” Gabriella said.
Evers stepped back, turned, and walked away, stiff as a zombie.
Gabriella addressed her sister-in-law. “It is true. He does not want to see you.”
“Does he even know I’m here?”
“I told him that you called. He won’t see you. If you try to talk to him now, you will only be hurt by him. When he is ready, I will let you know.”
“I’m his daughter, Gabby.”
“As am I now. And we must think of him. Later he will see you. It will be all right, I promise, pobrecito. Now, good day to you all.”
Cork and Jo stepped outside.
Rae stared at the door that had closed against her. She wilted and then she wept. “Ben, Ben. Oh, Benny.”
Jo put her arms around her. After a minute, Rae pulled herself together.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“That’s all right.”
“I didn’t get all the details, but enough to say I’m sorry for what happened to you, Jo. It’s shameful, but that’s the Jacobys. Did Lou see you?”
“Only long enough to threaten us,” Jo said.
“Don’t take him lightly.”
“This is Cork, my husband.”
“I figured.”
“Rae is Ben’s sister.”
“I was sure he’d see me. We’re all we have now, each other.”
“Apparently, he thinks he has Gabriella, too,” Cork said.
“Will you be all right?” Jo asked.
“No, but that’s not your concern. You have your own problems. And the Jacobys,” she said bitterly, “we take
