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IT’S ALREADY BEEN ARRANGED that Jimmy is coming for dinner. When he arrives, he offers to take Rip to the beach for a quick run. I give them both my blessing.

“It occurs to me that I’m turning into a professional dog walker,” he says when they return. “Or runner, in this case.”

“But just think how much Rip wuvs his Uncle Jimmy,” I say.

“Don’t push it,” he says.

He’s brought steaks from Schiavoni’s Market in Sag Harbor. I tell him, almost as an apology now that he’s gone to the trouble, that I’m really not that hungry. He says, “I don’t give a shit, you need to eat.” Then he tells me I can sit on the terrace and learn from the master while he grills.

“Do you ever worry at all about my cholesterol?” I ask.

“I’ll get to that when I’m no longer worrying about the other c thing,” he says.

When we’re outside and he’s working his magic on the grill, I tell him all about my encounter with Eric Jacobson, almost word for word. Jimmy agrees I should have just shot the kid and called it self-defense.

“You would have been making the world a better place,” Jimmy says. “And a safer one, especially for girls.”

“I did nearly run him over,” I say.

“ My girl,” Jimmy says.

When he announces that the meat is five minutes away from perfection, I go inside and slice up a tomato and some mozzarella and splash on some balsamic dressing.

Once we’re at the kitchen table, Jimmy keeps feeding Rip steak under the table even after being admonished not to.

“Dog doesn’t have to worry about cholesterol,” Jimmy says.

“Maybe he should.”

“Are you serious?” Jimmy says. “This is the first damn dog with nine lives.”

He’s drinking beer. I’m sticking with sparkling water tonight, taking no chances. With the first day of witnesses tomorrow, the last thing I need is my stomach giving me a middle-of-the-night wake-up call.

Jimmy takes a sip of beer and notices me smiling at him. “What?” he asks.

“Does it ever occur to you how much we sound like an old married couple?”

“Only because we are,” he says. “And the reason we’ve lasted this long is because we never ruined things with all the other—”

“Are you referring to sex, detective?”

“Hey,” he says, “can’t you see I’m eating here?”

When we finish, and I’ve eaten more than I expected to, he says that I should go sit down in the living room, he’ll clean up. When he joins me, he’s made himself a cup of coffee.

“You know what I think about sometimes?” I say. “A lot of the time, actually.”

“What’s that?”

“That I can’t go on winning forever.”

“Says who?”

Rip has settled in next to Jimmy, who’s absently reaching down and scratching him behind an ear.

“I talked to Norma,” he says. “She says you did good today, laying bricks on how the whole thing is a setup.”

“I’m hoping like hell that I did,” I say. “Because it’s pretty much all I got.”

I lean back and stare up at the ceiling.

“Who hates Rob Jacobson enough to kill three people as a way of setting him up, or maybe even six?” I ask.

“I’ve seen a lot of elaborate frames in my life,” he says. “But this one would win the blue ribbon.”

“Should we start our list of suspects with friends, or family?”

“Wait, I got one. How about Sonny Blum, the great and powerful Oz?”

“Rob says that Sonny still wants him alive,” I say.

“Does that mean alive and a free man, or locked up for the rest of his miserable life?”

“Maybe,” I add, “this whole case is just about Sonny getting tired of waiting for Hank Carson to pay what he owed, and having him popped?”

“And popping his whole family at the same time?”

“But then why set up Rob, and why wait this long to plant the gun?” I ask him.

I put my head back again and close my eyes.

“Goddamn them all,” I say softly. “And goddamn this case.”

Jimmy asks if I need him to walk Rip one last time. I tell him thanks, but I’ll do it, I could use the air.

“You sure you’re not too tired?” he asks.

“Stop treating me like an invalid.”

He grins. “I only do it because Uncle Jimmy wuvs you, too,” he says.