“They wouldn’t give him bail. He’s inside for over a year. His wife comes to see him only once in all that time, mainly to say, ‘a shanda far die goyim,’ and ‘How do I access the money?’ And that’s it. Never, ‘I believe in you,’ ‘I’ll be here when you get out.’ The kids don’t come. Nobody comes.

“I keep working the case. It’s twenty years old. There’s enough this and that to fill a legal encyclopedia with reasons for doubt. At last, he gets off. He gets out of prison.

“Meantime, I’ve racked up a whole lot more hours than I’ve been paid for. He owes me a bit more than $24,000. He says he’s going to pay, but the stress and whatever has left him with high blood pressure and heart problems. In addition to me, he’s got legal bills, and he’s paying to not live at home because he’s so angry at the wife and she’s so angry at him.

“Sixteen months after he’s released, he keels over and dies. Still owing me most of it.

“Come probate, I’m there because I figure I have some sort of claim. The lawyer’s reading out the will and it says, ‘To Tony Cassella, he stood by me when my own family wouldn’t. They should go to hell. He should go to my beautiful piece of property near Woodstock, New York, which is closer to heaven than anyplace I’m likely to go now that I’m gone. Therefore, I leave it to him. Along with money for any taxes and fees attached to the transfer.’ ”

“Hey, that must feel good, really good,” Kenny said. “Saving an innocent man. Even if he only had a short time of freedom afterward.”

I barked or sighed or laughed or something. “Innocent? Nah. He not only did that one, he did at least two more.”

Kenny looked at me. More confused and appalled than a lawyer should be.

“That’s what we do, counselor, that’s what we do.”

He took a breath. He centered himself. Patted his thinning hair down, where he had some, along the sides. “Let me ask you a question,” he said.

“Sure.”

“Are you going to be able to make the coming months? And pay regularly after that?”

“Chissà.” He didn’t know the word. “Who knows.”

“If you don’t make it, they’re right back at you. Here’s what I recommend. I can stretch this out. I can make it take another three months, six months, even a year. If you can’t afford me, I’ll tell you the moves you should make to do it yourself. That will give you time to sell your place for a good price.”

“No,” I said. “I don’t know. I don’t want to give it up.”