The Killer Sex Game (A Frank Boff Mystery) (24 page)

Later that afternoon, after Dina called Cullen and told him her friend Hazuki was willing to work for Boff as a seducer, Cullen arranged to meet the two women at the
Brooklyn Museum. When he and Boff arrived, Dina was already sitting in the pavilion with a stunning Japanese woman who had long, black hair, dark eyes, full lips, and a skirt short enough to show off her perfect legs.

“Mr. Boff,” Dina said, “this is Hazuki.”

Hazuki stood up and extended her hand. “Very pleased to meet you.”

Dina said, “I’ll leave you guys alone. I’m going to the museum shop.
You wanna come, Danny?”

“I’d really like too, but I think I should stay here.”

“I understand. Next time.”

After she was gone, Hazuki cut right to the chase. “Mr. Boff, let’s talk about the money before we begin. Dina told me you’d pay me four hundred a day with a possible one thousand dollar bonus. I will want it all in cash. Today, I would like four hundred as a retainer. If you don’t have the cash on you, I’ll be happy to wait while you go to an ATM.”

Boff smiled. The woman was all business. Having anticipated that she would want a retainer, he pulled a roll of twenties out of his pocket and handed it to her.  Hazuki counted it as rapidly as a bank teller, then recounted it again before putting it in her purse.

“Do you have a picture of the target?” she asked.

Boff slid a photo that Manny had taken out of a manila envelope. It showed Emilio and Alicia getting out of the Town Car. Hazuki took her time studying it before speaking.

“Tell me everything you know about this man,” she said. “Starting with his name and where he works.”

“His name is Emilio Benvenuti. And I want you to know right up front that he’s the son of a powerful mobster, although he’s not involved with the family business. If you want to back out because of that, I would understand.”

Hazuki looked taken aback. “Back out? In
Japan, I once seduced a Yakuza boss. You know what Yakuza is, right?”

Boff nodded. “Japanese mafia.”

“So I can handle the son of an American mobster. No problem for Hazuki. Tell me what else I should know about the target. And please confine yourself to the essentials.”

While Boff was giving her the skinny on Emilio, he noted she had yet to show any emotion or charm. He wondered if she had the personality to get the job done. Then again, he told himself, looks like hers go a long way with men, most of whom judge women by their faces and bodies. Not their personalities.

When he was finished, Hazuki pointed at Alicia in the photo. “This woman is his girlfriend?”

“Yes.”

She studied the photo for another minute. “She’s very beautiful. Makes it harder for me. But my success rate in Japan was very high. I won’t disappoint you. You get what you pay for. Guaranteed by Hazuki.”

“Or my money back?”

Hazuki shook her head. “No. I keep the money either way. Sort of like you do in your line of work. If your client is not acquitted, you still get paid. Right?”

Boff smiled. “Correct. Although I might add that my success rate is over seventy percent.”

“Mine in Japan was higher.” She handed the photo back.

“You can keep it if you want,” Boff said.

Hazuki shook her head. “No. I shouldn’t have a picture of him. If he found out I did, it would scare him off. Everything in a proper seduction must be a surprise.”

“You haven’t asked me why I want you to seduce him.”

“Not Hazuki’s business. I do the job. You pay me. Then it’s over. I assume you have surveillance people.”

“Yes.”

“When do you want me to make initial contact?”

“I imagine tonight is too soon.”

“Yes. But if you add an extra hundred to my next payment, I’ll give it a try. Have your investigating team find out what kind of places he goes to.”

“I can tell you right now where he usually hangs out. A nightclub called Devil’s Own.”

“I have been there. I’ll go tonight. If he doesn’t show, I’ll go the next night and the next until he shows. At four hundred a day, you should hope he comes tonight. Although it wouldn’t matter to me if he didn’t.” Hazuki smiled for the first time. It transformed her whole face. She looked radiant.

“What if I called him,” Boff said, “and asked him to meet me at the club?”

She shook her head. “No. Do not do that, please. He must go there on his own in order for it to look like a chance meeting.”

This gal’s sharp
, Boff thought. With her looks and her brains, Emilio will be no match.

Hazuki turned when she saw Dina coming back carrying a brown bag with a couple of rolled-up prints sticking out of it. “We’re almost done, Dina” Hazuki said. She turned to Boff. “Besides Devil’s Own, have your team find out if he has a favorite restaurant or a coffee bar. I will also need a hidden camera I can keep with me.”

“Cigarette pack all right?” Boff said.

Hazuki glanced at Dina and smiled again.

“I see you did your homework, Mr. Boff. Good. I’m used to working only with the highest professionals.”

After shaking his hand again, Hazuki took off with Dina. He glanced down at his hand just to make sure it was still there. Then he laughed.
Good luck, Emilio. Hurricane Hazuki is about to hit the shore.

Like most streets in the city, West 10th had alternate-side parking. As soon as they hear the street cleaning truck rumbling down the street, car owners who are home rush out of their buildings, double-park across the street, and wait for the street sweeper to pass so they can join the mad scramble for a parking space. Emilio’s block was scheduled for a
four o’clock sweeping. Boff told Wallachi to join the line of double-parkers in Emilio’s block.

At three-fifteen, Boff left his apartment, hailed a cab, and reached Wallachi with time to spare. Manny had exchanged his spiffy suit for designer jeans and a black T-shirt with
Hilfiger
in bold vertical lettering down the left side.

“Where’s your bodyguard?” Wallachi asked.

“Danny has a workout from four-thirty to seven.”

After the sweeper had passed Emilio’s building, Wallachi cut off another car and got a prime spot only six doors away. The driver he had cut off pounded on his horn, then grabbed another space. After he parked, he got out of his car and headed for Wallachi’s Crown Vic. He was a short man in his fifties, his face contorted with road rage. When Wallachi, who was six-foot three and built like a tight end, stepped out of his car, the other driver stopped dead in his tracks.

The investigator flashed a wide smile. “Nice day, isn’t it, friend?” he said mildly.

Muttering “asshole” under his breath, the driver turned and walked away. As Wallachi climbed back into his Crown Vic, he looked back at Manny. “You wanna make a coffee run?”

“Not really, but I’ll do it.”

After receiving a twenty, the crack op stepped out of the car and headed for
6
th
Avenue.

“Pete,” Boff said, “did you tell Manny to dress down today?”

“Hell, no. If I did, he wouldn’t be a walking advertisement for Tommy Hilfiger.”

Fifteen minutes later Manny returned with three coffees and a brown bag filled with bagels.

“There was a bagel shop nearby,” he said.

Tommy Hilfiger handed Boff a poppy seed bagel, a tub of cream cheese, and a knife, then gave his boss a bagel with salt. After Boff loaded up his bagel with cream cheese, he handed the tub and the knife back to the crack op. To Boff’s surprise, Manny pulled a plain bagel out of the bag and slathered it with cream cheese.

“Not worried about you shirt and pants today?” Boff asked.

“More concerned about my stomach. I’m starving.”

They watched a taxi drop Emilio off at six-thirty. An hour and a half later, dressed casually, Emilio popped back out and hailed a cab. Wallachi followed the taxi to a restaurant called the Cafeteria on
7th Avenue near 17
th
Street in Chelsea. But the place didn’t look like any cafeteria Boff or Wallachi had ever been in. There were outdoor cafe tables with bright green awnings above them and a cloth fence along the sidewalk. The restaurant’s large, sliding garage doors were open to join inside and outside dining.

Emilio left the cab and walked into the restaurant through the front door.

“Manny,” Wallachi said, “you got your BlackBerry?”

“Always do.”

“Put your thumbs to work and find the menu for this so-called cafeteria.”

It took Manny a couple minutes. “Got it,” he said.

“What’s the range of prices for dinner entrees?”

“Uh, the cheapest is sixteen bucks. The highest is twenty-five.”

“What do you get for sixteen?”

Manny looked at his screen again. “Only one item. Meatloaf with garlic mashed potatoes, sautéed green beans, and oven-roasted tomato relish, whatever the hell that is. For twenty-five, you can get either grilled lamb chops or wild striped bass. With shaved artichokes, radicchio, and Reggiano Parmesan lemon truffle vinaigrette.” Manny looked up. “Shaved artichokes? I didn’t know artichokes shaved.”

“This’s some cafeteria,” Wallachi said, ignoring the attempt at a joke.

“Why are you interested in the menu?” Manny asked.

“What else do I have to do while I wait for this
paisan
to stuff his face?”

“Oh, shit,” Boff suddenly said. He pointed to a passenger getting out of a taxi. It was Alicia.

“Frank, if he takes her to Devil’s Own after dinner, we’ll have to call your friend Hazuki and tell her to stand down.”

Boff shook his head. “No, we won’t need to do that. She’s a professional. She’ll know.”

At ten o’clock, Emilio and Alicia finally left the restaurant. They were holding hands, and after a long kiss on the sidewalk, Emilio hailed a cab, opened the backdoor to let Alicia climb in. But when the taxi pulled away, he was still standing on the curb.

“Looks like we caught a break,” Wallachi said.

Boff nodded. “Now let’s hope we catch another and he goes to Devil’s Own. It’s not far from here, so there’s a good chance he might make a pit stop.”

Stepping into the street, Emilio grabbed another taxi. Wallachi followed it down
7
th
Avenue and onto 14
th
Street.

“Devil’s Own is on this street,” Boff said.

Going past 8
th
and 9
th
Avenues, the cab stopped in front of the club. Emilio left the taxi, shook hands with one of the guards out front, and disappeared inside.

After Wallachi had double parked behind a limo, Manny tapped Boff on the shoulder. “Is your call girl in place?” he asked. “Maybe you should phone her and find out.”

“She’ll be there. And I told you, she’s not a call girl. She’s a professional seducer.”

“Same thing, right?”

“No, it isn’t. If she goes to bed with Emilio at some point, she won’t charge him. That’s not prostitution. I paid her to
seduce
him.”

The crack op shrugged. “Well, she’s still getting money to pork some guy.”

Wallachi broke in. “Frank, how’s she planning on meeting him?”

“She didn’t say. I didn’t ask. The girl knows her stuff.”

As the night dragged on, and there was no sign of Emilio or Hazuki, Manny began complaining. “When’re they coming out? When the hell do you think something’s gonna happen?”

“They’ll come out when they come out,” Wallachi replied.

At
midnight, Emilio left Devil’s Own alone.

“Where’s the girl?” Manny asked. “Guess she struck out.”

“No, she didn’t,” Boff corrected him. “In Japan, professional seducers are trained not to leave with a guy on the first meeting. All they do is make first contact.”

Fifteen minutes later, Hazuki walked out the front door.

“There she is,” Boff said.

The crack op’s interest immediately perked up. “Wow! That’s
Playboy
centerfold material! What a body! If I were Emilio, no way would I leave the club without her.”

Boff had to admit that Hazuki did look pretty sizzling in a low-cut black dress that showed off all her curves and her world-class legs.

“Hey, Boff,” the crack op said, “how about I pay you to have her seduce me?”

Wallachi let out a sigh. “Shut up, Manny, or I’ll have you neutered.”

Boff had told Hazuki what Wallachi’s car looked like, so she made a beeline for it. Manny jumped out and held the backdoor open for her.

“Hi. I’m Manny.”

Not acknowledging him, she stepped into the back seat. Manny hustled around to the other side, slid in, then held up the bagel bag.

“You want a bagel, miss? We’ve got one left. And plenty of cream cheese, too.”

Hazuki didn’t even look at him.

Boff turned around to her. “How’d it go?” he asked.

“Very well, Mr. Boff.”

“Obviously you met him.”

Hazuki nodded. “Yes. He was walking by the bar, so I got up, pretended to stumble, and splashed some of my cosmopolitan onto his shirt sleeve. Then I apologized profusely and offered to pay his cleaning bill. He laughed and said it was no big deal. So I asked him if I could at least buy him a drink. He accepted.”

“What did you tell him about yourself?” Boff asked.

“The truth. That I’m a model and live with a female roommate.”

Manny chuckled. “I guess you left out the part about being a call girl.”

Hazuki shot him a frosty look before turning back to Boff. “The target asked me if I would have dinner with him tomorrow. I told him I couldn’t because I was booked for a night shoot with a big designer.”

“Are you?” Boff asked.

“No. But it’s not proper form for a seducer to seem too eager. We arranged to go out the night after tomorrow.”

“Were you surprised he asked you for a date?”

“Of course not. Why?”

“Well, he does have a beautiful girlfriend.”

“You obviously don’t know much about good-looking young men with lots of money,” she said. “He saw me, he wanted me. I was something to collect. In all the time I worked in Japan, I never had a man turn me down out of concern for a wife or a girlfriend.”

“Looking like you do,” Manny chimed in, “I can see why.”

Still no response. “Take me home now, please,” she said and told Wallachi her address. When he dropped her off at an eight-story pre-war building on West 88
th
Street, he waited until she was safely inside her building before pulling away.

“She’s a cold one, Frank,” Wallachi said.

“I bet I could warm her up,” Manny said.

Wallachi glanced in the rear view mirror and gave his crack op a sour look. “Manny, do you know why men give their penises names?”

“Not a clue.”

“Because they don’t want a complete stranger running their life.”

The crack op laughed. “That’s a good one.”

“What do you call yours?”

“Uh, do I have to tell?”

“If you want to keep your job, you do.”

“Wally One-Eye.”

Wallachi looked at Boff. They both cracked up.

“Where’d you get that name?” Boff asked.

“Uh, you know, the uh...hole you piss through and cum through.”

“Do me a favor,” Wallachi said, still laughing. “Keep Wally’s one eye shut for the rest of this surveillance job. Understood?”

“I’ll try, Pete. But I don’t always have control over him. It’s like he has a mind of his own.” Manny looked down at his crotch and wagged a finger at it. “From now on, Wally, you’re going to listen to me. Understood?” Looking up again, he leaned forward toward the front seat. “Pete, I’m not sure he got the message.”

“Slap him around a little. That’ll get his attention.”

“Yeah, and hurt me more than him.”

“That’s the point.”