The Killer Sex Game (A Frank Boff Mystery) (35 page)

“He’s got a vest on,” Damiano said.

Unbuttoning Boff’s shirt and removing it, the medic then unfastened the Kevlar, pulled it over his head, and examined the red welts forming on his chest.

“You’ve got three nasty bruises, pal,” he said. “But you’ll be all right. We’ll fly you to the hospital for X-rays just to make sure you didn’t bust a rib.”

Getting to his feet, Boff waved the medic off. “No need. I’ll be fine. I’ll just ice it and have a few glasses of Almaden Chablis with my lovely wife.”

The medic shrugged. “Your choice.”

Grinning, Damiano stepped up to Boff. “I guess you owe me some thanks,” she said.

“On the contrary,” he said. “It’s you who should thank me. I just got you on the front page of the tabloids and a likely promotion to detective sergeant. The only person I owe a debt of gratitude to is Stephanie Kwolek, inventor of Kevlar. And not to spoil your fifteen minutes of fame, but I hope you’re aware that every cop and prosecutor in the city is going to hate you for saving my life.
Victoria, you’ll be a pariah.”

All the detective could do was shake her head and laugh. “Man, you’re the most irritating person I’ve ever met.”

That brought a smile to his face. “Guilty as charged.”

“Just answer me something before you go,” she said. “You’ve never been one to take risks. Yet you made yourself a target for Emilio, which in turn put you under the gun with Bruno. Why’d you do it?”

“I guess I just wanted to make sure the job was done right. Without law enforcement screwing it up.”

“Even after I save your life, you still have no faith in us?”

As Boff shrugged, he had second thoughts about how close he’d come to dying. He hated to admit it, but without her help, he’d be dead. He shook his head as if to clear out all thoughts. He was tired and wanted to go home. Putting his shirt back on, he picked up the vest and started for the door. Before he opened it, however, he stopped and looked back.

“For what it’s worth, Damiano, you did real good.”

Then he disappeared through the door.

Jenny was so happy the case was over and her husband was alive, she broke out a bottle of Macon-Villages to celebrate and ordered Chinese food. She even let Steven have some wine. When the bottle was empty, she opened another. Boff and his wife kissed and hugged so much,
Steven looked disgusted. Pouring himself a second glass of wine, he walked unsteadily to his room and slammed the door shut behind him.

Although Boff’s chest hurt like hell, he and Jenny made love that night with the fervor of teenagers. As she lay quietly with her head on his arm, he lay still, staring at the ceiling. Reviewing the day’s events, he vowed never to put himself in that kind of position again.

Early the next morning, Baumgartner called.

When did you find out Bruno was still alive?

“When he pointed a gun at me. Otherwise, I would’ve called you earlier and let you arrest him.”

My ass, you would. You wanted Benvenuti dead.

Boff said nothing.

Well at least I should thank you for handing me Emilio. We’re going to have a nice splashy trial that’ll keep me on the front page for weeks. He’s going away for life.

“What about Judge Morant?”

We pressured his clerk and he flipped. Taking bribes will buy Morant a long stretch in the pen.

“If you can tie the judge to Marla’s murder, that’d be better.”

We’re working on it.

“I’ll have her address book sent over to you. So…are you going to run for D.A.?”

Yes, and I’m going to win. Bagging Emilio will be a big feather in my cap. And I’ll make sure the media know I had a big part in bringing Bruno down, too When I win the election, I’d love to have you work for me as lead investigator.

“Maybe in another lifetime.”

The assistant D.A. laughed.
I bet your mother won’t be too happy when she finds out you got rid of her bookie.

Boff grimaced. He hadn’t thought about that.

Are you going to find her a replacement?

“I’ll have to. Or I’ll never get off her shit list.”

What I’m told, one of Bruno’s
caporegime
has started his own family and is taking book. Tony Nicosia. Frank, you did not hear that from me.

“Thanks for the info.”

Just do me one favor. Get rid of the shotgun.

After breakfast, Boff left his apartment and drove to the gym. When McAlary saw him walk in, he called for a break and headed over, Cullen and Bellucci right behind him.

“Let’s go outside,” the trainer said.

They stood on the stairs for a minute, nobody saying anything until McAlary broke the silence. “I read about what happened on the roof of your building. I bet you were scared shitless.”

Boff shook his head. “Nope. I had faith in Damiano.”

Cullen said, “You want me to tell her that?”

“Not on your life.”

“Meanwhile,” the champ said, “I’ve got some news. I’m going to see Dina again tomorrow night. And Mikey’s gonna see Hazuki. We’re having a double date.”

Bellucci’s face beamed. “We’ve got the two best babes in town.”

“Thanks again to me,” Boff said. His attention was diverted when he heard the hammers start banging in the new health club McAlary was building above the gym.

“When’s the club going to be done?” he asked.

“In about a month,” McAlary said. “If you want, I’ll give you a free membership and be your personal trainer.”

Boff laughed. “No, thanks. I’ve watched the way you train. I’m not big on corporal punishment. But I do have someone I’d like you to work with. My son has turned into a boxing fanatic.” He looked at Cullen. “Since he saw your fight. He wants to quit basketball and become a fighter.”

Cullen looked surprised. “The last time Steven asked you to let him box in Las Vegas you turned him down pretty hard.”

“True. But that’s because his grades were bad at the time. He didn’t need another distraction. Now he’s doing better in school.”

Cullen shook his head. “I still can’t believe you actually
want
him to become a fighter.”

“I don’t
want
him to be a fighter. But he’s going to keep pestering me for permission until I let him. I figure the first time he gets the crap beaten out of him in the gym, he’ll go back to basketball. Where he belongs.”

Bellucci chimed in. “That’s what my grandfather thought when he brought me here. I did get my ass whipped. But I came back for more.”

McAlary tapped Boff on his arm. “I’ll be more than happy to train your son,” he said.

Boff laughed. “I’m sure you will. If you can’t put me through hell, I guess my kid will do as a surrogate.” He checked his watch. “Well, I’m off. I’ve got to see a priest.”

The trainer looked taken aback. “You’re going to
confession
?”

“What, are you nuts? I don’t have any sins to confess. The penguin’s my wife’s pastor. He’s been indicted for allegedly stealing from the church. Jenny wants me to defend him. Pro bono, no less.”

Cullen couldn’t help but laugh out loud. “Working for a priest is probably worse punishment than training with Ryan. Is the guy guilty?”

“Probably.”

“But you’ll get him off.”

Boff shrugged. “That’s what I do.”

“When you’re not hunting down killers,” Bellucci said.

Boff held up a hand like a traffic cop. “Those days are over, Mikey. As much as I love my wife, I won’t let her force me to do this again.”

“You wanna bet? I’ve got fifty bucks says you will.”

“Haven’t you learned anything from the last two times you made bets with me?”

“Yeah. You always win. So why not make an easy fifty?”

“Sorry. I’m not interested.”

“Because you know this is one bet you’re gonna lose.”

Without replying, Boff went down the stairs and headed for his car. He debated whether or not to use his bomb detector this morning…until he remembered what had happened the last time he didn’t. Even though this case was finally over, he turned on the detector. It was green.

Stepping into his car, he started the engine and drove off, thinking about what Bellucci had said. The kid was right, of course. His wife was the only person on earth—besides his mother—who could make him do something he didn’t want to.
But I’ve
solved three straight murders over the last year
, he said to himself.
Murders the cops couldn’t crack. I made them look like amateurs.

Opening his CD case, he thought about the hold his wife had on him and searched for an album appropriate to the moment.
Yeah
, he thought.
Frankie Lymon & the Teenagers
. As he slid the disc in, he turned the volume up high, and sang along with “Why Do Fools Fall in Love.”

This book was inspired by Frederick Boff

A novel is a team effort. I would like to thank my team members: Bobby and the remarkable Jessica Jones of Endless String Publishing; my editor, Barbara Ardinger, Ph.D.; William Trillo, who designed a killer book cover for me; and my son, Alex, who keeps me going.

Special thanks to the members of my support team who encourage and believe in me: Robert Johnstreet, Jenny L. Tucker, Dave D’Alessandro, Jochem Vandersteen, Deborah Margean Anderson, Winifred Golden, Annette Jones, and Rhiannon Ellis.