The Killer Sex Game (A Frank Boff Mystery) (8 page)

After dropping the boxers back at the gym, Boff drove to Giancarlo’s, the Italian restaurant a half block from the Kings County Courthouse that Shaw had directed him to. Since Mantilla was Cuban, Boff assumed the previous owner had been Italian. Mantilla had undoubtedly kept the name because he didn’t want to mess with a winning formula. The menu in the front window, however, included a small list of Cuban specialties.

Boff walked inside and waited at the hostess’s station. The restaurant was crowded, the air fragrant with garlic, the conversation lively. He noticed that many of the waiters were in their forties and fifties. Some were older. No doubt these were holdovers from the previous ownership. Waiters who knew regular patrons by their first names.

A very attractive young woman walked up to him with a menu.

“Hi, I’m Daysi.”

“Daysi, My name is Frank Boff. I called earlier to set up a meeting with Mr. Mantilla.”

“Yes. I’ll get him for you.”

As Daysi walked across the dining room and disappeared through a door in the back, Boff continued to survey the restaurant. He recognized a couple lawyers he had worked for and nodded to them. Then a deputy police chief he had once locked horns with shot him a look that wasn’t pleasant.

When Daysi returned, she was accompanied by a slender man in his thirties who had a gaunt face and slicked-back dark hair.

“Mr. Boff, I’m Alberto Mantilla. Let’s take a table.”

Mantilla was dressed
Caribbean style, with a three-button linen sports blazer, a palm tree print shirt, and linen drawstring pants. He led Boff to a small table near the back where there were fewer people eating and it was quieter.

“Are you hungry?” Mantilla said as they sat down.

“Always am.”

“What would you like?”

“A bowl of soup and some coffee would hit the spot.”

Mantilla waved over a silver-haired waitress. “Karin, would you please bring us two bowls of
ajiaco
, a seltzer with lime, and a coffee.”

“Cream, no sugar,” Boff added.

“And, Karin, I’ll take my soup with Sudden Death.”

The woman scurried off with their order.

“What’s Sudden Death?” Boff asked.

“It’s a hot sauce with haba
nero pods, cayenne chilies, pure pepper resin, clover honey, key lime juice, and Siberian ginseng.”

“Whoa! That sounds lethal. I’ll stick with salt and pepper.”

“You haven’t asked me what
ajiaco
soup is,” Mantilla said.

Boff shrugged. “When an owner orders something, I know it’s going to be good.”

“Well, just so you know, it’s a Cuban soup made with beef, pork, and tropical vegetables.”

“I can’t wait to try it.”

After the waitress brought coffee for Boff and a seltzer for Mantilla, Boff said, “Gary Shaw told me you helped Rafael defect.”

“Yes. What a senseless tragedy. Rafael was a good friend and a sensational boxer. An artist in the ring.”

“So I’m told.”

“I’m curious about something, Mr. Boff. The police are investigating his murder. Why did you get involved?”

“The boxer’s trainer, Ryan McAlary, asked me to. Ryan shares my lack of enthusiasm for the investigative powers of the police.”

Mantilla smiled at that. “So do you have any leads?”

“Well, I think it’s possible the boxer was killed because of some trouble he’d gotten into.”

The restaurant owner looked surprised. “Really? What kind?”

“Women kind.”

“That can’t be,” Mantilla said. “Rafael was a devoted husband and father.”

“I’m sure he was. To an extent. But he also apparently led something of a night life.
Without
his wife.”

Mantilla frowned. “If he did, I didn’t know about it. But then, my job doesn’t leave me much time for socializing.”

The restaurant owner looked away from Boff as two gray-haired men in suits approached the table.

“Exquisite food, Alberto
,” one of them said. “The
ropa vieja
was excellent.”

Mantilla smiled. “I’m glad you liked it, Judge Morant. What about you, Judge Stein?”

“I had the same and loved it. You’ve converted me. Now I’m a fan of Cuban cuisine.”

“That’s good to hear.” Mantilla pointed at his table guest. “This is Frank Boff. He’s a private investigator looking into the murder of my boxer friend, Rafael Oquendo.”

The judge named Morant turned to Boff with a frosty look. “I believe I’ve heard your name,” he said. “Have you ever been in my court?”

Boff smiled cordially. “I can’t say as I’ve had the pleasure.”

Morant’s gaze lingered on Boff another moment before he turned back to Mantilla. “Alberto, we just wanted to say hello before we leave.”

“I’m glad you did.”

After the judges had left, Karin returned with the two bowls of soup and a bottle labeled Sudden Death. Mantilla shook some of the hot sauce on his soup, while Boff just put a little salt and pepper on his. Mantilla watched Boff as he spooned in a mouthful of the
ajiaco
.

“Well, Mr. Boff, how’s the soup?”

“Delicious.” He slurped in another mouthful.

After sipping his own soup, Mantilla said, “Is fire coming out my ears?”

“Just a little smoke. Anyway, I was wondering if, or how much, Rafael confided in you.”

“I wouldn’t say confided in the strict sense of the word. But he did call from time to time for advice about investing his money. I come from a banking family, and while my father and I are estranged right now, I worked for a couple years in the family bank. I also studied finance in college.”

“Did he come in here to eat?”

“Occasionally. But only with his wife.”

Mantilla’s phone rang. He took it out of his pocket, looked at the caller ID, and frowned. “I apologize for the interruption, Mr. Boff, but I have to take this.” He lowered his voice as he spoke into the phone. “What is it
now
, Alicia? This is the third time you’ve called me today … That’s ridiculous. You know how loyal I am to you … Look, I’m in a business meeting. I’ll call you back.”

He hung up and let out a sigh. “In addition to Sudden Death, I also have a weakness for hot-headed women. Alicia has a bigger bite than the hot sauce.” He paused, then leaned forward toward Boff. “What I’m about to tell you does not get back to Rafael’s wife, right?”

“You have my word.”

“Well, I haven’t been quite candid with you. Once I was shopping in a jewelry store in Park Slope for a present to give Alicia. Rafael walked in holding hands with a very beautiful woman. He looked embarrassed to see me. He said hello, but he didn’t introduce me to the woman. They left the store without even shopping.” Mantilla leaned back. “I never asked him who the woman was. And he didn’t say anything the next time I saw him. The reason I didn’t mention this to you at first was because I wanted to protect Rafael. Which I now realize is silly. He’s dead. You need information to help find his killer. I apologize.”

“No problem. I understand completely.”

After asking Mantilla a few more questions, Boff finished his soup and stood up.

“Thanks for your time and the delicious soup.”

“Where can I reach you if I think of something else?”

He gave Mantilla his business card.

“I have many friends in the legal system,” Mantilla said. “If you need any information of that nature, I can get it for you. Call me any time.”

As she had done many times, Marla stepped out of her taxi a block from Cullen’s building. She didn’t relish walking on a dark street, but she had to keep up the illusion for Danny that she took the subway and couldn’t afford a cab from
Columbia.

She hadn’t seen him for four nights and was eager to be with him now. As she approached the alley where the beggar had been the last time, she saw a different man. He didn’t look all that scraggly, but he was jingling a cup. Marla dropped four quarters in his cup, but when she set her backpack down to get a sandwich for him, she suddenly felt a strong arm curled around her neck and choking off her air. A gun was pressed to her head.

“Don’t make a sound!”

She nodded that she understood. After the assailant took a quick look around to see if anyone was watching, he dragged her all the way to the end of the alley, where he threw her down on her back.

Gasping for air after the choke hold, she implored, “Do what you want, but please don’t hurt me.”

In reply, the man tore off her button-down blouse in one swipe, then unzipped her dungarees and yanked them down. As he ripped off her panties, she closed her eyes and tried to pretend she was just on another job and everything was going to be okay.

At the same time, a white and blue patrol car with two cops in the front seat happened to be a block away. As it approached the alley, the cops heard
a gunshot. The driver floored the gas pedal. Reaching the alley seconds later, both officers sprang from the car, guns drawn. At the end of the alley they saw a man with a pistol standing over a woman’s naked body.

“POLICE! FREEZE!”

Instead of freezing, the assailant fired off two quick shots at the cops, then darted toward a wire fence at the end of the alley and started to scramble up it. But before he could reach the top and boost himself over, the cops fired back at him, nailing him several times in the back. The gunman fell off the fence, landed on his back, and didn’t move.

Sprinting down the alley with their guns still raised, they rushed up to the gunman’s bullet-riddled body. One cop knelt to feel his neck for pulse.

“DOA.”

“So is she.”

There was no need to take Marla’s pulse. She had a bullet hole in her forehead.

The cops radioed it in.

More than a little worried by now, Cullen was staring out the living room window hoping to see Marla walking up the street.

“Mikey, she’s never been this late before.”

“Maybe she forgot you were supposed to get together tonight.”

Suddenly, they heard sirens coming from all directions. Cullen’s heart started racing. When two police cars blew past his window, he dashed out the apartment door, Bellucci on his heels, took the stairs two at a time, and flew out the front door. Both of them stopped on the stoop and looked down the street toward where the cop cars had stopped. More cars were arriving.

Cullen and Bellucci sprinted toward the cops. As they got closer, they saw police going in and out of the alley. Yellow tape had already been strung around the perimeter.

A cop who saw them running in his direction placed a hand on the handle of his holstered gun and kept it there. Paying no attention, Cullen tried to duck under the tape, but the officer shoved him back.

“Nobody gets inside!”

Cullen wasn’t to be deterred. “Tell me what happened!”

The cop shook his head. “No can do, pal.”

Cullen looked like he was ready to haul off on the cop, so Bellucci put a restraining hand on his shoulder. Cullen shook him off.

“My girlfriend is missing!” he said. “I need to know if something happened to her.”

At that moment, he spotted Damiano stepping out of her car. As she approached the alley, he shouted: “Damiano!”

Seeing Cullen and Bellucci, she walked over to them.

“My girlfriend didn’t show up!” Cullen said. “She takes the subway and walks right past this alley.”

Another cop approached. “These guys giving you a hard time, Damiano?”

“No, Jack. I’m fine.” She ducked under the tape, took Cullen’s arm, and led him several feet away.

“Danny, I just got here. I didn’t see the crime scene yet.”

“Were you told what happened?”

She hesitated before nodding. “A Caucasian female was raped and murdered. Her attacker was killed fleeing. That’s all I know.”

Cullen felt like he couldn’t breathe. He looked desperately at Bellucci.

“Don’t think the worst,” his friend said.

He turned back to Damiano. “Would you go and look at the body?” Yanking out his wallet, he pulled a snapshot of his girlfriend from it and showed it to the detective. “This is her.”

He tried to hand her the photo, but she looked reluctant to take it. “Look, Danny, you shouldn’t even be here.”

“Where the fuck should I be?”

“Go home. When I find out I’ll—”

“No! I need to know now!”

“Okay. Okay. But make sure you wait right here. And don’t give this officer any trouble.”

Taking the snapshot from him, she ducked back under the tape again and disappeared down the alley. When she returned in a few minutes, her face looked grim.

Cullen’s heart sank. “It’s fucking her, isn’t it?”

As Damiano nodded, Cullen felt like he’d been hit in the chest by a sledgehammer. He grabbed onto Bellucci’s arm and held it tight.

The detective said, “Take him home, Bellucci. I’ll be over when I finish here.”

“Come on, Danny,” the young boxer said gently, “let’s go home.”

‘She was so beautiful and decent, Mikey. She can’t be dead.”

“I know. I know. I’m so sorry.”

Too shaken to offer resistance, Cullen let his friend lead him back to their apartment building.