The Punishing Game (16 page)

“Anything you tell us stays with us,” Damiano said.

Vivion nodded and lowered his voice still more. “Simms cut Vargas up so bad the boy went into a coma from loss of blood. Would’ve bled out right away if I hadn’t of stumbled on him stuffed in a utility closet. Only reason I looked in there, I saw blood seeping out under the door. Vargas died a few days later.”

“No witnesses, I gather,” Boff said.

“None willing to come forward. But we knew it’d been Simms. Day after it happened, you could see it in the way the other kids steered clear of him. They were more afraid of Simms than any of the correction officers. And let me tell you, I am not proud to say it, but I worked with some of the meanest sons of bitches ever to wear a badge. A few of the guards talked about trying to kill Simms, but they never did anything about it but talk. Not because they gave a damn about the law, no, sir. Those guards were just as afraid of Simms as the kids were.”

Vivion emptied his beer glass and set it down. “I know you guys can’t tell me any details…but would I be wrong in thinking that whatever you suspect Simms of doing, it was violent?”

Boff gave him a tight smile. “No, you wouldn’t.”

“And you came here wondering if he was capable of it?”

“That’s right.”

“James Simms is capable of anything, Mr. Boff. I mean
anything.
There ain’t nobody going to convince me
that
boy changed his life around. No way in hell.”

“Thanks, Chris,” Boff said. “You’ve been a big help.”

Boff and Damiano took turns shaking Vivion’s hand, then they and the two boxers turned to go. Halfway to the door, Boff suddenly stopped and turned around. “One last thing, Chris,” he said.

“Sure.”

“You said there were four guys in the Little Mafia. Do you remember who the fourth one was?”

“I sure do. He was the biggest drug dealer at Speckford. Hispanic kid. From what I read,
he sure as hell ain’t changed his spots, either. In your line of work I’m sure you’ve heard of him. Enrique Solis.”

Worried that he and Bellucci would be late for their workout, Cullen pestered Boff until he set his cruise control a whole five miles over the speed limit on the Thruway. Boff being Boff, Cullen noted that he checked his rear view mirror a maddening number of times, undoubtedly on the lookout for state troopers. They finally arrived at the gym with ten minutes to spare.

As Cullen opened the car door, Boff said, “Still think it was a waste of time to go up there?”

“Guess not,” Cullen said.

“Cases are like puzzles, Danny. If you gather enough pieces, eventually a picture emerges. Today we added more pieces.”

At this point, Big Alonzo arrived and lumbered up the steps to the gym, his ample backside jiggling. They watched him go into the gym.

“What’s that guy do?” Boff asked. “Work as a punching bag?”

“He’s a boxer,” Bellucci said. “Sort of.”

“If McAlary can make a fighter out of that blimp, he’s a really good trainer.”

“Getting back to our Little Mafia,” Damiano interjected, “it’s entirely possible that Solis and Yusef were involved with Biaggi and Ricci on the deal Biaggi’s ex-wife mentioned. Or perhaps Biaggi had something on them.”

“Like what?” Cullen asked.

“That’s what we have to find out,” Boff said. “Damiano, can you get the ballistics report on the shooting?”

“Yes. Why?”

“Just a hunch.”

“Care to share?”

“Not yet.”

As Bellucci started up the stairs, Cullen lingered behind a moment. “So where’re you two off to?” he said.

“I can’t speak for Detective Damiano,” Boff said, “but I’m going to revisit my new friend, Enrique Solis. I don’t expect him to tell me anything useful. I just want to rattle his cage. As for the lovely Ms. Damiano….”

“I have a dinner date.”

“What’s the lucky guy’s name?” Cullen asked, looking disappointed.

“Diane.” With that, Damiano got out and headed for her car.

Boff looked at Cullen. “Oops. Guess she doesn’t have the hots for you, after all.”

“You knew, didn’t you?”

Boff remained stone-faced. Cullen gave him the finger, left the car, and hustled up the stairs.

Before Cullen changed into his boxing gear, he went over to where McAlary was doing leg stretches. “I wanted you to know the latest development,” he said.

“And what might that be?”

Knowing what McAlary’s reaction would be—and bracing for it—Cullen said, “Boff now thinks Biaggi was the real target of the drive-by.”

McAlary stopped stretching, stood up, and put his hands on his hips. “That’s crazy. Everybody liked Nino. Next thing Boff’ll be saying is I was the target. I don’t think he has a clue what he’s doing this time.” He paused. “What was his reason for changing his mind?”

Cullen explained Boff’s second shooter theory, Biaggi’s fallout with Ricci, and what they’d learned from the former Speckford guard. When he was done, McAlary took his time before saying, “Well, that does sound suspicious. We’ll talk more about it later. Go get changed.”

After putting on his gear, Cullen began shadowboxing in front of a mirror. Bellucci was demonstrating to Alonzo how to make the speed bag hum. As Cullen got into his shadowboxing rhythm, he began thinking about what they had learned today. Four guys that were in a juvenile gang thirty years ago were now living in the same city and might’ve had a business deal going. He wondered what odds Solis would make on—

Suddenly the gym windows exploded in a hail of bullets, sending glass flying and knocking out a big fluorescent light overhead. Everybody hit the deck. Alonzo grabbed Bellucci and pushed him to the floor, using his massive body to cover him. The gunfire lasted only a few seconds, then they heard sirens approaching fast.

Getting to his feet, McAlary shouted, “Anybody hurt!”

It didn’t appear that anybody had been hit by a bullet, but a few of the guys had glass cuts that would need tending. When Alonzo got up, Bellucci didn’t. He lay there writhing in pain. Cullen and McAlary rushed over to him.

“Mikey, you get hit?” McAlary asked.

“Yeah, but not by a bullet. Friggin’ two-ton Alonzo landed on my left wrist. I think it’s broken. Damn!”

Alonzo looked like he was about to cry. “Aw, man, I’m sorry. I was just tryin’ t’ protect you.”

Holding his damaged wrist with his right hand, Bellucci managed to sit up. He smiled at the big kid. “I know, Alonzo. I know. I’m not mad at you, pal. I’m mad at my body for failing me.”

“Let me see that wrist,” McAlary said.

Bellucci held it out and McAlary examined it with a gentle hand. When he got to one spot, Bellucci winced.

“I’m no doctor,” the trainer said, “but if it’s any comfort to you, I think it’s just a b
one bruise. Well, get X-rays just in case.” He turned to Sierra, who had come forward. “Angel, would you bring Mikey an ice pack?”

Cullen pulled McAlary away from the group. “Looks like they fired from street level,” he said.

“And you know this because…?”

Cullen pointed to the ceiling. “Bullet holes only up there. Nobody got shot. And the floor and the mirrors aren’t nicked.”

“This some of your training from Boff?”

Cullen shrugged. “Stuff just kind of rubs off.”

Within minutes, they heard footsteps rushing up the steps outside. The door burst open and uniformed cops and medics rushed in.

“Anybody shot?” called a uniformed policeman with three stripes on his sleeves.

McAlary walked over to the sergeant. “It doesn’t appear so,” he said. “We’ve got some guys with glass cuts, though. They’ll need tending.”

“We’re on it,” one of the medics said.

“I’m Ryan McAlary. I’m running the gym for Nino Biaggi’s wife.”

“Sergeant Hernandez.”

As they shook hands, another uniformed cop walked up. “Looks like they shot from the street, Sarge.”

McAlary grabbed one medic and led him over to Bellucci, who was holding an ice pack to his wrist. “This lad’s hurt the worst,” he said. “I’d like to have his wrist X-rayed.”

“No problem,” the medic said. “We’ll take him to Kings County.”

Cullen tapped McAlary on the shoulder. “Ryan, I’m going with Mikey,” he said.

Alonzo stepped forward. “Me, too.”

The medic, who was about five-foot six, looked up at massive Alonzo. “I think it would be a bit crowded with you in back,” he said.

Bellucci turned to his protector. “Thanks anyway, Alonzo. Coach, I’ll be back tomorrow.”

As Bellucci headed off with the medic, Cullen started to go with him, but McAlary grabbed his arm.

“I’m uncomfortable with you tagging along,” he said.

“Why?”

“Suddenly I don’t like you outside without me or Boff around. You haven’t got the street smarts to smell trouble coming.”

“Oh, come on, Ryan. I’ll have cops all around me. And I’ll ask them to have a patrol car drive me back so I can finish my workout. Okay?”

“Never mind your workout. You stay with Mikey. He’s going to need you.”

“Why?”

“Oh, man, I can’t be hurt
.” Bellucci tried to sit up as the ambulance wove through the traffic. “I have a fight coming up.” His eyes welled with tears.

“Before you get too upset, Mikey,” Cullen said, “why don’t we wait and see what the X-rays show.”

“But what if it’s broken? Boxing is my whole life, Danny. I’m nothing without it. Just another street kid with a mouth.”

Cullen laughed and pushed him down again. “Jesus, what a crybaby you are. I thought Mikey Bellucci was tough.”

“Mikey
is
tough, you know that. He’s not afraid of anything.”

“Then why are you so upset about a little wrist injury? Everybody gets hurt in the gym at one time or another.”

“Yeah, but Mikey Bellucci has never been hurt or missed a workout.”

“You don’t have to skip working out,” Cullen said. “There’re plenty of things you can do with just your right hand. Like one-arm pushups. Pull-ups. Running. Strength and conditioning drills.” He pointed to Bellucci’s good hand. “Maybe with all the extra work you put in on that hand, you might actually knock somebody out with it one day.”

Bellucci smiled. “Yeah—and it could be you. Word! I’m glad you came along.”

Cullen laughed. “If I’d known what a pain in the ass you were going to be, I wouldn’t have.”

Boff was standing on the corner of 79
th
Street and Broadway eating a beef and cheese Slim Jim when a maroon Mercedes sedan pulled up to the curb alongside him. The back door swung open. Shoving the last of the meat stick into his mouth and tossing the wrapper into the street, Boff stepped into the car, where he found Enrique Solis sitting alone and holding an uncapped metal flask. The car smelled of whiskey. Solis didn’t look at Boff, but only signaled to the drive to pull away from the curb.

Still not looking at Boff, Solis said in a cold voice, “Frank, I love your mother, but you’re making this a habit. What is it you want now?”

Gone was the drug dealer’s pleasant demeanor. Somebody must have gotten to him, Boff thought. Figuring Solis wasn’t going to give him more than a few minutes, Boff got right to the point.

“Enrique,” he said, looking directly at him, “you didn’t tell me you had history with Yusef.”

Solis finally looked at Boff. There was nothing friendly in his demeanor.

“You, Ricci, Yusef, and Biaggi,” Boff continued. “I bet you guys terrorized Speckford.”

Boff could tell Solis was angry and struggling to keep himself under control. The drug dealer took a sip from his flask before speaking. Then, “Why are you looking into my past?”

“I wasn’t. I just came upon the information about Speckford by chance.”

“Look, I gotta be somewhere. What is it you want to know?”

“Two questions,” Boff said. “One, did you, Ricci, and Yusef have Biaggi killed?”

Never taking his eyes off Boff, Solis took another sip from his flask. Then he said in a flat tone, “What’s the second question?”

“Why did you do it?”

Solis suddenly smiled. It was the kind of smile you see just before someone cuts your throat. “Frank, Frank. This crude line of questioning is beneath a man of your reputation. What happened to the clever manipulator who traps his prey?”

Boff held his hands up. “I got the distinct feeling I didn’t have the time to weave my magic. So I went for the jugular.”

“The answer to the first question is no.” Solis smiled again. “Which makes the second one meaningless.” He leaned forward and tapped his driver on the shoulder. “Circle back, Jose. We’re almost done.”

Boff wasn’t quite done. “Did the three of you have some kind of business deal going with Biaggi?”

His question apparently caught Solis off guard. It took him a minute to reply. “That’s three questions, Frank. You said two.”

“I meant three.”

Solis turned away and spoke to the window. “My answer is the same. No. I rarely deal with Yusef except for his betting and an occasional dinner. Ricci fronts me tickets to his boxing events from time to time, but we don’t socialize. As for Biaggi, I had nothing to do with him. Or more to the point, he wanted nothing to do with me. Nino was very narrow-minded when it came to drugs. He thought they were bad for people.” He turned his head. “Can you imagine that?”

“It takes all kinds.”

The car arrived back at the corner where they’d picked Boff up.

“Frank, my friend, let me ask you a question,” Solis said as Boff started to open the door.

“Fire away. I’ll try to be as candid as you were.”

“You make your living defending criminals. Why are you suddenly playing cop?”

“It’s complicated, Enrique. But what it boils down to is my wife wants me to be in heaven with her, so she’s making me do righteous work to earn points with God.”

Solis shook his head. “Frank, do yourself a favor. Forget about heaven. If I had to make book on your chances of getting there, the odds would be greater than hitting back-to-back lotteries.” He took another sip on his flask. He had to shake it to get the last drops out. Then he capped it.

“Do you know what you are?” Solis suddenly asked.

“Yes. But I’m sure you have a different opinion.”

“You’re as big a scumbag as the people you defend. Maybe worse. Because they take risks in life. You just feed off them. You’re a parasite that gets paid whether you win or lose.”

Boff smiled. “Someday we’ll revisit this conversation when you need the services of a good parasite to keep you out of jail.”

“Good bye, Frank.”

Boff opened the door and started to step out, but then turned back to Solis for a minute. “Enrique, why do you think I win so many of my cases?”

Solis shrugged. “Because you’re a very smart scumbag.”

“That’s something you might want to keep in mind before you start making any long range plans.” He got out of the car, leaving the door wide open behind him.