The Killer Sex Game (A Frank Boff Mystery) (20 page)

When Cullen heard the downstairs doorbell ring, his heart started beating faster. He pressed the intercom button on the wall by his door and said, “Dina?”

Yes. Are you Danny Cullen?

“Yeah. Second floor. Walk carefully. The steps were waxed today.”

Nervous as hell, he rushed to the mirror to check himself out. He had on a tight black T-shirt to show off his muscles and his best jeans. He looked
good
.

Hearing the click-clack of heels coming down the hallway, he stood by the door and waited for her knock. When she arrived, he put on his best smile and opened the door.

She was beautiful.

“Hi, Dina. Thanks for coming.”

“Nice to meet you.”

As she walked into his living room, he checked her out more closely. She had shoulder-length blond hair with that just-out-of-bed tousled look and was wearing a white blouse with the tails tied up and a black mini-skirt.

“You look great,” he said.

She gave him a sweet smile. “You’re not so bad yourself.” Then she walked past him to look at the framed boxing pictures on the wall. Most were of him in action. She turned back to him and smiled again. “You must be a very good boxer.”

“Why do you say that?”

“My older brother boxed professionally for a few years, but he wasn’t any good. When he came home from a fight, his face was always all bruised and cut up. He still shows signs of the damage. But you?” She stepped forward for a closer look at his
face. “You don’t have a mark on you.”

“That’s because I work very hard on my defense.
My trainer rides me about stuff like that. I’m unbeaten in seventeen fights and have a championship bout coming up at the Garden.”

“Championship? Wow. You
must
be good.”

Turning back to the pictures on the wall, she pointed to one.

“Who’s this?”

“That’s my dad. He’s in the Boxing Hall of Fame.”

“That rocks!”

“I inherited his tenacity and strong will to win. Unfortunately, the talent has been a bit slower to come around.”

Dina pointed to another photo. “And what about this guy?”

“That’s my roommate, Mikey. He’s also unbeaten
and a very skilled fighter, too. He’s out shooting pool now and won’t be home for a couple hours.”

“By the way, Danny, we’re not on the clock yet. I like to know things about my dates. Can I ask you another question?”

“Fire away.”

“Is it true what they say about fighters? That…that they don’t have sex before a fight?”

Just the mention of sex made him uneasy. “Uh, yeah. A lot of boxers…uh, they don’t.”

Dina smiled coyly. “So…are you breaking training rules by being with me?”

He dodged the question. “Why don’t we sit on the couch here? Would you like some wine?”

“Sure.”

After disappearing into the kitchen, he returned with a can of Diet Coke, a bottle of red Bordeaux, one glass, and a cheap corkscrew. “I don’t drink, well, except for an occasional light beer. But my promoter knows a lot about fancy wine, and he recommended this.”

After setting everything on the coffee table, he joined her on the couch. He couldn’t help but notice that her skirt had hiked up. Her legs looked terrific.

Picking up the bottle, he said, “Are you any good at opening these things? I’m not.”

“Give it to me. The corkscrew, too.” It took her just a few seconds to pull the cork and hand the bottle to him.

He poured her half a glass, set the bottle down, and picked up his soda.

Lifting the wine glass, Dina clicked it against his can. “To my new friend. Danny. Who I hope becomes a great champion.”

Cullen watched her face as she took a sip of the wine. She nodded her approval.

“Your promoter
does
know his wine. This is very good.”

After taking a draw on his soda, he set it down.
Now comes the hard part.

“Dina, I was wondering if we could just sort of talk for the hour. It’s not that I don’t find you attractive—I do, you’re amazing—or that I have sexual problems, but I lost a girlfriend recently. She was very beautiful, too.”

Dina touched his arm. “I understand perfectly,” she said. “Some of my other dates just want to talk, too. Or have a companion for dinner. If you just broke up with your girlfriend, I understand it might be hard for you to be with someone else.”

“We didn’t break up. She was murdered.”

“Oh, my God! How terrible! I’m so sorry.” She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Do you want to talk about what happened?”

“It’s hard.”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“Well, I guess it might help me to talk about her. She was a law student and spent a couple nights a week here…. She was a block away when some dirtbag grabbed her and raped and murdered her in the alley.”

Dina suddenly looked startled. He had a hunch she knew exactly who he was talking about.
Play on her sympathy
, Boff had said.

“I was really in love with her,” he said. “Would you like to see a picture?”

Dina shook her head. “You don’t have to do that, Danny.”

“I don’t mind.”

He went into his bedroom and came back with a snapshot of Marla, which he handed to her. She merely glanced at the photo and quickly handed it back to him.

“She was so beautiful,” she said in a low voice. “What a terrible thing to happen.”

He noticed that her eyes were watery. “Are you okay?”

“Yes. It’s just…well, I’m a very emotional person.”

As he put the photo down on the table, the escort quickly took another, bigger drink of her wine.

“Danny, I…I knew your girlfriend.”

“Really? How?”

“We lived in the same building in
Brooklyn Heights. I met Marla in the laundry room. It turned out we were from neighboring towns in Jersey. She was from Union City. I grew up in West New York. We connected right away and got to be really good friends. She told me she had a…a gorgeous boyfriend,” another smile, “but she never told me your name.”

“Why do you think she didn’t tell you my name?”

“I don’t know. All she said was you were a professional athlete.” 

Cullen felt his stomach tighten. This was getting harder than he’d expected. “What…what did she say about me?”

“That you were a great guy…and…and terrific in bed.”

He figured now was as good a time as any to be honest with her. “Dina, I know Marla worked for the same service as you. But I didn’t find out about it until after she died.”

“Is that why you requested me? Because of Marla?”

“No. I had no idea you were friends. I just liked your picture on the website and the nice things it said about you. And I guess I was hoping you might be able to tell me something about her. Anything at all. It hurts, knowing she kept the other side of her life so hidden.”

Dina put her hand on top of his. “Danny, she wanted to tell you. Believe me. She didn’t like keeping a secret from you. But she felt she had to. Although some of the girls have boyfriends who’re okay with what they do, well…Marla…she didn’t think you were the type who’d understand. She told me you were a little naïve and innocent.” She smiled. “But in a cute way.”

Knowing what he had to tell her next, Cullen felt his mouth go very dry. After taking a quick hit on the soda, he said, “A private investigator I know has come up with evidence that Marla’s death was not just some random rape and murder. He believes somebody put a contract out on her. And the cops who shot and killed the rapist were paid to do it.”

Dina blinked and turned her head away for a second. When she looked at him again, there were tears in her eyes. “That’s so totally weird! Why would someone do that?”

“The investigator thinks Marla had found out something damaging to one of her clients. That’s why she was killed. Dina, did Marla ever talk to you about a date she had with a judge?”

She shook her head. He could tell she was close to freaking out.

“Danny,” she finally said, “Marla and I made a point of not talking about our work. We wanted to pretend we were just regular girls. That sounds silly, I guess, but the work sometimes gets to you. Not that I don’t like what I do or think it’s a sin or anything! But we both just needed to step away from it once in a while.”

“I guess I was that place for Marla.” His voice was flat.

Dina nodded. “Yes. She said she was happiest when she was with you.”

“Thanks for telling me that. It makes me feel better. It really does.”

He didn’t know if this was the right time for one of the most important questions Boff wanted him to ask, but he plowed ahead anyway. “Dina…can you tell me who owns the service?”

She frowned. After a minute, she said in a very quiet voice, “I don’t think I should say anything else.”

“Why not?”

“We have rules. If we break them, we could get fired. And I really need my job. I’m saving up to buy a bridal shop.”

“Are you afraid of the owner?”

“Why should I be?”

“I dunno. I mean, you seem so nervous all of a sudden.”

Dina took another drink. “That’s because finding out you were Marla’s boyfriend caught me off-balance. No way was I expecting this.” She hesitated. “Danny, would you mind if I cut our date short?”

“Uh…I’d rather you stayed, but I’d certainly understand if you wanted to leave now.”

“No, I mean…I really don’t want to go…it’s just that I’m afraid I might say something I shouldn’t. You seem like the kind of guy it’s easy to open up to.”

There was a moment of awkward silence. Then Cullen realized it was time to pay her. He took out his wallet, slid out a credit card, and handed it to her.

“I hate to charge you,” she said, “but I don’t have any choice. The service takes ten percent off the top of my fee. Then we split the rest fifty-fifty. I’d get in trouble if I returned with no money or a fee for just half a session. Which isn’t allowed.”

Opening her purse, she brought out a small iPhone
credit card machine and swiped his card. Nothing happened.

“Let me try again.”

This time it worked. She punched in her fee and handed him the receipt that came out.

As Boff had also instructed, he asked, “Can I have your phone number?”

“It’s right on the site.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Danny, I….”

“I just want to take you out for lunch. Or dinner. Not a real date. Just as friends.”

“That’s against the rules.”

“If you don’t tell, I won’t.”

She looked away for a moment, apparently thinking it over. Then, “I shouldn’t be doing this,” she said. “But I guess it’d be nice having a friend who knew Marla. Give me your receipt.”

When he handed it to her, she took a pen out of her purse and scribbled her phone number on the back of the paper slip.

“I’m not home during the day,” she said. “So try me in the early evening. But if I’m not in, don’t leave a detailed message. Just say you called and will call back. It’s safer that way.”

“You have a day job?”

“Yes.”

“What do you do?”

“Danny, I’ve already told you too much. Please don’t ask me any more questions.” She leaned forward and kissed him lightly on the lips. “Do you like museums?” she asked.

“Uh, I dunno. I mean, I’m kind of a movie guy. Last time I went to a museum, I kept staring at the pictures waiting for them to move to the next scene. But if you want to go to a museum, sure, I’d be fine with that.”

“We could go to the Met. If you don’t like paintings, it has all kinds of other neat things.” She hesitated. “Can I have your phone number, too? Sometimes I get a little down after a date. It’d be nice to have someone like you to talk to.”

This was more than he expected. “Sure.” He took one of his boxing business cards out of his pocket and handed it to her.

“The first number is the gym. Second is my apartment. The last one is my mobile. It’s better to call me at home or on the mobile, because my trainer gets annoyed if I get calls at the gym. But if it’s important, you can reach me there.”

Smiling, Dina put the card in her purse, stood up, kissed him again, and left, closing the door softly behind her.

When Boff arrived at his mother’s apartment for what she said was going to be a small dinner party, Benvenuti, two of his bodyguards, and Nicholas the little knife artist were already there. As his mother shouted from the kitchen, “I’m almost done, Frankie,” he took the only vacant seat, a chair facing the mobster.

Benvenuti leaned forward. “Frank, I gotta tell ya, your mother’s a sweetheart.”

“Yes. I know.”

On the coffee table were a platter with a variety of cheeses and crackers and another platter piled high with raw vegetables, plus a sour cream with chives dip. Picking up a carrot stick, Boff nodded to the two bodyguards. He had met them a few years ago when he’d helped to defend Benvenuti on a racketeering charge. If you could get past what they did for a living, they had seemed like okay guys. Then he nodded at Nicholas, who was using a
switchblade knife to slice the wedge of cheese on his plate into paper-thin pieces.

Benvenuti noticed what his nephew was doing and frowned. “Nicholas, don’t play with the food. Eat it.”

The runt slid a small, plastic container labeled rotor oil out of his pocket. After squeezing a few drops on the blade, he carefully cleaned it with a napkin, closed the knife, and put it back in his pocket, along with the rotor oil.

“Frank,” Benvenuti said, “I had a chance to talk with Emilio today.”

“What did he do with the money you loaned him?”

“He said he made long term investments in stocks he felt would eventually take off.”

Just then, Thelma walked in from the kitchen wiping her wet hands on her apron. “Bruno,” she said, “did you introduce my Frankie to your men?”

“Mom, I already know them.”

“Carlo and Michael have been watching the store for me since your apartment was broken into,” she told him. “So I decided to invite them and Bruno for dinner.” She looked at Benvenuti. “Bruno loves my Jewish cooking, right?” The mobster smiled and nodded. “And since Bruno doesn’t go anywhere without Nicholas, I asked him, too. Now, let’s all go into the kitchen, sit down at the table, and eat the best Jewish dinner this side of Katz’s Deli.”

Thelma had cooked a matzo ball soup for a first course. After that, she served gefilte fish with red horseradish, followed by potato latkes with applesauce, and liver knishes.

“Bruno, when my Frankie was a kid, my husband and I never told him we took numbers and the football sheets.”

“How come?” Benvenuti
said. “My boys knew about my business when they were old enough to be told.”

Thelma smiled. “Frankie was too much of a goodie-goodie.”

Boff looked taken aback. “I was not!”

“Of course you were. You were a Cub Scout and a Boy Scout leader. Captain of the basketball team. And vice president of your senior class.”

The list made Benvenuti laugh. “When I was in school,” he said, “kids like that we called faggots—pardon my French.” He forked a piece of potato latke, slid it generously through some applesauce, and shoveled it home. “Mama Boff, not even Katz’s makes latkes as good as yours.”

“That’s because my mother was from
Russia. She taught me the best way.”

Still chewing, the mob boss looked at Boff. “You have any luck finding out who had your apartment tossed?”

Boff nodded. “I’m pretty sure it was the woman who owns the escort service.”

“What’s the good madam’s name?”

“Alicia Celina.”

“Really? You’re kiddin’. I know her. Or at least used to.”

“How?”

“About a month after my wife died, I used an escort service called
Pleasure Island. She worked for it.”

Hearing this, Thelma shook her fork at him. “Bruno! Shame on you! Your wife wasn’t in the ground more than a month, and you started having sex with a call girl?”

Benvenuti had the grace to look embarrassed. “I know, I know, I felt really bad about it. It was supposed to be just a one-shot deal, but…well…I went back to her several times. After awhile, we actually fell in love. We were together about four months. I might even have married her one day, but she had a terrible temper and was so jealous, I thought she was crazy. Psychotic.” He bit into some buttered matzo and continued as he chewed. “So I finally got tired of her and her act and gave her fifty grand as a get-lost present.” He swallowed and laughed. “In the old days, I woulda given her a pair of cement shoes as a gift. Ha! Guess I’ve mellowed.”

“Bruno,” Boff said, “what did Emilio think about your having an affair so soon after his mother died?”

Benvenuti shook his head. “Emilio never knew because I didn’t bring her to the house. We always took a suite at the Four Seasons.”

“Weren’t
you worried that one of your friends would spot you and Alicia out for dinner and mention it to Emilio?’

“
Not at all, Frank. Because we never left the hotel. All our meals came from room service. Funny thing is…well, I still have a fond spot for her.” He shrugged. “But that being said, if she harmed your family, I’ll pay her a visit if you’d like.”

“No, he wouldn’t!” Thelma exclaimed. “I don’t want Frankie mixed up in something like that! You understand?”

“Yes, Mama Boff. I’m sorry I even mentioned it.”

“Good. Now how about I show you some photos of Frankie when he was a Boy Scout? You’d love to see them, wouldn’t you
.” It was not a question.

“No, he would not,” her son said.

Benvenuti grinned. “Yes, I would. I sure would.”

Thelma pushed herself away from the table and stood up. “Be back in a minute,” she said. “I’ve got to look for the album.”

As soon as she left the kitchen, Benvenuti turned to Boff and lowered his voice. “Frank, my offer on Alicia stands.”

“Thanks. I’ll keep it in mind.”

When Thelma returned with a photo album, Boff cringed and made a show of looking at his watch.

“Mom, I really have to go. Billy’s waiting for me.”

“Not until I clear the plates and everybody’s had desert. I made rugelach and mandelbrodt.”

Before bringing the
desert to the table, Thelma opened the album to a page in the middle, handed it to Benvenuti, and pointed at it. “These are Frankie’s Boy Scout pictures.”

Benvenuti broke into a wide grin. “Geez, he really did look like a faggot. What are all those patches on the shirt?”

“Merit badges,” Thelma said as Boff cringed. “He earned them for doing good things.” She leaned over the mobster and tapped one photo. “This patch Frankie got for civil service. This one for dog care. And this one for camping.”

“Camping?” Benvenuti
said. “Where’d you pitch your tent, Frank? Central Park?”

By this time, Nicholas was up and leaning over Benvenuti’s shoulder and looking at Boff’s scout photos. He smirked and returned to his chair.

Thelma wasn’t finished. “Frankie still knows the Boy Scout Oath, too. Recite it for Bruno.”

Boff frowned. “Aw, come on, Mom. Bruno doesn’t want to hear that.”

“Sure I do.”

“But that was a long time ago. I don’t remember the oath anymore.”

“Like hell you don’t,” his mother said. “Let’s hear it.”

Boff knew there was no point in arguing.

“Mom, if I do it, then can I leave the table?”

“After you recite it, yes.”

Blowing out a weary sigh, he said, “On my honor I—”

“Do it the right way,” his mother said. “Stand up.”

“Mom, why are you making me do this?”

“Why? Because I want you to take pride in your accomplishments that don’t involve keeping criminals like my
gumba
Bruno out of jail.”

With great reluctance, Boff stood up.

“On my honor—”

“Right hand,” Thelma said.

He raised the hand.

“On my honor I will do my best to do my duty to God and my country, and to obey the Scout Law…to, uh…help other people at all times, to keep myself physically strong, mentally awake, and morally straight.”

Benvenuti clapped. “I like that last part about keeping morally straight. I guess you missed the boat on that one.”

Ignoring him, Boff leaned down and kissed his mother on the forehead. “I’m going now. Dinner was great.”

“Wait! Let me give you some rugelach and mandelbrot for Billy.” She got up to fix a doggy bag.

“You know, Frank,” Benvenuti said, “I actually joined the Boy Scouts. But after one week, they kicked me out for carrying a knife in my pocket.”

“All Scouts carry knives.”

“Not switchblades.”