The Payback Game (14 page)

Wearily, the old bartender looked her way and said, “Lady, we don’t stock them fancy brands. Just bar tequila.”

“That’ll do.”

Shaking his head, the bartender set his beloved bowl of peanuts aside once again and slid off his stool. Then he grabbed a label-free bottle with amber liquid and half-filled a rocks glass. Dipping two fingers inside a small, plastic container near the beer spouts, he plucked two brownish-looking green wedges out of it, dropped them on a wrinkled paper napkin, then shouted, “Here you go, lady!”

Cassidy slid out so Hannah could get by him. She went to the bar, picked up the rocks glass and what were possibly limes, and returned to her spot in the booth. After licking the back of her hand below the index finger, she sprinkled salt from Boff’s shaker on
the moist area, licked the salt off, knocked the entire drink down in one gulp, sucked on the limes, and then banged the empty glass down on the table.

Fueled up, she looked directly at Cullen with fierce eyes. “Okay,
here’re the rules! They’re not negotiable! Neither of you two clowns is allowed in my room at any time! I shower every day at eight in the morning. Fit your shower schedule around mine. There are to be no late-night orgies. If you have a cat or a dog, get a friend to watch it during the duration I’m stuck with you. I’m bringing a portable TV. Have your cable company put in an extra outlet for me. Plus Internet. Lastly, I want you to take all the food you and that Bellucci character has in the refrigerator and put them on the top two shelves. I’ll take the bottom shelf and both of the vegetable bins. I don’t want to find meat of any kind on my shelf.”

Cullen smiled. “Anything else, your highness?”

“If I think of something, I’ll certainly pass it on.” She pointed at Cassidy, who was still smiling. “As for you, you’re going to regret doing this to me!”

Walking out of the bar, Boff asked Hannah to call Rashid and set up a meeting for them. Before she could make the call, however, Cassidy grabbed her arm.

“I don’t want you going along when Boff meets with this kid,” he said.

“Try and stop me!”

Cassidy frowned. “If you get hurt, young lady, I’ll never be able to look your grandfather in the eye again.”

“I’ll be with Cullen and Boff.” She pulled her arm out of his grip. “Besides, nothing’s going to happen to me. And I doubt Rashid would meet them without me along.”

Still frowning, the old reporter looked at Boff. “Are you packing?” he asked.

Boff shook his head. “I haven’t carried since the DEA.”

“Why the hell not?”

“That’s a story I’ll have to tell you one day.”

Cassidy stepped closer to Boff. “Frank, if you feel you’re in danger at any time, call me right away. I know plenty of cops who can get help to you fast.”

“You got it. In the meantime, I’d like you to set me up with this guy Bassett, who runs the nonprofit. Tonight at the pub would be great. Again, no mention of me.”

“I don’t get your interest in him, but I’ll do it.”

On the ride over to Hannah’s apartment, nobody said a word until the redhead suddenly pointed at a six-story brick building and said, “Pull over there!”

After Boff parked, he said to her, “I’ll wait outside while you pack.”

Slamming the door behind her, Hannah walked to the building and disappeared inside. Twenty minutes later, she still hadn’t come out.

Cullen said, “You think she’s not coming?”

“Oh, she’ll come. She’s just taking her own sweet time. I guess she figures that’ll aggravate me. Which, of course, it won’t. I get paid by the hour. Meanwhile, I suggest you call your roommate and let him know Hurricane Hannah is heading his way. And be sure to relay her rules.”

Cullen caught Mikey walking home from the gym. He filled him in on the latest news.

The cute redhead? No shit? Cool!

“You won’t think it’s so cool when I tell you this.”

Cullen recited Hannah’s Rules. When he was done, Bellucci sounded decidedly less excited.

Aw,
man! That totally blows! Especially the part about the shower. You know I always shower about the same time.

“Relax. After a couple of days with us, we’ll have her housebroken. How close are you to home?”

Block away.

“Do me a favor. Straighten up any mess that’s in there. Put all our food in the fridge on the top two shelves. If you have time to run the vacuum, do it.
Also, clean up the hairs in the shower and the bathroom sink.”

What
the fuck! You think I’m a friggin’ maid?

“Just do it, Mikey. And one more thing. Empty the top two drawers in my bureau and half my closet. Put all of that stuff in your room.”

This is total crap!

“Yeah, but I’ll buy you dinner to make it up to you.”

Boff tapped Cullen’s arm. “Tell Mikey to make sure the toilet seat is down.”

“Why?”

“You’ve obviously never lived with a woman. It’s a courtesy women like.”

Cullen relayed this to his roommate.

I know that, for chrissake! I lived with my grandmother before I moved in with you. Remember?

Bellucci hung up. After another fifteen minutes, Boff’s phone rang. It was Hannah.

I need Cullen to carry my stuff.

“Okay.” Boff turned his head. “Help her bring her things down to the car.”

After Hannah buzzed him in through the street level door and told him her apartment number, Cullen ran up the two flights of stairs and found Hannah waiting in an open door. As she stepped aside to let him in, he glanced around her living room. It had a cozy, lived-in look. There were two large suitcases on the floor. On the couch, he saw a small TV, a computer bag, a frying pan with knives, forks, and spoons in it, a steamer basket, and a box filled with assorted produce and groceries.

“I have frying pans and utensils,” Cullen said.

“I don’t want to use anything that’s been touched by meat.”

He shrugged. “Have it your way.”

“I intend to.”

“With all this stuff,” Cullen said, “we’re going to have to make two trips to the car.”

“You are. Not me. Take the suitcases first.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Cullen hustled down the stairs with the suitcases, dumped them in Boff’s trunk, then hustled back up the steps to her apartment.

“Now what?”

Without answering, the redhead walked to the couch and hooked the computer bag over her shoulder, then she put the pan and steamer basket into the box of veggies, and lifted the box.

“Get the TV
,” she ordered.

As they headed for the door, she stopped to look back at her living room and frowned. Then she said, “Okay, let’s go.”

Reaching Boff’s car, Cullen loaded the TV into the trunk next to the suitcases, then took the box with the food and utensils from her and put it in, too. Hannah stepped into the backseat with her computer bag and slammed the door behind her.

Climbing into the front seat, Cullen turned around to his new roommate. “Do you like the Beatles?”

Not deigning to reply, she just stared out her window.

“Reason I bring it up,
is there’s this Beatles song that kinda fits this Hallmark moment. One of the lyrics goes something like this: ‘She’s leaving home—’”

Hannah covered her ears. Boff started the engine.

Bellucci was waiting at the door, a forced smile on his face, when Cullen and Hannah arrived at their apartment.

“Hi!” the young boxer said. “Welcome to our humble abode. Let me help you with your stuff.”

But when he tried to take the box from her, she brushed past him without a word
and said over her shoulder, “Which room is yours, Cullen?”

“First door on the left.”

She walked into the room. Cullen followed her with the suitcases, and Bellucci carried the TV. The first thing that caught her eye was the wall covered with boxing photos.

She turned to Cullen.  “Those pictures have to go!
All
of them!”

“Your wish is my command,” he said. “Mikey, help me.”

While they were taking the photos down, she said, “Do you have clean sheets and a pillow case?”

“Of course. I always keep a set handy in case we get a wonderful guest like you. I’ll get them.”

“Wait! First put my suitcases over there.” She pointed to his dresser. “And clean out some drawer and closet space for me.”

“Mikey already did.” Cullen picked up the suitcases, set them down in front of the dresser, and said, “Do you need help unpacking?”

“No.”

She handed her box of food to him.

“Put this stuff in the fridge the way I instructed you to do. Make sure my utensils are kept separate from yours.”

As Cullen and Bellucci left the room, the door slammed behind them so loud it sounded like an explosion.

Bellucci looked back. “I have a feeling life as we know it around here just changed.”

That same evening, Boff got a call at home from Cassidy.

Bassett’s coming to the pub around nine tonight.

“Describe him to me.”

Black guy. Early forties. Maybe six-foot one, two. Looks like an athlete.

“Okay, here’s the way I’d like to play it. I’ll get there early and park my car in a spot where I can see the front entrance. If someone matching that description goes in, I’ll wait five minutes while you two take a booth and order drinks. Then I’ll go in. Don’t ask Bassett any questions about the nonprofit before I get there. Just make small talk. When I walk in, call me over.”

Boff arrived at Bailey’s thirty minutes early. The closest parking space he could find was a half a block away, so he took his binoculars out of the glove department and focused them on the bar’s front door.

At five minutes to nine, a taxi pulled up and a man fitting Bassett’s description stepped out and walked into the pub. Boff waited five minutes. As he entered the bar, he saw that Cassidy had positioned himself in a booth facing the front door. Bassett had his back to the door.

“Hey, Frank!” Cassidy called out, waving his arm. “Come on over! Don’t drink by yourself!”

Boff walked to the booth and slid in next to Cassidy.

“I would’ve sat with you when I came in, but I saw you had company.”

“No problem. Frank Boff, this is Earl Monroe Bassett. He runs Nicky’s nonprofit.”

“Any relationship to Earl ‘the Pearl’ Monroe?” Boff asked.

Bassett laughed. “No. No. My father was just a big Knicks fan.”

Boff gave him
a once-over. He was wearing a tan sports jacket and a black Ralph Lauren polo shirt. He looked relaxed.

“What
’re you drinking, Frank?” Cassidy said.

“Same as you.”

Cassidy signaled for Wendy and ordered two mugs of draft beer and a Manhattan straight up, which was what Bassett was drinking.

“This is a nice pub, Mike,” Bassett said. “Real neighborhood place. I’m not a fan of upscale yuppie bars.”

Cassidy nodded. “This bar is my home away from home,” he said. “Actually, it’s more like home than my apartment. I’m never there except to sleep and eat breakfast.”

“Any news from the cops about Nicky?” Bassett asked.

“Not much. So far, they haven’t come up with a suspect. Or even a good lead.”

Bassett looked at Boff. “So, Frank, what do you do?”

“I’m a private investigator.”

“One of the best around,” Cassidy added.

“Are you working for Mike on something?”

“No,” Boff replied. “We’re just old friends. I met him a few years ago when I was helping to defend a cop buddy of his accused of tampering evidence. From time to time I stop in to see how he’s handling civilian life.”

Wendy returned carrying a tray of drinks and a couple baskets of homemade potato chips. “Jeremy just made these,” she said, setting the baskets on the table. “I figured you’d want some.”

Cassidy flashed a smile. “Wendy, if I hadn’t sworn off marriage, I’d propose to you.”

The waitress grinned. “Mike, I’d never marry you. You’d drive me crazy.”

As she walked away, Cassidy turned his attention to Bassett.

“Reason I invited you here, Earl, is I was wondering how you’re making out with the nonprofit. I know Nicky tried to help you as much as he could. I imagine with him gone, it’s a lot more work for you.”

Bassett nodded. “Yeah. It is. But I’m doing okay. As you can imagine, the staff and I were really shaken up by his death. For the first two months, it was like working in a funeral home. I still can’t get used to the idea that Nicky’s gone. I owe my life to him.”

“How so?” Boff asked as he scooped up a handful of chips. Cassidy dove into the basket right after him.

Bassett grabbed some chips, too. “Well, you see, Nicky gave me a job when no one else would even look at me. I’d been a venture capitalist with my own
company, and was doing really well. Until the market took a nose dive. My company got hosed. I had to shut it down and look for work.” He swallowed his chips, then took a sip on his Manhattan before continuing. “Needless to say, there wasn’t a lot of interest in a guy who’d bankrupt his own company. I mean, yeah, I was able to get some consulting and advisory work here and there. But nobody wanted to take me on full time.”

“Until Nicky did,” Cassidy said.

“That’s right. Nicky and I first met socially. Turned out, we were both basketball freaks. We tried to get out to a Knicks game together at least twice a month. We went to a bar near the Garden after a game, and that’s when Nicky told me he was trying to put together a nonprofit to help underprivileged kids. He asked for my advice on how to set it up.”

He picked the cherry out of his
Manhattan and ate it. “I guess Nicky was impressed with what I told him. He offered me the CEO’s job on the spot. That sure stunned me. But I accepted the job without hesitation.”

“Nicky always followed his gut feelings,” Cassidy said. “Most of the time, they proved to be right. In your case, you know, he told me he was really happy with the job you were doing.”

“Well, I’m sure he wasn’t too thrilled with me when I didn’t get his camp started up in time for this summer. It wasn’t like he unloaded on me, Mike, but he was pretty upset.”

“What camp is that?” Boff said, pretending not to know.

“One he wanted to build in upstate New York for ghetto kids,” Bassett replied. “Nicky was particularly interested in kids that were really talented in basketball. It was a personal thing for him. Mike can tell you more about that than me.”

As Wendy walked by the table, she glanced at their potato chip baskets, which were almost empty. “I’ll get Jeremy to make a new batch,” she said and headed for the kitchen.

Keeping his tone casual, Boff said, “Why wasn’t the camp built on time for the summer?”

“I guess you could blame it on me.” Bassett laughed. “Nicky sure did. The thing you have to understand about a nonprofit, Frank, is it has a lot of programs on the table that require hands-on care. As much as I wanted to get the camp going, those other programs kept pulling me away from it.” He looked at Cassidy. “Mike, that’s going to change now. I recently hired an assistant who used to work at my firm. He’s capable of shouldering a lot of the workload on those other programs. I guarantee you the camp will be up and running for next summer.”

“That’s good to hear,” the old reporter said. “You know, I’m curious about something, though. What happened to the money Nicky raised for the camp?”

Bassett took another sip on his
Manhattan before replying. “Some of it was used to fund our other projects. Nicky was okay with that. Then, when I realized I wasn’t going to be able to get the camp built in time for this summer, I put the bulk of it into certificates of deposits.”

Boff decided it was time to steer the conversation over to Nicky’s murder. “Earl, I wasn’t entirely candid with you at the beginning,” he said. “While Mike didn’t hire me, I told him I’d look into Nicky’s murder when time permitted. I haven’t come up with much yet. An investigation like that needs full-time attention. With my case load right now, I just can’t take it on. The main thing I’ve found out is that before his death, Nicky was working on some kind of explosive story. But I haven’t been able to pin down what it was about. I’m wondering if you know.”

Bassett shook his head. “Nicky never talked about his newspaper work when we were together. It was always the Knicks or our nonprofit. As great a reporter as he was, Nicky’s real passion was for basketball. And helping the kids.”

The waitress came back with two more baskets of freshly-made chips. As she picked up the empties and turned to go, Cassidy grabbed her arm.

“Wait a second,” he said. He turned to Bassett. “Earl, are you hungry for something more than chips?”

Bassett smiled. “Actually, I haven’t eaten dinner yet. I worked late and then stopped with a colleague for a couple drinks before hustling up here.”

“I apologize for not asking about food when you got here. I don’t know where my mind was. Wendy, what’s Jeremy’s special tonight?”

“Soft shell crabs. He bought them this morning at the Fulton Fish Market.”

“Sounds good to me,” Cassidy said. “You guys game?”

Boff and Bassett nodded.

“One more thing, Wendy,” the old reporter said. “Would you bring us a couple more beers and….” He looked at Bassett. “Another Manhattan, Earl?”

Bassett nodded. “Let me hit the john first,” he said.

Wendy pointed toward the back of the bar. “It’s straight ahead and to your right.”

Boff waited as Bassett slid out of the booth and was heading for the men’s room before saying, “Mike, would you ask him if he was worried about his job when Nicky got angry about the camp not being built?”

Cassidy looked puzzled. “Sure. But why?”

Boff shrugged. “Well, maybe Nicky was going to fire him right before he was murdered.”

Cassidy pursed his lips and gave the idea some thought. “Surely you’re not suggesting Earl had Nicky killed to keep from getting fired, are you?”

“Not at all. I’m just fishing around, as I do on every case. Ask him about the firing thing as casually as you can. I’m more interested in studying his face when he answers than in what he actually says.”

Just as Wendy was returning with new drinks, Bassett came back from the bathroom and slid into the booth. The waitress set down napkins, silverware, a tub of tartar sauce, and another tub with a pale green concoction in it.

“The green one’s cilantro mustard sauce,” she said. “Customers have been raving about it.” She hustled away to another table.

Cassidy spread a napkin on his lap. As they waited for the food to be served, they chatted about the Knicks’ latest games. Then Cassidy said, “Hey, I was thinking about what you said earlier. When Nicky got upset about the camp not being built, did you ever worry he might fire you?”

Bassett hesitated a moment, then smiled and shook his head. “No. No. Not at all. That was the first time Nicky was unhappy with my work. Otherwise, he was really pleased with the way I was running things. Why do you ask?”

Cassidy shrugged. “I may be retired, but I’m still as nosy as ever.”

Over crabs that Boff thought were excellent, they talked about basketball and politics. Then they had two more rounds of drinks, followed by coffee.

“Those crabs were great,” Bassett said, surveying their empty plates. “Mike. I hate to eat and run, but I’ve got a meeting scheduled for eight in the morning. I want to get up early to prepare. Frank, it was nice talking to you.”

As Bassett stood up to go, Cassidy said, “When you break ground on the camp, I’d like to be there to dedicate it to Nicky. Let me know when it happens.”

“Absolutely.”

After shaking hands with both men, Bassett left the pub.

Cassidy sat down again. “So, Frank, what’s your take on him?”

“He sounded sincere, although I noted that he hesitated before answering a simple question. And I thought his smile was a bit forced. Other than that?”
He shrugged. “There’s not much more I can say without having a chance to really grill him.”

“So he’s off your suspect list?”

Boff shook his head. “Until I can totally eliminate him, Earl stays in play. By the way, what’s the name of the nonprofit?”

“‘Dreams Come True.’”

Boff smiled. “Me being a cynic, I would’ve called it, ‘Dreams Come True Only in Your Dreams.’ Anyway, for now, we stick with Galvani, Maloney, and the longshoremen.” He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “I’m wondering if you know a way to get Nicky’s Social Security number.”

“Why?”

“I want to do a financial workup on him. It’s probably another fishing expedition, but you’d be surprised how many times I’ve developed leads off financial records.”

“I can get it from the head of the
News
accounting department. We became good friends after I wrote a story about his son being drafted by the Yanks. Let me take a quick stab at reaching him now.”

Boff raised his brows. “An accountant would be at his office
this
late?”

“No. But the guy once told me he keeps backup disks of his important work at home.”

Cassidy took out a little address book, looked up the accountant’s number, and called. He got the Social Security in a matter of minutes and also invited the guy up to Bailey’s for a drink.

Ten minutes later, Boff thanked Cassidy for the meal and left. Once he got in his car, he called his information broker.

“I’ve got a couple things for you to do, Billy. First, I want you to find out all you can about a guy named Earl Monroe Bassett. He once owned a venture capital firm that went belly up. Now he runs a nonprofit started by Doyle called ‘Dreams Come True.’ I’d also like you to do a financial workup on Doyle. His SS was one-three-five, four-eight, five-four, three-three.”

I’m on i
t. Listen, do you remember that hot summer in 2010 when fires broke out all over Russia because of record heat? ConspiracyCentral is now saying the temperature was being manipulated through chemtrails, and—