The Payback Game (4 page)

Hannah called Boff just as he was finishing his breakfast with his family. His daughter Sharon was home from UCLA on summer break.

Cullen said y
ou wanted to see me
.

“Yes, Hannah. Do you know where Biaggi’s gym is on Nostrand?”

Uh huh.

“Meet me there in an hour.”

Why?

“You’ll have to show up to find out.”

Boff put away his phone.

“Who was that?” Jenny asked.

Sharon answered for him. “It was probably one of his criminal friends.”

Boff pointed a forkful of home fries at his daughter. “Actually,” he said, “it was a reporter for the
Brooklyn Eagle
.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Hey, Dad,” Steven said. “Did the reporter want to interview you?”

Sharon
shot her brother a dirty look. “I still can’t believe you’re calling him ‘Dad’ now,” she said.

“That’s what he is,” Steven replied. “Our
father.
Maybe it’s time
you
started calling him Dad, too.”

She spit out a laugh. “You should live so long, little brother.”

At this point, Jenny frowned and stepped in. “Sharon, that’s enough.”

Nobody said anything for a few minutes until Boff broke the silence. Putting his fork on his plate,
he looked at his wife. “Honey, I was going to wait until after breakfast to tell you something, but I guess this is as good of a time as any to get it over with.” He hesitated, knowing the news wouldn’t please his wife. “I’ve been hired to find a killer.”

Jenny dropped her fork. “Oh no!” she exclaimed. “Not again! I thought you weren’t going to take any more of those dangerous jobs.”

“I wasn’t. I really wasn’t. But Mike Cassidy hired me to work the case. It was hard to turn down a guy like that.”

She looked surprised. “Cassidy? Really?”

“Yes.”

“Who’s Mike Cassidy?” Steven asked.

“A retired star columnist who used to write for the
Daily News.
”

Sharon put her fork down, too, and said, “Boff,
I don’t get it. Why would Cassidy want
you
, of all people, to find a killer? You defend killers. You know nothing about hunting them down.”

As her father gave her an amused look but didn’t reply, Steven jumped in for him. “For your information, big sister,” he said, “Dad is very good at finding killers the cops can’t. In fact, he’s done it a bunch of times.”

“Whatever.” She resumed eating.

“Frank,” Jenny said, “I’m surprised Cassidy hired you. I mean, considering his reputation as a friend of cops.”

“He thinks I can do a better job than the cops.”

“Not that I really care, but what’s this case about?”

“A buddy of Cassidy’s was murdered. No clues. No leads. The case is going cold.”

She let out a sigh of frustration. “Look, Frank,” she said, “I understand turning him down would’ve been hard. But Cassidy or no Cassidy, I’m really not happy you took this job. Now I’ll have to worry about you again until it’s over.”

Boff didn’t want to get into the subject of wifely worry, so he said nothing and concentrated on using a heavily-buttered piece of white toast to mop up what was left of his gooey egg yolk. Then he looked at his son and switched the subject.

“So, Steven, are you ready to quit boxing yet?”

“Nope. Disappointed?”

Boff shrugged and wolfed down the soppy bread. “Finish your waffles. Then I’ll drive you to the gym for your daily beating.”

At the same time, Jenny gave her daughter a significant look. “Sharon, have you told your father yet what you’ve decided to major in?”

Sharon
fixed the steely-blue eyes she had inherited from her father on him. “Pre-law, Boff. I intend to work for a D.A. or a federal prosecutor after I get my law degree.”

Her father couldn’t help but smile. “Can I ask why you chose that for a major?”

“Do you
really
need to ask?”

He said nothing. Of course he knew the reason. To spite him. His daughter was well aware of his disdain for lawyers and the judicial system. And now he was going to have a lawyer in his family.

“You know, Boff,” she added, “one day we might get a chance to go head-to-head in court.”

Her father smiled. “Well, my lovely daughter, if we do, I’ll make you look like an idiot. You’ll never be a match for the great Boffer.”

Jenny sighed again, this time loud enough to stop conversation. “Sharon is only home for another week before she goes back to L.A. to start her intern job. Can’t we eat a
single
meal without the two of you going at it?”

“I’m sorry, Mom,”
Sharon said, “but Boff just brings out the worst in me.”

Finished with her breakfast,
Sharon stood up. “I’ve got to go. I’m meeting a couple friends at the Guggenheim.”

To Boff’s relief, after kissing her mother,
Sharon took off, too.

On the drive to the gym he turned down the volume on a Big Bopper CD so he could talk with his son.

“I don’t get your fascination with boxing,” he said. “Explain it to me.”

“I dunno. I just like hitting people.”

“Hmmm. As far as I can see, the only person getting hit is you.”

“That’ll change. I’m learning fast. Another thing that keeps me going is the way Ryan’s trying to break me. Something inside of me refuses to let him do it. Can you understand that?”

Boff nodded. “Yes, I can. In that regard, you’re a chip off the old block.”

Steven playfully punched his father in the arm. “I sparred a couple of times with Mikey Bellucci. That was way cool. He’s, like, undefeated and a top prospect.”

“I’m guessing he kicked the crap out of you.”

“Yeah, but I nailed him in the nuts on purpose. That slowed him down. I also connected on a couple of rabbit punches before he knocked me on my ass.”

“I gather you don’t have much respect for the rules.”

“Another trait I inherited from you.”

When they arrived at the gym, Boff saw Hannah sitting on the bottom step. A sunshower had just broken out, and rain was pelting the overheated streets and sidewalks, turning them steamy. He found a parking space close to the gym, then he and Steven got out of the car and walked quickly over to the redhead.

“Hannah, this is my son, Steven. He’s allegedly a fighter.”

She smiled and shook his hand.

“I gotta go, Dad,” Steven said. “Nice meeting you, Hannah.”

As his son hurried up the stairs, Boff said, “Let’s go inside, too, before we get soaked.”

Once in the gym, Boff leaned against the wall by the door while he caught his breath from the climb.

Hannah was looking around at the young boxers. “Okay, I’m here,” she said. “What is it you want to talk about?”

Boff easily picked up the hostility in her voice. Cullen was right. She didn’t much care for him. “I want to meet with Maloney’s partner,” he said. “I was hoping you could arrange it.”

“Don’t bother. I already interviewed the guy. He’s a detective named Eddie Galvani. Got a reputation as a good cop. So did Maloney.”

“Did you tell him about what Nicky was investigating?”

“Yes. Galvani told me he had no idea why someone would’ve wanted to kill his partner.”

“I’d like to meet him, anyway,” Boff said.

Hannah frowned. “Why? Don’t you think I know how to conduct an interview?”

“I’m sure you do,” he said in a tone bordering on patronizing. “But I’ve had over twenty years’ experience doing this type of interview. There might be something you overlooked.”

At this, Hannah put her hands on her hips. “I didn’t overlook anything,
Mr.
Boff. I was trained at Columbia School of Journalism. Even if I go with you, with your reputation, I doubt very seriously this detective will want to talk to you.”

“Then I’ll ask Mike to come, too.”

Hearing his name, Bellucci walked over, put on his best smile, and held out his hand to Hannah.

“Hi. I’m Mikey Bellucci, future welterweight champion of the world.”

The redhead let the boxer’s hand dangle in front of her. “Do you always barge in on conversations without being asked?”

The young boxer grinned. “Yeah, I’ve been known to do that. So who
are you?”

Hannah looked at Boff. “Would you get rid of him so we can finish this?”

Boff nodded. “Go back to your drills, Mikey. I’ll tell you about her later.”

“Nice meeting you, Hannah,” Bellucci said with a quick salute. “Maybe, like, you and I, we could, like, you know, go out for dinner some time. I know a lot of good places to eat. I’m something of a gourmet.” After another smile and a wink at the redhead, Bellucci returned to his training.

Hannah picked right up where she had left off. “Even if you get Uncle Mike to go with you, it’ll just be a waste of his time and yours. I covered all bases.”

“Wasting time is fine with me. I get paid by the hour.”

“Man, you’re a persistent sonofabitch, aren’t you?”

“Guilty as charged. In the DEA, they called me Bulldog Boff because once I sank my teeth into something, I didn’t let go. I was something of a legend for that.”

With resignation dripping from her voice, she said, “Okay, I’ll set the meeting up. But I’m gonna be there, too. Just in case I think of anything else to ask.”

“No problem.”

She started toward the door, then turned back. “I’m curious about something,” she said. “I’m told that in the DEA, you were this patriotic agent dedicated to ridding the world of bad guys. Apparently one of the best they ever had. So what made you switch sides when you left the agency?”

“This side pays better.”

She made a sour face and left the gym.

Boff didn’t like telling people the real reason he had switched sides. He had given her his standard answer to end conversation on the subject, but the reality was that after getting sandbagged by agency bureaucrats and politicians on more than a few big cases, he had lost all faith in the so-called justice system. When he quit, he’d decided to work against that system as a way of spiting the agency. Which, over the years, he had come to realize was a pretty stupid reason. The DEA couldn’t have cared less what he did once he was gone. By the time he accepted this fact, however, he was making way too much money to drop his practice and work for a D.A. or a prosecutor.

When McAlary let Cullen go on break, the boxer walked over. “What’s up with Hannah? She didn’t look too happy when she left.”

Boff shrugged. “I guess she got irritated with me.”

“What a shock.”

“She’s going to set up a meeting with the dead cop’s partner for me and Cassidy.”

“I’ll go along.”

“No, you won’t. Hannah’s also coming, so it’s already going to be a crowd scene.” Boff pushed off the wall. “I hear my son whacked Mikey in the balls.”

Cullen nodded. “Yeah, and he rabbit-punched him, too. Steven’s a dirty fighter. I can’t imagine who he got that trait from.”

Detective Eddie Galvani didn’t want to be seen with Boff at his precinct, so he told Hannah to go to the Prospect Park
Bandshell and wait for him there. Boff, Cassidy, and the redhead arrived early and took seats facing the bandshell, where workmen were setting up sound equipment and lights for that night’s concert.

Boff took out his phone and was about to call his wife when he saw a well-built man in his early forties wearing a loose-fitting suit heading their way. He had seen enough cops to know this was one. He put his phone away.

Detective Galvani walked over and sat down closest to Cassidy. His face, Boff thought, looked tense and irritated.
Gee, another hostile cop. What a surprise
. In an attempt to lighten things up, he smiled cordially and said, “Well, detective, you picked a scenic spot for a meeting.”

“I can’t be seen with you, Boff.”

“Why not? I’m a law-abiding citizen.”

Galvani ignored that and turned to Cassidy. “It’s a privilege meeting you. I was a big fan of yours. So was my dad. He was a sergeant in the 83
rd
. Anthony Galvani.”

“Name sounds familiar,” Cassidy said. “Galvani…Galvani….” He snapped his fingers. “Got it! The Bushwick tenement fire. Your old man heard screams coming from the building. The fire department hadn’t gotten there yet, so he raced inside
and carried out two small kids. I wrote a good piece on that.”

Galvani smiled. “Your story is framed on the wall in Dad’s den. He’s retired from the Force now. Works in corporate security.”

The detective leaned over and shook Cassidy’s hand. Then he looked at Boff again. “I only agreed to meet with you out of respect for Mike. Hannah told me Mike hired you to find Nicky Doyle’s killer. She and Mike believe Doyle’s murder was related to my partner’s death. As I told her already, I have no reason to think Patrick was murdered. Or what you expect to find out from me. But for Mike, I’ll suffer your questions.”

Even though Boff was used to cops giving him attitude, this guy seemed to be getting under his skin faster than most. He decided to set the detective up for a high, hard one. “How many years were you partnered with Maloney?” he asked.

“Three in the 71
st
. Before that, we were partners in Brooklyn South Narcotics for five years.”

“Why’d you transfer?”

Before replying, Galvani took out a pack of cigarettes, shook one out, and lit up. After inhaling and blowing smoke close to Boff’s face, he said, “You have any idea, pal, of what it’s like being an undercover narc?”

“Actually,
pal
, I do. I knew quite a few of them in the DEA.”

“Then you’re aware it’s the riskiest job a law officer can take. Every day you’re living a lie in the field. One slip up and you might buy the farm. The
upside is it speeds your progress in becoming a detective.” He took another drag on the cigarette and this time blew it out in a different direction. “As soon as we got our gold shields, Patrick and I transferred to the 71
st
.”

“Did you see each other off the job?”

“Yes.”

“A lot?”

“Yes.”

Time to let
my zinger fly
. “Given how close you and your partner apparently were, I find it hard to believe you didn’t notice something was troubling him before he was killed.”

Boff’s words had the desired result. Galvani snapped at him. “You saying I lied to Hannah?”

Boff shook his head. “Not at all. Let’s just say you left some things out.”

As Galvani made a show of glancing at his watch, Cassidy figured the cop was about to bolt, so he intervened.

“Eddie, I understand how you feel about Boff and what he does for a living,” he began. “But it’s very important to me that Nicky’s killer be found before the case goes completely cold. As a favor to me, keep talking to Boff, okay?”

“Okay, Mike. But just for you.
Not him
.” Now Galvani looked at the redhead. “Hannah, there
were
some things I didn’t tell you because you work for a newspaper, and the Department frowns on cops airing police business in the media. If you promise not to write what I tell Boff now, I’ll fill in the gaps in our interview.”

Hannah
didn’t look thrilled that he’d stonewalled her, but all she said was, “Okay. When this case is over, though, I get to write everything.”

“Fair deal.” Galvani turned back to Boff. “There
was
something bothering Patrick, but he wouldn’t tell me about it. I don’t think it was a personal problem, though, because he always talked to me about those kinds of things. Was his life in danger for some reason? I really don’t know. In Narcotics, sure, we felt that way every day. Once we moved to the 71
st
, I didn’t see fear in him until a few weeks before he died.”

“What were the signs?” Boff asked.

“Well, the biggest one was that Patrick, who didn’t like guns, started carrying a piece off the job. He’d never done that before. When I asked him about it, he said there were just some things going on in his life and he felt better carrying a gun. He wouldn’t tell me anything specific.” The cop took another drag on his cigarette. “I didn’t like that he wouldn’t share with me, but one thing Patrick and I made a policy of was not crowding each other.”

This said, he looked off and went silent
for a few moments. Cassidy sensed the cop was hesitant about saying something. “What is it, Eddie?” the old reporter asked.

“Well, Mike, it’s probably not relevant, but….”

“Tell us anyway.”

After another minute of thought, the cop said, “About a month ago, the precinct captain put in papers to have Patrick transferred to Manhattan North. The captain didn’t give him a reason why,
except to say they needed good cops like him up there. Which was obvious bullshit. I mean, as you well know, Mike, the North’s got some of the best detectives on the force. Patrick and I had gotten a few commendations, so he filed a grievance with the union over the transfer order. The union was preparing to look into it when Patrick died. Or, as you think, was killed.”

“What’s the captain’s name?” Boff asked.

“Pete Nelson.”

“Good cop?” Hannah asked.

“As solid as they come. Everybody seems to like him. Patrick and I got along fine with him. Well, at least until the transfer thing.” He pointed at Hannah. “Remember, this is off the record.”

“I’ve never betrayed a source,” she said. “Mike taught me that from the get-go.”

The cop looked at his watch again. “Now I’ve really gotta take off,” he said. “My new partner and I just caught a murder. We want to get a fast start on it.” He turned to Cassidy. “Mike, I hope I was of some help.”

“You were, son. You’re a standup guy. Just like your father.”

Galvani smiled. “Thanks. I’ll let him know you said that.”