After buying a case of the homemade red, he continued on to the mobster’s house. When he was shown into the kitchen by one of Benvenuti’s soldiers, he found the mob boss chopping up onions and garlic for a huge pot of soup he was cooking. He was wearing a white bib apron that covered his shirt and pants, and he had a black FBI cap on his head.
“Got you a present,” Boff said as he set the case down on the kitchen table. Although the box had no label or writing on it, Benvenuti immediately smiled. “Fiore’s finest,” he said. “Thank you.” After putting down his butcher knife, he wiped his hands on the apron and walked over to give Boff a hug.
“Siddown, Frank. I’ll fetch a couple glasses.” He brought over two small water glasses and slid one in front of Boff as he sat down. Then he took a bottle out of the case, popped its plastic cap, and filled the two glasses.
Boff took a small sip. “Pretty good stuff.”
“Terrific is more like it.” Benvenuti drained half his glass. “I don’t go for the fancy French and Italian wines. All they talk about is complexity and pears and blackberries and other fucking fruit you can supposedly taste in the wine. If I want fruit, I’ll buy it at the stand. This is real wine.” He took another swallow. “So, Frank, what besides good wine brings you to my humble abode?”
“I’m working on a case involving some murders and an elite escort service. Among those killed was a high-class call girl.” Boff paused before adding, “Emilio was listed in her client address book.”
Benvenuti shrugged. “Then he’s a chip off the old block. After my wife died, I used an escort service because I didn’t have the time or the heart to look for a replacement.”
Boff took another small sip. “My apartment was tossed by someone looking for that address book. While they were trashing the place, my son walked in and got a concussion from a gun butt. Emilio was one of the few people who knew I had the book. If he wasn’t your son, Bruno, he’d be a prime suspect. But I have a hard time believing he’d do anything to harm a friend of yours.”
“Correct.”
“The only thing keeping me from eliminating him is he told me he’s never been part of the family business. So…is it possible he didn’t realize it would be against your code to harm a friend of yours?”
Before replying, Benvenuti grabbed the wine bottle and topped off his glass and Boff’s. “It’s true Emilio didn’t join the family business,” the mobster began. “But he definitely knew what was going on. And he heard me say many times that friends of the family were never to be touched without my permission.”
Boff nodded. “Let me ask you something else.”
“Shoot.”
“I’m assuming Emilio took a hit when the financial industry tanked a few years back. Is it possible he thought that buying into an elite escort service that charges up to four thousand an hour would be a way of making back the cash he’d lost?”
“Is it possible? Sure. Is it likely? No. Emilio wouldn’t turn to illegal activity now after all these years of staying out of my business.”
“Bruno, let me make something clear to you. I mean no disrespect by asking you these questions. I’m doing it because I owe it to my client to explore all possibilities. I have one more thing to ask, but if you want me to stop now, I will.”
“Frank, you gotta do your job. Ask me whatcha want.”
Boff nodded. “In the last few months, did Emilio ever come to you for money?”
Benvenuti laughed. “He’s a son! All sons sponge off their old man. I bet you shell out plenty to Steven.”
“Yes, but that’s going to stop real soon. I’m going to make him earn his allowance by working for my mother on weekends. That way she’ll get more time off.”
“Good for you. It’ll teach him the value of work. Unfortunately, I spoiled my children. Although all of them except Antonio turned out fine. To answer your question, about three months ago, Emilio did ask me to loan him some money. Two hundred large. I did so without hesitation. The kid didn’t tell me what it was for, and I never asked. And even though I told him the money was a gift, he’s been paying me back.”
Boff took another sip of wine. “You said Emilio never told you what the money was for. Is it possible he bought into the escort service and didn’t want you to know?”
The mobster spread his hands. “Again, I highly doubt it. But, since you seem concerned, how about I talk to Emilio and ask him what he did with the money? I won’t mention you came to me about this or wondered if he’d harmed your son. He’d be insulted.”
“I understand completely. Thanks.”
Boff finished his wine and stood up. “Your soup smells great,” he said. “What is it?”
“Pasta e faglioli. When it’s done, I’ll send one of my boys over to your place with a container.”
“My mother loves pasta e faglioli.”
“Then I’ll send her some, too. Plus a loaf of Madonia Brothers semolina bread and some gorgeous Auricchio provolone that’s been hanging for a year in Cuomo’s deli.”
“Bruno, you’re the best.”
After another hug, the mobster said, “Frank, promise me one thing.”
“Sure.”
“In the very unlikely event you find out that Emilio was mixed up in this service and with the murders, come to me first.”
“You got it.”
On the drive back to Brooklyn, Boff put on a CD of Little Richard’s Tutti Frutti album. Listening to it, he began considering what had transpired at Benvenuti’s house. He had told the mob boss what he wanted to hear, but if it turned out that Emilio was responsible for trashing his apartment and injuring Steven, then he’d have to figure out a way to punish the kid without leaving his fingerprints. Right now, however, Alicia was still his prime target. Other than Emilio knowing he had the address book and not remembering how much he paid the escort girls, there was really nothing tangible to implicate him.
Chapter 39
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 servic
e 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.”
The Killer Sex Game (A Frank Boff Mystery) Page 19