“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.”
Chapter 6
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 83rd. 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 71st. 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 71st.”
“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 th
e 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 71st, 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.”
Chapter 7
Driving away from the park, Boff noticed that Hannah, who was wedged into the front seat between him and Cassidy, looked stung. Undoubtedly, he surmised, because he had gotten information out of Galvani that she hadn’t been able to. Her Uncle Mike seemed to sense it, too.
“Get over it, Hannah,” Cassidy said. “You’re no good to us if you’re gonna sulk.”
“I am not sulking.”
“Like hell you’re not! Listen to me, young lady. Boff’s much more experienced at these kinds of interviews than you are. That’s fact. Accept it. It doesn’t mean you’re not a very good reporter. Without what you got from Nicky, we wouldn’t have a clue how to find his killer. Now come on, give your Uncle Mike a big smile. You’re much too pretty to pout.”
A “smile” barely creased her face and disappeared immediately. She turned her attention to Boff. “Okay, hotshot, so what do we do next?”
“Well, I’ve got some questions relative to the case that I want to ask a detective sergeant in the 77th. She and I have worked together before on the QT. If you’d like, you can come along. Unless you’re due back in your newsroom.”
“I’m not. I just started two weeks’ vacation. And when I told my editor what I was working on, he said I could stay out indefinitely while I chased it. It’d be a big deal for the Eagle to break a story about a murdered cop. So, yeah, count me in.”
“Not me,” Cassidy said. “It’s been way too long between drinks.” The old reporter took out his cell and speed-dialed. “Sean, I’m in a Brooklyn state of mind. You got any of that fancy Brooklyn Brown Ale in the fridge? ... Good. Put ’em on ice for me, buddy.”
After hanging up, he pointed ahead. “Frank, there’s an F station at the end of this block. You can drop me off there.”
“I can drive you to the bar.”
“Why? It’s out of your way. Besides, I love the subway. I got some of my best stories from riders. Did you ever hear about the piece I wrote the day the first Space Shuttle was launched?”
After Cassidy disappeared into the station, Boff called Detective Sergeant Victoria Damiano.
“Victoria, meet me at your favorite spot in the Botanic Garden. Make sure you leave three guest passes at the gate.”
What’s up?
“I need some of your wonderful insight.”
Blow that smoke up your own ass. What’re you working on?
“The Nicky Doyle murder.”
Why?
“Mike Cassidy hired me to find his killer.”
No shit? What’s Cassidy’s interest?
“Doyle and Cassidy were real tight. How soon can you be there?”
I’m on my way.
Boff stopped to pick up Cullen at the gym before continuing on to the Botanic Garden. They found the detective standing on an arched walkway overlooking two large pools of water a sign said was filled with lilies and sacred lotus.
Damiano was tall and slender, with sandy blond hair pulled back into a pony tail. Boff knew the only time she let her hair down was in bed with her live-in lover, police Lieutenant Diane Barrios.
The detective turned when she saw them approaching. As they came closer, she pointed to Hannah and said, “Who’s your new partner?”
“This is a Hannah Riley,” Boff replied. “She writes for the Brooklyn Eagle.”
“Riley, yeah,” the detective said. “I’ve read some of your crime stories. You’re pretty good.”
“Thanks. Boff doesn’t agree, but who cares about him?”
That brought a smile to Damiano’s face. “Boff doesn’t think anybody’s as brilliant as he is. Ask him sometime why, if he’s so smart, he needed me to save his life on a rooftop in Riverdale.”
“Actually, Victoria,” Boff said, “in case you’ve forgotten, it was my genius that enabled you to be a hero. If I hadn’t kept my cell phone on speaker, you never would’ve been able to save me.”
All the detective could do was shake her head. “You would say that. Let’s sit down on the bench.”
Carrying a brown bag, she led them across the walkway to a bench under a cherry blossom tree. Sitting down, she opened her brown bag and took out a sandwich. “Mind if I eat while we talk? This is my lunch hour.”
“Go right ahead,” Boff said. “I’ve got a few questions for you.”
“Fill me in on the case first.”
After he brought her up to speed, he said, “My first question for you is why would a cop doing his job well enough to get commendations suddenly get a transfer order from a superior officer? A captain he’d always had a good relationship with.”
Damiano finished swallowing a bite of her sandwich before replying. “Well, it’s possible he got into some kind of trouble and the captain found out.”
“But if he did,” Hannah said, “wouldn’t the captain have simply notified Internal Affairs? Instead of transferring him?”
“In most instances, yes,” Damiano replied. “But, if the cop had done something which would’ve embarrassed his superior, a transfer would be less messy.”
“My second question,” Boff said, “is what would make a cop who never packed off duty suddenly start carrying a piece a few weeks before he was killed?�
��
“Before I answer that, first let me say I’m not entirely convinced this guy was murdered. Even very physically fit and relatively young people have had heart attacks. Remember that guy Jim Fixx? Wrote a bestselling book about running and its benefits for good health? He dropped dead while jogging. At fifty-two.”
“If memory serves,” Boff said, “there was a history of poor health in Fixx’s family. His father died of a heart attack in his early forties. Maloney, on the other hand, had no history of heart disease in his family. Plus, how do you account for the guy who tailed Maloney home? And the getaway car that picked him up without its headlights on?”
“Well,” Damiano said, “I have to admit that certainly lends some credence to your theory.” She stopped talking to take another bite of her sandwich. “Why would a cop start packing? The most obvious reason is he was worried his life might be in danger. As it apparently was.”
Boff nodded. “That’s about what I thought. I also think we can say with some certainty it’s likely that whatever the threat to the cop was, it had to be pretty serious.”
“I would think so. You said this cop had been a narc for five years. It’s possible something he did back then recently came to light and put him at risk.”
“Like what, for example?” Cullen asked.
“Oh, I dunno, Danny. Maybe a dealer he put away was released from jail and was gunning for him.”
“Yes, that’s certainly possible,” Boff said. “But in all the years I was in the DEA, and now in private practice, I can’t recall once when a pissed-off dealer went to the trouble to kill somebody by faking a heart attack. In most cases, they’d just shoot the guy or off him with a knife. That’s why I’m more inclined to think it was something risky he was into in the present, not the past.”
“Like what?” Hannah asked.
“Well,” Boff replied, “there’s plenty of ways a cop could’ve gotten himself into a fix when he was off duty.”
The Payback Game Page 4