“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 it. 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—
“Billy, I’ve got a call coming in from my wife. I’ll get back to you.”
Chapter 26
Cullen was passing by Hannah’s closed door in the morning when he heard her talking to someone. Putting his ear to the door, he heard her say “Rashid” a few times, so he figured she was on the phone setting up a meeting with the snitch. It sounded like it was for early afternoon at the same spot in the IKEA parking lot.
As soon as he heard her hang up, he hustled away from the door, picked up his gym bag, and waited in the living room for Bellucci to finish taking a leak.
Hannah had barely said a word to them since she’d moved in, and she only ventured out of her room to prepare her meals, which she ate back in her room.
As the two boxers were jogging toward the gym, Bellucci said, “Man, she’s some piece of work.”
“Worse than McAlary.”
Bellucci laughed. “Yeah. At least with Coach, he occasionally listens to what you have to say.”
“In my case, very occasionally.”
“Maybe we should get her flowers,” Bellucci said, “And take her out to dinner.”
“Wouldn’t help, Mikey.
She’s exactly like you when she’s mad. You’re both unapproachable until you cool down. And, besides, she wouldn’t eat with us.”
“I am not unapproachable….” He smiled. “Well, maybe just a little bit.”
Arriving at the stairs to the gym, Bellucci said, “Let me go in first. Wait five minutes, then come inside. I don’t want to be within twenty feet of you when McAlary sees your bandaged hands.”
“Coward.”
Bellucci took the stairs rapidly and disappeared inside. Cullen gladly waited the five minutes. He wasn’t looking forward to the reception he expected to get from his trainer.
Then he had an idea.
As soon as he entered the gym, he thrust his hands into his pants pockets and ducked into the locker room. Even though he wasn’t cleared yet for sparring or heavy bag work, he wrapped his hands to hide the bandages before he walked out.
Spotting Cullen, McAlary walked over and pointed at his hands.
“What’s with the wraps?” the trainer asked.
“I was hoping I could do some light work on the heavy bag. The shoulder feels really good.”
“Did you wrap them good?”
“Yes.”
“Let me see.”
The second McAlary grabbed Cullen’s right hand, Cullen winced.
“What’s wrong with your hand?” the trainer asked.
“Nothing, Coach.”
“Then why’d you make a face when I grabbed it?”
Cullen said nothing. His little ruse was about to blow up in his face. Still holding the hand, McAlary applied more pressure to it.
“Ow!” Cullen yanked his hand away.
The trainer frowned. “Let me see the other hand.”
“I’m fine, Ryan.”
“Don’t you be feeding me that blarney. What’d you do to your hands?”
No sense trying to hide it now, he thought. “Well, you see, Ryan…I…uh…I sorta got into a fight.” Then added quickly, “But I had a doctor examine both hands. He said they’re okay.”
The trainer pointed to an empty bench nearby. “Sit your ass down!”
As soon as they were both straddling the bench, McAlary started taking off Cullen’s wraps. When the boxer’s bandaged hands were exposed, the trainer’s face reddened. He pulled Dr. Riley’s bandage half off of one hand to inspect the damage, then glared at Cullen.
“Did you get X-rays?”
“Yes.”
McAlary studied his eyes. “You’re lying.”
Cullen let out a sigh. “The doctor suggested I get X-rays as a precaution.”
“Advice you ignored.”
All Cullen could do was nod.
McAlary rewrapped the bandage before saying, “If your hands don’t get better in two days using ice and Advil, you’re going for X-rays.”
Even though he hadn’t raised his voice, every other boxer in the room knew something was wrong. They all stopped working out to stare at McAlary and Cullen. The sudden lack of sound in the gym made McAlary turn to the other boxers.
“Get back to work! Mind your own business!”
As the fighters resumed their drills, the trainer returned his attention to Cullen. “Lemme hear about this fight you had.”
Cullen didn’t bother to sugarcoat it. When he was done, McAlary’s face was about as red as he had ever seen it.
“Outside!” the trainer ordered.
At the top of the landing, McAlary said, nearly shouting, “What the hell’s it going to take for you to end this romance with Boff! When you get seriously hurt and can’t fight anymore?”
“I took care of those guys with no problem.”
“No problem? No problem? For chrissake, Danny, these bruised hands will set you back a week or more. And why the hell didn’t you tell me you were working with him again?”
The boxer shrugged. “I guess I was afraid to.”
McAlary let out a frustrated sigh. “So what’s this damn case about? Another murder?”
Cullen laid it out for him. When he was done, the trainer exploded.
“Chasing down a cop killer? Dammit, Danny! I helped make you a champion. HBO budgeted one million for your first title defense. This is just the beginning. You’re on track to becoming a wealthy boxing star. Why the hell would you want to jeopardize all that?”
“Ryan….”
“At least with Julio and the other two cases you worked on with Boff, you had a personal stake in finding the killers. I don’t see anything like that here. Explain this to me.”
“I…I can’t.”
“Why the hell not?”
“Because I don’t know why.”
“That’s bullshit! What’s the reason?”
Cullen thought about how to phrase it, then finally said, “Well, you know how they say once a lion kills a human being, they get a taste for it? I…I guess the same holds for me in catching killers.”
“That’s your friggin’ explanation? Comparing yourself to a bloody friggin’ lion?” McAlary threw his hands up. “As God is my witness, in all my years in boxing, I’ve never encountered anything like this.” He jabbed his boxer’s chest. “No other trainer in the world would put up with your antics. I must be some kind of idiot to keep working with you.”
Sensing that the worst was over, Cullen said nothing while he waited for his trainer to cool down.
It took more than a minute, but McAlary finally said, “Well, if you get killed, don’t expect me to come to your damn funeral.”
Cullen half smiled. “That’s fair.”
“Don’t get cute with me,” McAlary fired back. “If you think I’ve worked you hard in the past, think again. As soon as your shoulder’s fully healed, I’m going to pound your arse so hard you won’t have an ounce of energy left to run around with that wanker Boff. Now get back in the gym. I want you to hit the treadmill until you drop!”
Chapter 27
When Rashid arrived at the IKEA parking lot and saw Boff sitting with Hannah and Cullen on the grass by the river, he walked up to her and frowned.
“Hannah, who’s this guy?”
“He’s a private investigator.” She turned to Boff. “Pay Rashid now. And throw in a little extra.”
Boff extracted a Benjamin from his wallet. Seeing it, the snitch smiled, grabbed the bill, stuffed it in his pocket, and said, “Okay, Mr. Private Investigator, now you’re cool with me.” He sat down on the grass with them. Then he noticed Hannah’s stitched face and Cullen’s bandaged hands.
“You two been fighting?” he asked.
“Yeah,” Hannah replied, “but not with each other. Your buddy, Derrick, set us up. Two thugs attacked us with knives.”
“That muthafucka!” Rashid exploded. “He ain’t no muthafuckin’ buddy of mine! I’m gonna whup his ass!”
“Rashid,” Boff said, “I know how you feel, but let us handle Derrick. Do you have his home address? All he told us was he lives in Bensonhurst across the street from a dealer.”
Rashid shook his head. “That’s whack! Derrick, he don’t have him no place of his own. Dickhead can’t afford rent on account everything he makes he shoots up his arm.”
“He’s homeless?” the redhead asked.
“Not exactly. He’s got him, like, this junkie girlfriend wit’ a crib in Bensonhurst. He stays with her.”
“Do you have the girlfriend’s address?” Boff asked.
“No, but I can get it for you. That skank girlfriend of his is friends with a sweetie I know.” He took out his phone and punched in a number.
“Yo, Belinda, this is Rashid … Yeah, baby, I’m doin’ fine. Listen, I need a favor. You know that chick Daphne? … Well, I need her home address. You still got one of her stupid business cards? Yeah, I’ll wait …” The snitch turned to Hannah. “She’s gittin’ the address now.”
Boff took out a pad and pen. “Rashid, repeat what she says so I can jot it down.”
When Daphne came back online, Rashid dictated to Boff what she told him. “Yo, Belinda, drop around
some time, girl. Rashid will show you a real good time.”
After hanging up, the snitch looked at Boff and shook his head. “Daphne’s so-called business card says she’s a professional actress. Only films that dumb bitch been in is porn.” He stood up. So did the others. “Tell me, Mr. P.I., whatcha gonna do to Derrick? I hope you break a lotta bones.”
“I’m not a violent man. All I want to do is to have a little heart-to-heart talk with him.”
Daphne lived on a street gentrification had not yet found. The buildings looked as decrepit as the one the slumlord had been working on. The sidewalks were cracked, and along the block were several abandoned cars missing body parts and tires.
Stopping in front of a six-story tenement, Boff checked his notes. “This is it,” he said. “Let’s go in and introduce ourselves.”
After climbing the front steps, Boff opened the unlocked outer door and pressed the buzzer for 5-B. He waited a couple minutes to be buzzed in through the inner door. When nothing happened, he pushed it again. Same result.
“In a crappy building like this,” he said, “it wouldn’t surprise me if the buzzer isn’t working.”
“Or maybe they’re not home,” Hannah said.
Cullen tapped Boff’s arm. “You want me to climb the fire escape and look in their window?”
Boff shook his head. “Before you start playing Spider Man, let me try the buzzer again.”
This time he held his finger on it for fifteen seconds without any response.
Cullen said, “Why don’t you just pick the lock?”
Before Boff could reply, Hannah brushed by him, grabbed the door knob, and twisted it. It opened. Looking back at Boff with a smirk, she led the way into the building. They found apartment 5-B on the second floor. Boff knocked hard on the door. Nobody answered. They waited another minute. He put his ear to the door and heard rap music playing.
Hannah tried the door knob. This one was locked.
“Now what?” she asked.
“Stand back,” Boff replied, “and watch the master go to work. It looks like a simple pin-and-tumbler.”
Reaching into his pocket, he took out a soft leather case about the size used to hold eyeglasses. He opened the flap and slid out a long, thin piece of metal curved up at the end like a dentist’s pick. After inserting it into the key hole, he fiddled with the lock for a few seconds, then opened the door.
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