The Killer Sex Game (A Frank Boff Mystery)

by Nathan Gottlieb

Wright riffled through it. “What’s this?”

  “Client addresses for a call girl named Marla Hoban, aka Marla Ramirez. The book lists clients with aliases. But the addresses look real.”

  “So you want me to get names to go with the addresses?”

  “Correct.”

  “No problem. Hey, what are you doing with a hooker’s address book?”

  Boff explained to him what he’d found out about Cullen’s girlfriend and her connection to Rafael.

  “That’s pretty wild,” Wright said, and then flipped through the little book again. “There’s a helluva lot of names in here. It’d be highly unusual for a solo hooker to have that many clients. She almost certainly worked for an escort service.”

  “I’ll dig into that,” Boff said. “Meanwhile, how soon can you supply the names?”

  “Tonight. Tomorrow morning.”

  “Thanks, Billy.”

  As Boff headed for the door, Wright called out, “Next time, I’m going to ask Chana to do some craniosacral work on my scrotum. I have a lot of deep-seated issues there.”

  Chapter 25

  Boff had to go through a switchboard operator and two assistants before he was able to connect with Emilio Benvenuti at the investment bank where he worked.

  “Just wondering,” Boff said, “if we could meet at your place after work. What time do you knock off?”

  Around five. Five-thirty good for you?

  “Perfect.”

  What’s this about?

  “I’ll tell you when I get there. I won’t keep you long.”

  Boff next stopped by the gym and waited for Cullen and Bellucci to finish their afternoon sessions. Cullen was working the speed bag when McAlary came over to him with Bellucci and two other young boxers. One was a wiry Hispanic, much smaller than Cullen, the other, a huge black kid who must have been a heavyweight.

  “Glove up, Danny. I want you to spar nine rounds with Mikey, Alonzo, and Derrick.”

  As Sierra put the gloves on Cullen and laced them up, McAlary explained the drill. “Danny, here’s what we’re going to do. You’re going to go one round with Alonzo, then one with Derrick, a third with Mikey. You don’t get to rest between rounds. In the fourth round, we begin the rotation again.”

  “Why not do three straight rounds with each guy?” Cullen asked.

  “Because doing it this way, you’ll be facing a fresher fighter in each round and you’ll have to work harder.”

  A half hour later, Cullen was done. As he and Mikey headed for the bathroom to wash up and change into street clothes, McAlary walked over to Boff.

  “So, Boff, are you making any progress?”

  Boff told him what he had learned about Rafael Oquendo and his connection to Cullen’s girlfriend and her extracurricular activities.

  The trainer took a few minutes to mull this over before he spoke. “I assume Danny knows all this about his girlfriend?”

  “Most of it. I haven’t told him about her apartment yet.”

  “Do you have to?”

  “If he’s going to work with me, he has to be up to speed on everything. If he can’t handle it, then I won’t take him with me on this case anymore.”

  “He’ll handle it,” the trainer said. “He’s a tough kid.” Seeing Cullen and Bellucci coming out of the locker area, he walked away.

  “What’d Ryan want?” Cullen asked.

  “Progress report.”

  They left the gym and walked to Boff’s car, a block away. As Cullen reached for the back door handle, Boff said, “Wait a minute, Danny. Before you get in, I want you to know something. If you can’t deal with it, then there’s no point in your coming along.”

  Cullen let go of the door. “Since when can’t I handle things?”

  “Are you sure of that?”

  “I just told you, didn’t I?”

  “Fine.” Boff took a breath, more for Cullen’s benefit than his own. “Then I want you to know that Marla had dominatrix paraphernalia in a hidden compartment of her closet at her condo.”

  Cullen just looked at him.

  “I also found an address book in her apartment listing all of her johns. Danny, she was a high-class call girl.”

  The boxer’s jaw muscles were twitching, but he kept a lid on his temper. After a minute, he said, “Okay, so I was in love with a kinky whore. Let’s fucking move on.”

  Boff studied his face before dropping the next bomb. “We’re going to meet one of her johns right now.”

  “Great! Maybe we can compare notes.” With a bitter laugh, the boxer opened the back door and got in with Bellucci.

  As Boff put the car in gear and pulled away, he said, “We’re going to see Emilio Benvenuti. What I didn’t tell you the first time you met him is he’s the son of a powerful mobster.”

  “So?”

  “So I want you to be aware, Danny that if you lose your famous temper and hurt him in any way, there’ll be repercussions even I won’t be able to stop. Are we clear on that?”

  “Crystal.”

  When they reached the second floor landing, Emilio was standing at his open door holding a glass of red wine in one hand.

  “Come on in, guys.”

  As they walked into Emilio’s stylish condo, Boff’s eye was caught by a large book lying on the coffee table. Five Families. He pointed to it. “I would’ve thought you already knew all of that mob stuff,” he said.

  “Actually, I don’t.”

  As his guests sat on the couch, Emilio opened a small refrigerator behind his bar, brought out two Pepsis and a Diet Coke, and handed them the cans. Then he sat on a stool at the bar. “I mean, yeah, sure, I knew what was happening with my father while I was growing up. But I never got involved in the family business.”

  “Your brother did,” Boff said.

  Emilio nodded. “Yeah. And now Antonio’s serving time for manslaughter.”

  Boff purposely kept the conversation light so he could ease into the tough questions. “Why’d you go into banking?”

  “To distance myself from Pop. Not that I disapprove of what he does, but banking kept me from being tempted to join him. Plus, I wanted to get out from under his shadow. Anyway, what brings you here?”

  Boff took a long hit on his Pepsi before responding. “Marla,” he said. “She was a high-class call girl. I found her address book. It listed all her johns. Your name was in it.”

  Emilio glanced at Cullen, but said nothing.

  “For reasons you don’t need to know,” Boff said, “I think Marla’s murder was a set up, a contract hit disguised to look like a rape gone south.” He took another swig. “As for your involvement with Marla, well, I can understand why you didn’t mention it at the bar.”

  Emilio turned to Cullen. “Look, Danny, I’m sorry it was your girlfriend.”

  “Me, too.”

  “You were so shaken up at the bar, there was no way I was going to tell you then. You can understand that, right?”

  “Yes. I understand. How much did she charge?”

  Emilio frowned and looked at Boff.

  “Tell him,” Boff said.

  “I think it was around twenty-five hundred for the hour,” Emilio said. “Give or take. I can’t remember.”

  “I guess I was lucky,” Cullen said. “I got her for free.” He paused, then, “Was she worth it?”

  The mobster’s son let out an anxious sigh. “Frank?”

  “Tell him.”

  After taking a quick sip of his wine, he set the glass on the bar, and nodded. “Yes. She was worth it. But not just because of the sex. She was great to talk to. She had a nice sense of humor.”

  Cullen glanced away. “I know,” he said in a low voice.

  “Danny, I—”

  “Emilio, it doesn’t fucking matter now. All I want is to catch the scumbag that had her killed.”

  Not wanting Cullen to get into it with Emilio anymore, Boff took charge.

  “How many times did you see Marla?”

  “Just onc
e.”

  “How long ago was that?”

  “Oh, about six weeks or so.”

  “Did she bring a dominatrix outfit?”

  Emilio looked surprised. “No. Why do you ask that?”

  “Just curious.”

  Bellucci chimed in. “I got a question,” he said. “Emilio, you’re a good-looking guy. You probably make a lot of money. I’m sure you could get plenty of pussy. So why’d you pay for it?”

  “For convenience, Mikey. For convenience. There’s a lot of men like me who work really hard and don’t necessarily have time to look for women or go out on regular dates.”

  “I’m assuming,” Boff said, “that Marla worked for an elite escort service.” When Emilio nodded, he asked, “What was the name of it?”

  Without answering, Emilio got up, left the room, and returned with a laptop, which he fired up. Then he hit a bookmark and handed the computer to Boff. Cullen and Bellucci moved closer to him on the couch so they could see, too.

  “NY Club Cachet VIP,” Boff read off the screen.

  Taking out a pen and business card, Boff copied the web address. Then he began to scroll down the site. Each girl had a section of her own describing her personality and interests in life. The women all wore provocative but tasteful dresses or designer lingerie. None were naked. And their heads were cropped in such a way that their eyes were not revealed. Two phone numbers were listed on the site. One with a Manhattan area code, the other, a Brooklyn code. Boff read out loud what it said for one of the women.

  “‘Heather is a beautiful college junior, an engaging companion with a sweetly pure personality. She has danced ballet for most of her life and prances through life with poise and grace. Her natural vibrancy and wholesome background make her presence as refreshing as the ocean’s mist on a summer night.’”

  Then he looked up to Emilio. “Were they really as advertised?”

  “Yeah. Classy girls. I used two others besides Marla. Dina and Laurie. Laurie was the highest priced girl on the website. And well worth it.”

  “How much did Laurie charge?” Boff said.

  Emilio took a quick sip on his wine. “Let me think. This was a couple months ago. I believe it was close to 4K.”

  “Did you use a credit card?”

  The mobster’s son shook his head. “Cash. I didn’t want to leave a paper trail. I imagine Laurie was a big earner for the service. You had to book with her weeks in advance.”

  “Anything in particular you remember about Laurie?”

  “Besides her being drop-dead gorgeous and the awesome sex? Well, one thing I was surprised about is how much she knew about the stock market. I thought she might be a broker or banker. Well, for a minute or two, at least…but that was obviously farfetched.”

  Boff recalled how many brokers he’d seen listed in Marla’s address book. “Did she ask you for any investment tips?”

  “Actually, Frank, all the girls did. Like they were programmed to. As much as I liked the girls, I wouldn’t give them a tip because I didn’t want to risk getting into trouble with the SEC.” He emptied his glass, grabbed the wine bottle, and refilled it. “This you might find curious, Frank. About ten days ago, Laurie disappeared from the site.”

  “Guess she lost the taste for it.”

  “I doubt it, Frank. She was making a ton of money and really seemed to enjoy her work. Laurie told me that on a couple occasions she even fell in love. And once she was booked for a weekend with this guy who had a major-league yacht. He took her to this private little island off the Florida Keys. She said it was like living in a fairy tale.”

  “What if she didn’t quit?” Cullen interjected. “What if she ended up like Marla?”

  Boff had been thinking the same thing. Now, as Emilio shrugged his shoulders, he filed it away as something to look into later. “Emilio,” he said, “how closely were you vetted before you could date these women?”

  “They asked a lot of questions, that’s for sure. I had to give my full name and the place I worked at so they could contact me there before we met. I wasn’t too keen on doing that, but they wouldn’t send a girl without the information. Another thing Laurie said was that most of the girls also used an outside verification service. The service had some kind of database that let the girls know if a new client had a history of giving escorts problems. But Laurie said she’d never had a bad experience.”

  “There’s always a first time,” Boff said. “Maybe she ran into a guy who wanted some free time after he paid her. When she refused, he got rough. If he busted up her face, she couldn’t work. Which could explain why she disappeared from the website.”

  “If a guy did that,” Emilio said, “chances are he’s in a hospital now. Or dead. I got the distinct impression these girls are well protected.”

  “One last thing,” Boff said. “Would you be able to get me the mobile phone number of your bartender friend at Devil’s Own? I have a couple more questions I need to ask him.”

  “Sure. Matt and I are big Yankees and Knicks fans. We go to games together once in a while.” Taking out his wallet, Emilio slid out a card. “Here’s his number.” He read it off.

  After writing it down, Boff asked, “Do you know what time Matt starts his shift at Devil’s Own?”

  “Around nine, I believe.”

  Boff stood up. “Thanks for taking the time, Emilio. I owe you dinner. Any place you want.”

  The mobster’s son laughed. “Are you sure? I go to some expensive restaurants.”

  Boff smiled. “I’ll bring my wife. We’ll make a night of it.”

  “What about your son?”

  “No way. Steven would ruin my evening. I’ll give him money for Taco Bell.”

  Emilio slid off his stool, walked over to Boff, shook his hand, then Bellucci’s. Then he looked at Cullen, obviously hoping that the boxer would offer his hand first. When Cullen finally did, Emilio looked relieved and shook it.

  “I’m sorry for your loss, Danny,” he said. “My father’s a powerful man. If you ever find the person who had Marla killed, you might want me to give him a call.”

  Emilio said nothing further. But Cullen understood exactly what he meant. He looked at Boff. He understood, too.

  Chapter 26

  On the ride back to Crown Heights, Cullen said, “If Rafael hung out with beautiful girls, and Marla was a hooker, isn’t it possible the other girls he went to Devil’s Own with were hookers, too? That would tie Rafael to the escort service. And if he was tied to it, I’m thinking maybe he was killed over something involving the service.”

  “It’s all very possible,” Boff said. “But let’s sit on that for a while.”

  Boff slipped Fats Domino’s “Blueberry Hill” into his CD player and turned it down uncharacteristically low. “Did either of you guys find anything off-key about what Emilio said?”

  Cullen looked at Bellucci. They both shrugged.

  “No,” Cullen replied. “Did you?”

  “When I asked Emilio how much he paid Marla he said, ‘I think it was around twenty-five hundred for the hour. Give or take. I can’t remember.’ He also said it wasn’t that long ago, about six weeks.”

  “So?”

  “Then when I asked him how much he paid for Laurie he said, ‘I believe it was close to four thousand or so.’ And he paid her in cash.”

  “Again,” Cullen said, “so what?”

  “Let me ask you both this, If you paid a few thousand for just one hour with a girl, and it was fairly recent, wouldn’t you remember exactly how much it cost?”

  Cullen nodded. “I see your point.”

  Bellucci said, “And it was cash. Meaning he had to count out the money. No way would I forget laying down four thousand in bills.”

  “Where are you going with this?” Cullen asked. “You think Emilio lied about seeing the escorts?”

  “No. I believe he was with them. I just have a hunch he didn’t pay. That would explain why he seemed to be struggling to remember.”
/>   “Why would they have sex with him for nothing?” Bellucci asked.

  Cullen replied before Boff could. “One reason could be Emilio’s the owner of the escort service. Or a partner.”

  Bellucci shook his head. “I don’t know about that,” he said. “If the guy never got involved with the family business, why would he do something illegal now?”

  “Money,” Boff said. ”Same reason pretty girls hook. It’s certainly conceivable Emilio got hosed in the market and was looking for a way to make back some tax-free cash.”

  “Isn’t it also possible,” Cullen said, “that Emilio just knew the owner and got comped?”

  “Yes, it is. So, like I said before, let’s not draw any conclusions yet.”

  As Boff pulled over at the gym to drop off the boxers for an early evening session, he turned back to Cullen. “By the way, Danny,” he said. “I asked Perez about Marla and her parents. He confirmed everything Marla told you.”

  “Well, I guess that makes me feel a bit better,” he said. “Maybe she really was a law student at Columbia. How do I find that out?”

  “Did she ever mention one of her professors’ names?”

  “Yes. This one teacher had taken an interest in her. Like an unofficial advisor. Blasi. Phillip Blasi. That was it.”

  “Call the college,” Boff said, “and say you’re a student and want to be connected to Blasi’s office. If he’s there, tell him you were Marla’s boyfriend. If you get voice mail, say the same thing and leave your mobile number so he can call you. If you can set up a meeting with this professor, then I’ll drive you to the college. He might know something that’d be useful for us. Assuming, of course, she really was a student at Columbia.”

  There were no parking spaces near the gym, so Boff double-parked and went inside with them. He had some questions for McAlary. The trainer was watching Big Alonzo hit the heavy bag. When he gave Alonzo a break, Boff walked over to him.

  “Ryan, who taped Rafael’s hands?”

  “Usually my assistant, Angel Sierra. Sometimes me. Why?”

  “Can I talk to Sierra?”

  McAlary turned to his assistant, who was watching a sparring session. “Angel, would you come here a second.”