The Killer Sex Game (A Frank Boff Mystery) by Nathan Gottlieb Read Free Book Online Page B

out of respect for his wife, never to defend rapists or child molesters, after talking with the son he was convinced the case against him wasn’t righteous. So he took it on and helped the son’s lawyer get an acquittal.
    The bartender glided over on long, shapely legs and set Perez’s drink down on the table. Perez put his hand on her arm. “Danny, Mikey, this is my youngest daughter, Ana.”
    Bellucci shot up out of his chair.
    “Ana! I’m Mikey Bellucci. Professional boxer and future world champion. Next time I’m in Union City, maybe, like, you and I, we could go out for lunch or dinner or something?”
    Ana smiled coyly. “Perhaps.” Then she headed back to her bar.
    Bellucci pressed both his hands to his heart. “Ah, marone , I’m in love.”
    Which made Perez laugh. “Stand in line Mikey,” he said. “ Ana’s a heartbreaker.”
    As soon as the food arrived, Bellucci dug right into his platter. “Awesome!” he said through a mouthful.
    Perez looked at Cullen, who had just cut off a piece of burger with roast pork and ham on top and tasted it. “And your burger, Danny?”
    Cullen gave him thumbs up. “Terrific.”
    Finally Perez turned to Boff. “So, Frank, what brings you here besides the best Cuban food north of Havana?”
    “I’m looking into the murder of a Cuban boxer. Rafael Oquendo.”
    Perez shook his head. “Such a tragedy,” he said. “He was the pride of Cuba. A legend. The whole community here in Union City is shaken. Who would do such a thing?”
    Boff put his fork down. “That’s what I’m trying to find out. The body was left on the sidewalk with a noted pinned to the shirt. You didn’t read about that because the police keep some details out of the newspapers just in case they get people who didn’t do it confessing to the murder. The note said, ‘ From now on, this is what happens to Cuban boxers who defect.’ So I’m wondering if you’d heard anything about a rogue Cuban gang doing Castro’s dirty work here.”
    Perez lowered his voice and leaned closer to Boff. “Frank. This is something you and I should discuss alone. Finish eating. Then we’ll go into my office. Mikey and Danny can sit at the bar and flirt with Ana.”
     
    After desert, Perez led Boff into his office and shut and locked the door. There were more framed photos of Cuban landscapes on the walls and a figurine of Jesus on the cross hanging above them. Sitting behind his desk, Perez opened a deep drawer and pulled out a bottle of amber-colored Havana Club rum and two small glasses.
    “Would you like some, Frank? It’s gran reserva . Aged fifteen years.”
    Boff held his thumb and index finger about an inch apart. “Just a sip.”
    After pouring the short shot, Perez handed the glass to Boff, then put a couple inches of rum into his own glass. He took a sip, nodded his approval, and leaned back in his leather chair.
    “First, Frank, you need a little background about Cuban Olympic boxers who defect. While some attain glory and riches in this country, the sad fact is far too many of them don’t. The main reason some great Cuban amateurs fail here is that the temptations of nightlife—especially in Miami—seduce the fighters. They had no experience dealing with freedom before. In Cuba, all they could do was train and compete. Here, there are a lot of things to do besides box.”
    He paused to sip some more rum. “Another problem for the defectors is when you put money in their pocket, they want to buy everything they couldn’t before. The ones who take to the fast life lose the edge they had as amateurs. And the results aren’t pretty. After failing as professionals, they tend to fall by the wayside. Some wind up in jail. Others succumb to drugs."
    Boff nodded. “Do you think Oquendo was one of those types who took to the fast lane?”
    “I honestly couldn’t say. But what I can say with some certainty is it’s highly unlikely there’s a Cuban hit squad operating in this country. It’d be