Read Online The Killer Sex Game (A Frank Boff Mystery) by Nathan Gottlieb - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Nathan Gottlieb
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it overhead, and then slammed it onto the rubber. After he had pounded the damn thing fifteen times, he tossed the sledgehammer away, grabbed a water bottle and a towel, and shot his trainer a dirty look as he walked past him toward Boff.
“Danny, look on the bright side,” Boff said. “If you crap out as a boxer, you can always find work hauling kegs around at a brewery. Excuse me a moment.”
With Cullen tailing him, Boff walked over to McAlary, who was standing by the ring taking his own Gatorade break.
“Ryan,” Boff said, “I’d like to get Gina’s cell phone number.”
The trainer shook his head. “No way. I don’t want you bothering her.”
“I have absolutely no interest in calling Gina. I just need the number to help me get a look at the calls she made and received recently.”
McAlary sucked down some Gatorade. “And why is that?”
“I have reason to believe Rafael may have been cheating on her. From experience, I know that jealous wives have been known to hire someone to kill their husband.” Boff spread his hands. “That being said, I don’t think it’s the case here. But I still need the number.”
McAlary pointed his Gatorade bottle at Boff. “Gina is not the type to kill anyone,” he said. “Especially the father of her daughter.”
“I’m sure that’s true. But in my line of work, I can tell you with some certainty that killers come in all shapes and sizes. Male and female. If I have Gina’s phone records, it’ll help me determine if I can eliminate her as a suspect.”
After another swig of Gatorade, the trainer told him the number. Boff wrote it down on his pad.
“Now I have to get back to my training,” McAlary said. He pointed a finger at Boff. “You make sure you don’t start calling her. Understand?”
“You have my word. And, uh, one last thing before you go.”
McAlary frowned. “What now?”
“I was wondering if Rafael ever had days in the gym when he seemed like he wasn’t all there. Like, maybe, he’d been out late the night before and had been drinking.”
McAlary thought about this. “Well, a few times, I guess. But he always got himself up to speed by mid-session. Why do you ask?”
“I’m just curious to know if he led a night life.”
The trainer let out a weary sigh. “Look, Boff, the only thing I can tell you for certain about Rafael is that he worked his butt off here. What he did outside the gym, I wouldn’t know. I don’t keep tabs on my boxers.”
Cullen stepped forward . “That’s certainly news to me.”
McAlary turned to him. “You, my friend, are a special case.”
“Why’s that?”
McAlary looked at Boff, then back at Cullen. “You have too many distractions.”
As the trainer walked away, Boff nodded toward the front door. “Danny, let’s step out on the stairs for a minute. The smell in here is unusually ripe today.”
On the landing outside the door, Boff told Cullen about his conversation with Gina. He also admonished him for telling the widow about his frontier justice.
“Well, I agree with Ryan,” the boxer replied. “It’s hard to picture Gina as a killer.”
“And like I told Ryan, she probably isn’t. But if Rafael was a womanizer—as I suspect he was—he could’ve pissed off a jealous husband or a boyfriend.”
“I’m not sure I buy that without more proof.”
“Fine. Tell me something. Do you know if Rafael had money to burn?”
Cullen nodded. “Yes, he did. But not from fighting. He’d had only one professional bout. But he got a decent shoe contract with Adidas and endorsed Cuban-made rum. The bulk of his cash came from his promoter, Gary Shaw. Gary gave him a half-million dollar signing bonus.”
“A half million, huh? That’s a lot of money for a boxer who didn’t get paid anything in Cuba.”
“So? What’s your point?”
“My point is that it’s possible Rafael had trouble handling his sudden wealth. Young athletes in all sports have experienced problems with sudden
“Danny, look on the bright side,” Boff said. “If you crap out as a boxer, you can always find work hauling kegs around at a brewery. Excuse me a moment.”
With Cullen tailing him, Boff walked over to McAlary, who was standing by the ring taking his own Gatorade break.
“Ryan,” Boff said, “I’d like to get Gina’s cell phone number.”
The trainer shook his head. “No way. I don’t want you bothering her.”
“I have absolutely no interest in calling Gina. I just need the number to help me get a look at the calls she made and received recently.”
McAlary sucked down some Gatorade. “And why is that?”
“I have reason to believe Rafael may have been cheating on her. From experience, I know that jealous wives have been known to hire someone to kill their husband.” Boff spread his hands. “That being said, I don’t think it’s the case here. But I still need the number.”
McAlary pointed his Gatorade bottle at Boff. “Gina is not the type to kill anyone,” he said. “Especially the father of her daughter.”
“I’m sure that’s true. But in my line of work, I can tell you with some certainty that killers come in all shapes and sizes. Male and female. If I have Gina’s phone records, it’ll help me determine if I can eliminate her as a suspect.”
After another swig of Gatorade, the trainer told him the number. Boff wrote it down on his pad.
“Now I have to get back to my training,” McAlary said. He pointed a finger at Boff. “You make sure you don’t start calling her. Understand?”
“You have my word. And, uh, one last thing before you go.”
McAlary frowned. “What now?”
“I was wondering if Rafael ever had days in the gym when he seemed like he wasn’t all there. Like, maybe, he’d been out late the night before and had been drinking.”
McAlary thought about this. “Well, a few times, I guess. But he always got himself up to speed by mid-session. Why do you ask?”
“I’m just curious to know if he led a night life.”
The trainer let out a weary sigh. “Look, Boff, the only thing I can tell you for certain about Rafael is that he worked his butt off here. What he did outside the gym, I wouldn’t know. I don’t keep tabs on my boxers.”
Cullen stepped forward . “That’s certainly news to me.”
McAlary turned to him. “You, my friend, are a special case.”
“Why’s that?”
McAlary looked at Boff, then back at Cullen. “You have too many distractions.”
As the trainer walked away, Boff nodded toward the front door. “Danny, let’s step out on the stairs for a minute. The smell in here is unusually ripe today.”
On the landing outside the door, Boff told Cullen about his conversation with Gina. He also admonished him for telling the widow about his frontier justice.
“Well, I agree with Ryan,” the boxer replied. “It’s hard to picture Gina as a killer.”
“And like I told Ryan, she probably isn’t. But if Rafael was a womanizer—as I suspect he was—he could’ve pissed off a jealous husband or a boyfriend.”
“I’m not sure I buy that without more proof.”
“Fine. Tell me something. Do you know if Rafael had money to burn?”
Cullen nodded. “Yes, he did. But not from fighting. He’d had only one professional bout. But he got a decent shoe contract with Adidas and endorsed Cuban-made rum. The bulk of his cash came from his promoter, Gary Shaw. Gary gave him a half-million dollar signing bonus.”
“A half million, huh? That’s a lot of money for a boxer who didn’t get paid anything in Cuba.”
“So? What’s your point?”
“My point is that it’s possible Rafael had trouble handling his sudden wealth. Young athletes in all sports have experienced problems with sudden
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