The Payback Game Read Free Page B

reporter. “The killer could’ve been somebody who Doyle targeted in his columns, right, Cassidy?”
    “That’s certainly possible,” the old man said. “But Hannah thinks otherwise.”
    “Why’s that?”
    “Why?” The redhead leaned forward. “Here’s why. Two days before Nicky was killed, I had lunch with him in a Brooklyn restaurant near where I live….”
    Cullen cut her off. “Brooklyn? What section?”
    “Crown Heights.”
    At this, t he boxer, who also lived in Crown Heights, put on his best smile. “Well, then, that makes us neighbors.”
    Showing no reaction , Hannah continued. “Mr. Boff, shortly before Nicky was killed, he told me he’d been working for a couple of weeks on a potentially explosive story an informant had tipped him off to. He said it was about a murder disguised as a heart attack.”
    Again, the investigative wheels turned involuntarily in Boff’s head. “A shot of potassium chloride could do that,” he said. “Who was the victim of this so-called murder?”
    “A detective,” Hannah replied. “In Brooklyn’s 71 st Precinct. His name was Patrick Maloney. So Nicky, working off the info from his snitch, did a little digging around and found out that the cop was only forty-two, worked out six days a week, and there was no history of heart disease in his family.” She looked at Cassidy, then back at Boff. “Uncle Mike and I both believe Nicky was killed because he was asking questions about the dead cop.” She leaned back in the booth and took a sip on her ale, waiting for a reaction from Boff.
    Still on investigator cruise control, Boff said, “Did Doyle tell you the name of the informant?”
    “Yes, and I met with him,” Hannah replied. “He was one of several informants in the five boroughs Nicky paid well for quality info. The snitch lived in the same neighborhood as the cop. Late one night, while the informant was playing cards with some friends on a stoop, he noticed that after Maloney walked past the game, someone was tailing him.” She paused to sip the last of her ale. “So the snitch folded his cards and followed the stranger. A few minutes after Maloney went into his apartment building, the lights in a dark, second-floor apartment facing the street came on. The tail made a quick phone call, then used what was probably a lock pick to get into the building.”
    H er bottle empty, she grabbed Cassidy’s mug and took a sip before continuing. “Less than a minute after the tail broke into Maloney’s building, the lights in that apartment went off. Right after that, the tail rushed out and hopped into a Land Rover that had just pulled up without its headlights on. The Land Rover then took off fast, still without its lights on.”
    “Did the snitch get the license plate?” Boff asked.
    Hannah shook her head. “He couldn’t. Not with the car’s lights off.”
    Boff had yet to take a sip of his Coke. He did so now. Then he said, “How reliable is this snitch?”
    “As good as they come,” Hannah replied. “Nicky always checked out his people thoroughly before hiring them. The informant figured from the way the tail left the building and hopped into the Land Rover, something bad had gone down in that apartment. So the next day, he checked the newspapers for a story about the cop being murdered. There was nothing in either the News or the Post about it. Puzzled, on a hunch, he looked at obits.”
    “And the cop was there,” Boff said.
    “You got it. Cause of death was listed as a heart attack.”
    Boff nodded. “And because it was a heart attack,” he said, “the police didn’t bother investigating.”
    “That’s right.”
    At this point, Boff was mildly interested. He looked at Cassidy. “I’ve got a question for you. You’re known as a big friend of cops. How come you don’t let them find Nicky’s killer? Why hire me, whom you obviously don’t like?”
    “Why? Let me tell you something about cops, Boff. They come in all shapes and sizes.