Free The Killer Sex Game (A Frank Boff Mystery) by Nathan Gottlieb Page A

difficult for a judge to fix a case if he has an honest clerk.”
    “So you’re saying I could be putting myself at risk?”
    “Yes. That’s exactly what I am saying.”
    Marla frowned. “Man, I really want to nail this guy. There’s got to be some way of doing it without putting myself in danger.”
    Blasi took a minute to think about this. “Well, you could tell the clerk you’re a law student at Columbia doing a school paper on whether Brooklyn judges are overloaded with cases. Maybe if you show him your college ID, the clerk might not get suspicious.”
    Blasi stood up. “Soda?”
    “Diet, if you have it.”
    The professor walked to a mini-refrigerator, brought back two Diet Cokes, handed one to her, set the other on his desk, and sat back down. Clasping his hands in front of him, he brought them under his chin and stared at her a minute before speaking.
    “The best lawyers, Marla, are the ones who can distance themselves from their cases and not let emotion cloud reason.”
    “I know that.”
    “Do you? What about what you told me happened to your father?”
    “That was a long time ago.”
    “Yes, it was,” Blasi said. “But I’m still wondering if your father’s death is influencing you in this matter with the judge.”
    “I can assure you, professor—”
    He cut her off. “Let me finish. Let’s take a closer look at the evidence before us. One, you chose a thesis about judicial corruption in Brooklyn. Two, when you overhear what might be a judge talking about a bribe, you plow right in without any thought of the possible consequences to yourself. And three? My summation for the jury would be that this smacks of a lawyer on a mission related to her father’s death.”
    At this, Marla bristled. “I’m not on a mission,” she said. “I just want to do the right thing.”
    Blasi unfolded his hands, placed them flat on his desk, and leaned forward.
    “You came for my advice,” he said. “So here it is. I strongly suggest you don’t pursue this. It’s fraught with danger.” He leaned back. “However, if you do decide to continue, please keep me in the loop about what you’re doing. I’d especially be interested in your impression of the clerk’s face after you asked to see the judge’s docket. Would you do that for me?”
    “If I proceed on this, yes, I will make sure that I consult with you.” Marla stood up. “Thanks for taking the time to speak with me. I’ll think this through carefully and not make a rash decision.”
    “Good. Now get along before you’re late for your next class. Professor Bahrenburg is not as tolerant as I am with tardy students.”

Chapter 13
     
    As promised, Boff took Cullen and Bellucci to lunch at their favorite place, Cheffy’s Jamaican Cuisine, a no-frills restaurant in Crown Heights the size of a diner. They each ordered cow-foot and pigeon peas soup to start. At Cheffy’s recommendation, they all also went for the day’s special, a jerk-rubbed whole mackerel sautéed in a hot vinegar sauce.
    After the soup arrived, Boff said, “Mikey, I want to meet your promoter, Gary Shaw.”
    “No problem.” Putting his soup spoon down, Bellucci pulled out his phone and speed dialed. “Larry, this is Mikey. Is the boss there?”
    Whatever Larry said, it made him laugh. “Which one? ... Okay, thanks. By the way, I really liked that press release you wrote about me. It got good play on the Internet.”
    After hanging up and putting his phone away, he looked at Boff. “That was Gary’s publicist. He said the boss was working out of his second office today.” He laughed again. “Meaning, anywhere they have a Dunkin’ Donuts.”
    “Well, there are a lot of those around,” Boff said.
    “Yeah, there are. But… there’s only one Dunkin’ Donuts where Gary has a table reserved for him twenty-four/seven.”
     
    Because Shaw lived in Wayne, New Jersey, about thirty miles from New York, Boff used MapQuest to find the Dunkin’ Donuts Mikey said Shaw was