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

at. It was inside a Stop & Shop supermarket just a mile from the promoter’s home.
    “ Gary’s easy to spot,” Bellucci said as they walked through the store. “He’ll be the guy wearing the nylon sweat suit with one hand holding a donut, the other holding a phone to his ear. That’s all Gary wears. Sweat suits. He must have, like, dozens of ’em. I’ve never see him in the same one twice.”
    They found Shaw as advertised. He was a heavyset man in his fifties with a thick mane of silver hair and a rosy complexion. He used his donut hand to wave them over to his table while he continued talking on the phone.
    “You know what I am, Dan?” Shaw was saying into the phone as they sat down. “I’m a farm system for Oscar de la Hoya and Golden Boy Promotions. I develop the kids from scratch, make them contenders and champions, and then Oscar steals them from me when they become free agents. And do you know why he does that? Because Oscar doesn’t have a clue how to develop a prospect. Zippo. … Damn right, you can quote me on that.”
    Hanging up, he smiled at Bellucci. “Good ta see you, Mikey.” Putting his donut down, the promoter rubbed the powdered sugar off on his pants and shook Mikey’s hand. “So. What brings you to my humble abode?”
    Bellucci pointed to Boff. “The big guy here is Frank Boff, a private investigator who’s looking into Rafael’s murder.” He pointed to Cullen. “The ugly guy here is—”
    “No introductions necessary,” Shaw said. “Danny Cullen, I’ve had my eye on you from the time you turned pro. I was just getting ready to sign you when Lou DiBella beat me to the punch. I was a big fan of your father’s. He’s the one that inspired me to get into boxing.”
    After Shaw shook hands with Boff and Cullen, he turned back to his boxer. “Mikey, go order a box of donuts and four coffees,” he said. “Tell Amy—she’s the gal at the counter—to put it on my tab.” Then he turned to Boff. “I may be the only person in America who has a running tab at a Dunkin’ Donuts.” He chuckled at his own joke. “So, Frank, do you know what happens if I don’t come in here for three straight days? The manager files a missing person’s report with the cops. I shit you not.”
    Before Bellucci could get away, Shaw grabbed his arm. “I recommend the Bavarian Kreme, chocolate and vanilla Kreme-filled, and Boston Kreme. They’re the thoroughbreds.” He brandished the donut he was eating. “That being said, I’m also a sucker for the old standby. The jelly. But it’s messy. My wife really gets on me when I come home from work with jelly stains on my clothes.”
    With a nod, Bellucci walked over to the counter to order.
    Shaw put down his donut, his face suddenly grim. “Frank, when I heard Rafael was killed, it tore me up. As Mikey probably told you, I break the number one rule for promoters. I fall in love with my fighters.”
    Boff nodded. “ Gary, did you have any inkling Rafael may have gotten into some kind of trouble?”
    The promoter shook his head. “None whatsoever. If I had, I woulda stepped in to help him.”
    When Bellucci returned with a box of donuts and four coffees and set them down, Shaw polished off the last of his jelly donut, then lifted the box’s lid and peeked inside. “Ahhh….I see you picked a couple of chocolate glazed.” He reached inside. “Mind if I have one?”
    “Hey, you’re paying for it,” Bellucci said.
    “In more ways than one.” Shaw patted his ample belly. Then he snared the glazed donut and took a healthy bite.
    Boff grabbed a Boston Kreme, Bellucci, a jelly, and weight-conscious Cullen could only stare longingly at the box. “Gary,” he said, “I don’t suppose they have a diet donut. Do they?”
    Shaw shrugged. “If they do, I never heard of it. And trust me. I can recite all fifty-two varieties. Why don’t you try the reduced-fat blueberry muffin? Me? I wouldn’t be caught dead eating one , but you might like