The Punishing Game by Nathan Gottlieb

turned to a nearby cop working on a computer. “Who’s that in the captain’s office?” he said.
    The cop looked up. “Burgess got bumped up and moved to the Puzzle Palace. He’ll have shiny brass assholes to lick there. That’s his replacement, Captain Stipansky. Another fucking bureaucrat. But meaner, so I hear.”
    Colligan shook his head. “Great. Just what we needed.”
    “Stipansky said when you two jokers came in, to report to his office. Have fun!”
    “Well,” Monetti said sourly, “this should suck. Now we have to learn how to deal with a new asshole.”
    They walked over to the captain’s glass door and stood quietly until Stipansky, who was looking through a file cabinet, saw them and waved them in.
    “Take a seat.”
    As they pulled over a couple chairs, Stipansky took a folder out of the cabinet, brought it to his desk, and sat down. In his early forties and sporting a military buzz cut, Stipansky had a craggy face that was devoid of humor. He didn’t offer to shake hands.
    “Update me on what you two have been working on,” was all he said.
    When Monetti was done filling him in, the captain asked, “Do you have anything concrete?”
    Colligan shrugged his shoulders. “We’re not sure,” he said. “Some kind of deal may be going down. Somebody could get whacked because of it. It appears to involve a shell corporation. Probably tax evasion. Securities fraud.”
    Stipansky pursed his lips. “That’s not our game,” he said after a minute. “Somebody getting whacked is. Can you tell me for sure a hit is being planned?”
    “No, we can’t.”
    “I appreciate honesty from my men,” the captain said. “Make that expect it . You’ll get the same from me. I want you to shit-can this surveillance.” The captain picked up the folder he had taken from the cabinet. “I have something more important I want you to work on.”
    “Good,” Monetti said. “If you ask me, Burgess didn’t have squat.”
    “I didn’t ask you. Around here, I ask the questions.” He pointed the folder at them. “We’ve got a Hispanic doctor up here whose clients are rich Latinos in the entertainment business. The quack is churning out prescriptions for uppers, downers, steroids, and any other crap they ask for like its candy. I want his license. You’re going to get it.”
    The captain held the folder out to Colligan, who took it. “Monetti,” the captain said, “bring me your surveillance notes and tapes.”
    As Colligan opened the folder, Monetti left the office. He returned a few minutes later with a folder and a bag of tapes from their surveillance. He set these on the desk. Stipansky didn’t even look at them.
    “Captain,” Monetti said, “do you think we should turn the tapes over to the AG?”
    Stipansky waved the suggestion off. “The AG is a rich political hack who’s probably going to be our next governor. But he won’t get to the Executive Mansion with help from me. From now on, you two eat, sleep, and breathe this slimeball doctor.”
    The captain finally picked up the folder and tapes, but instead of looking at them, he dropped them in his garbage pail.
    “Case closed,” he said.
     

Chapter 15
     
    Cullen and Bellucci were expecting to see Boff when they left the gym the next morning, but he was nowhere in sight.
    “Hey,” Bellucci said as they went down the stairs. “So where is he?”
    Cullen smiled. “You sound disappointed. You’re really taking an interest in this.”
    “Damn right. I want payback for Nino.” Bellucci hesitated. “Plus I hate to admit it, but I like being around Boff.”
    “Really?”
    “Yeah. He’s sort of cool in a very un-cool way. Let’s wait ten minutes.”
    Ten turned into twenty.
    “Man, where do you think he is?” Bellucci asked.
    “My guess? Exploring the Dark Side.”
    “You mean like in Star Wars ?”
    “Sort of. Only instead of Imperial Storm Troopers, Boff likes to mingle with his underworld friends. That’s, like, mobsters, drug