Bellucci leaned close to Cullen. “What kind of food does this yo-yo like to eat?”
“Anything,” Cullen replied. “Especially junk food. He’s big on Mexican and Chinese takeout. I once saw him put ketchup on spare ribs.”
“Get outta here! That’s disgusting.”
“He also crumpled two fortune cookies on top of his chow mein.”
Bellucci laughed. “Then I’m going to take him to a place where a white bread guy like him won’t want to eat.” Bellucci leaned forward. “Hey, Boff, let’s go to Cheffy’s. It’s near the gym and has great Jamaican food. I’ll give you directions.”
Cheffy’s Cuisine was a homey restaurant on Nostrand Avenue about the size of a diner. The air was fragrant with jerk spice, cinnamon, and garlic. Obviously a regular, Bellucci shook hands with a few customers before they sat down. A pretty waitress brought over menus.
“Hi, Mikey,” she said. She looked at Boff. “Who’s your tall friend?”
Bellucci shook his head. “He’s not with us, Mattie. Just some guy followed us in and sat at our table. Can you believe that?”
Mattie gave Boff a hostile stare. “There are other tables, sir.”
Boff put on his best smile. “I’m fine right here.”
When Mattie looked perplexed, Bellucci said, “Just ignore him, honey.”
She gave Boff another dirty look and left for another table. As Boff picked up the menu and opened it, Cullen and Bellucci watched his face carefully to see his reaction.
“Ooh, they’ve got curried goat,” he said. “I love that! And codfish and callaloo. Another favorite.” He looked over the menu at Bellucci. “How did you know I like Jamaican food?”
The kid smirked. “You do, huh? Then why don’t we start with cow-foot and pigeon peas soup.”
Boff looked heavenward. “Thank you, Lord.”
“You want me to have Mattie bring a barf bag with your order?” Bellucci asked.
Boff looked surprised. “Why? My stomach is fine.”
Bellucci pulled out his wallet, extracted a five, and slapped it down on the table. “Five bucks says you don’t know what callaloo is.”
Boff smiled. “Put it way, son. I don’t take money from kids.”
“I’m no kid. Let’s see your fiver.”
Boff shrugged, took a five dollar bill out of his wallet, and laid it on top of Bellucci’s five. Then, as if reciting from memory, he said, “Callaloo is a leafy vegetable, traditionally either amaranth or taro. It’s a very popular dish in Jamaica. I also hear they like it in Guyana and Haiti.”
“How the fuck.…?”
“In my previous life as a DEA agent, I spent a lot of time in the Caribbean chasing Jamaican drug dealers.” Boff pocketed the two fives.
Bellucci frowned and shook his head, obviously pissed at himself, then suddenly broke out laughing. “Oh, man, you sure suckered Mikey,” he said. “Not many people can do that.”
“One of my many talents,” Boff said modestly.
When Mattie came back, she gave Boff another frosty look and took their orders.
“Boff, you did a nice number on Damiano,” Bellucci said. “She’s a bitch. Always ragging on Mikey because of his hair. She lives on the same block as me.”
“Damiano’s actually a pretty good detective,” Boff said. “But I hated showing her up.”
“Like hell,” Cullen said.
“Well, maybe I enjoyed it just a little. So what do you think of my theory now, Danny? The Jamaicans admitted they were tight with the Bloods and hadn’t cancelled a party with them next month. The shots allegedly fired at them all hit below their feet. And you saw how fast they can pull guns when they really want to.”
Cullen shook his head. “I’m still not convinced. When you give me one good reason why the Bloods would want to kill me , then maybe I might start taking you seriously.”
“Actually, they didn’t want to kill you. At least not on a personal level. I believe they were hired by someone to do it. And they undoubtedly got the Jamaicans to play along by sharing some of the
“Anything,” Cullen replied. “Especially junk food. He’s big on Mexican and Chinese takeout. I once saw him put ketchup on spare ribs.”
“Get outta here! That’s disgusting.”
“He also crumpled two fortune cookies on top of his chow mein.”
Bellucci laughed. “Then I’m going to take him to a place where a white bread guy like him won’t want to eat.” Bellucci leaned forward. “Hey, Boff, let’s go to Cheffy’s. It’s near the gym and has great Jamaican food. I’ll give you directions.”
Cheffy’s Cuisine was a homey restaurant on Nostrand Avenue about the size of a diner. The air was fragrant with jerk spice, cinnamon, and garlic. Obviously a regular, Bellucci shook hands with a few customers before they sat down. A pretty waitress brought over menus.
“Hi, Mikey,” she said. She looked at Boff. “Who’s your tall friend?”
Bellucci shook his head. “He’s not with us, Mattie. Just some guy followed us in and sat at our table. Can you believe that?”
Mattie gave Boff a hostile stare. “There are other tables, sir.”
Boff put on his best smile. “I’m fine right here.”
When Mattie looked perplexed, Bellucci said, “Just ignore him, honey.”
She gave Boff another dirty look and left for another table. As Boff picked up the menu and opened it, Cullen and Bellucci watched his face carefully to see his reaction.
“Ooh, they’ve got curried goat,” he said. “I love that! And codfish and callaloo. Another favorite.” He looked over the menu at Bellucci. “How did you know I like Jamaican food?”
The kid smirked. “You do, huh? Then why don’t we start with cow-foot and pigeon peas soup.”
Boff looked heavenward. “Thank you, Lord.”
“You want me to have Mattie bring a barf bag with your order?” Bellucci asked.
Boff looked surprised. “Why? My stomach is fine.”
Bellucci pulled out his wallet, extracted a five, and slapped it down on the table. “Five bucks says you don’t know what callaloo is.”
Boff smiled. “Put it way, son. I don’t take money from kids.”
“I’m no kid. Let’s see your fiver.”
Boff shrugged, took a five dollar bill out of his wallet, and laid it on top of Bellucci’s five. Then, as if reciting from memory, he said, “Callaloo is a leafy vegetable, traditionally either amaranth or taro. It’s a very popular dish in Jamaica. I also hear they like it in Guyana and Haiti.”
“How the fuck.…?”
“In my previous life as a DEA agent, I spent a lot of time in the Caribbean chasing Jamaican drug dealers.” Boff pocketed the two fives.
Bellucci frowned and shook his head, obviously pissed at himself, then suddenly broke out laughing. “Oh, man, you sure suckered Mikey,” he said. “Not many people can do that.”
“One of my many talents,” Boff said modestly.
When Mattie came back, she gave Boff another frosty look and took their orders.
“Boff, you did a nice number on Damiano,” Bellucci said. “She’s a bitch. Always ragging on Mikey because of his hair. She lives on the same block as me.”
“Damiano’s actually a pretty good detective,” Boff said. “But I hated showing her up.”
“Like hell,” Cullen said.
“Well, maybe I enjoyed it just a little. So what do you think of my theory now, Danny? The Jamaicans admitted they were tight with the Bloods and hadn’t cancelled a party with them next month. The shots allegedly fired at them all hit below their feet. And you saw how fast they can pull guns when they really want to.”
Cullen shook his head. “I’m still not convinced. When you give me one good reason why the Bloods would want to kill me , then maybe I might start taking you seriously.”
“Actually, they didn’t want to kill you. At least not on a personal level. I believe they were hired by someone to do it. And they undoubtedly got the Jamaicans to play along by sharing some of the
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