Sinner's Ball Read Online Free PDF Page B

called him, and he gave me her last known address. Hadn’t heard from her in over a month, he said. Wasn’t even sure she still lived there. Said if she didn’t check in soon, it was back to the slam.
    I told him I’d relay the message.
    The subway ride to the Lower East Side took under fifteen minutes.
    The address was a tired four-story building on Houston Street, a few blocks from the East River. A bodega occupied the ground floor. The building’s entrance was adjacent to the store.
    There weren’t any names on the mailboxes.
    I walked into the bodega and asked if anyone knew Dawn. The three people waiting to buy lottery tickets ignored me. But the counterman’s eyes moved to a heavy-set Hispanic guy in a motorcycle jacket and jeans sipping coffee from a paper cup. His face looked like it had been on the losing end of an argument with a bat.
    The Hispanic guy gave a slight nod.
    I made him for Dawn’s pimp.
    â€œThree B,” the counterman said.
    The pimp sidled up next to me.
    â€œWhat do you want with Dawny?”
    â€œNone of your business,” I said.
    â€œWasn’t the answer I was looking for.”
    His breath smelled of onions.
    â€œTry go fuck yourself.”
    He spent a few moments factoring in my size and attitude, calculating whether he had a reasonable shot.
    I found myself hoping he would conclude that the odds were in his favor.
    I have a thing about pimps.
    â€œYou a cop?” he finally said.
    â€œTake a hike,” I said, brushing past him. I expected I would see him again. Soon.
    I left the bodega and climbed three flights of stairs to Dawn’s apartment. The walls were festooned with some truly artless graffiti.
    I knocked on her door.
    A few seconds later I heard a hesitant “Yeah?”
    â€œIt’s Steeg.”
    The door opened a crack. Then her face appeared. Dawn had clearly overstayed her time in the business. Her hair was dull and lifeless, and her skin was the color of milk gone bad. The pigeon egg-sized purple lump on her left eyebrow kind of summed up the state of her life.
    â€œIt is you,” she said, breaking into a smile.
    â€œCan I come in?”
    She swung the door open.
    â€œSure,” she said. “Long time no see.”
    â€œLong time,” I agreed.
    The apartment was beyond depressing. A few sticks of mismatched furniture that had probably been scavenged from the street. And no little touches that made it a home.
    A young Hispanic woman with red streaks in her hair and letters tattooed on her fingers was slumped on the sofa. Her eyes were open but empty.
    â€œWho’s she?” I said.
    â€œGloria somethin’,” she said, with a sneer. “A new member of the family. Thinks she’s gonna be bottom bitch.”
    Gloria shot Dawn the bird and closed her eyes, mumbling, “Rickie’s tired of your scraggly ass.”
    â€œPiece of work,” I said.
    â€œNot worth talking about,” Dawn said.
    Dawn pulled the belt of a ratty cloth coat tight around her even rattier sweat suit.
    â€œI don’t like you seein’ me like this,” she said.
    â€œIt’s OK. We’re friends, Dawn.”
    â€œHow’d you find me?”
    â€œYour PO. Said he hadn’t heard from you in a while.”
    â€œYou’re here to bust me?”
    â€œNope. Not a cop anymore.”
    â€œThen what brings you here?”
    â€œWe’ll get to that. What happened to your eye?”
    Her fingers moved to her eyebrow. “Had to pee in the middle of the night and walked into a door.” She tried for a smile. “Always was clumsy.”
    â€œThe scumbag I ran into down in the bodega have anything to do with it?”
    â€œWho’re you talkin’ about?”
    â€œThe guy with the scrambled face.”
    â€œRickie? No. He’s good. Takes care of me.”
    â€œI can see that.”
    â€œNo. You got it all wrong. We’re gonna get married. Gloria