Sinner's Ball by Ira Berkowitz Read Free Book Online Page A

mother?”
    He stopped and turned around.
    His voice was icy. “She had her shot, and left. He needed her and she walked.”
    â€œMaybe she needed him and your father came up short.”
    â€œScrew you!” he said.
    I reached for him. To throw my arms around him and tell him I understood what he was going through. Tell him not to let my brother screw up his life the way Dominic screwed up Dave’s.
    â€œAnthony …”
    I never saw it coming.
    There wasn’t any pain. Just a shock that started high up on my temple and traveled down to my knees, driving me to the ground.
    When I was able to focus, I saw Anthony standing over me. His face was contorted with rage.
    â€œI warned you,” he said. “Don’t you ever put your hands on me again.”

9
    A nother Chance was housed in a brownstone on the Upper East Side. A low, wrought iron fence topped with artichoke finials bounded two tiny snow-covered gardens on either side of the stairway.
    At the entrance, a small black sign with white letters instructed me to ring the bell.
    I did. A few moments later the door opened. Two burly guys with buzz cuts—one a few inches taller than the other—greeted me.
    â€œWhat can I do for you?” the taller one said. The skin on his face was steroid-tight.
    â€œI’m here to see Martine Toussaint.”
    â€œGot an appointment?”
    â€œDidn’t know I needed one.”
    â€œWho referred you?”
    â€œNo one. Just need to ask her a few questions.”
    â€œAbout what?”
    This was getting tiresome.
    I gave him my card. “Tell her I’d like a few minutes of her time.”
    He glanced at the card. “She know you?”
    â€œJust do it,” I said.
    He considered that for a few seconds. “Wait here,” he finally said.
    The door closed.
    A few minutes later he was back.
    â€œShe’ll see you.”
    â€œTerrific.”
    The reception area was small but comfortably furnished. The recessed lighting in the ceiling bathed the room in a muted glow. Shorter Guy sat on the arm of a sofa and eyed me as we passed through.
    I followed Tall Guy down a short corridor to Martine Toussaint’s office. The best word to describe it was
sleek
.
    Hardwood floor buffed to a high shine, chrome-and-leather furniture, modern art on the walls. Martine, a dreadlocked beauty with skin the color of cocoa, sat behind a glass-topped desk dealing out a hand of tarot cards.
    My first impression was that there was a hell of a disconnect between Martine Toussaint’s digs and her charitable work.
    She laid the cards down and stood up.
    â€œSteeg,” she said, with a smile. “Come in.”
    â€œYou want me to sit in?” Tall Guy said.
    â€œNot necessary, Frank. Mr. Steeg is an acquaintance. Although it’s obvious he doesn’t remember me.”
    She was right. I didn’t.
    â€œOK,” Frank said. “I’ll be out front if you need me.”
    â€œHelp me out here, Martine,” I said. “How do we know each other?”
    â€œYou’re a cop in Hell’s Kitchen. I was a whore in the same place. We know the same people.”
    â€œAnd they would be?”
    â€œDawn Reposo, for one.”
    I nodded. “She worked the neighborhood.”
    â€œAnd all the girls envied her.”
    â€œWhy’s that?”
    â€œYou were her personal Get Out of Jail Free card. Wish I had an angel on my shoulder like you.” She paused. “Seen her lately?”
    â€œNo. Think of her every now and again, though.”
    â€œWhy the visit?”
    â€œI’ll get to that. How’d you manage to wind up here?”
    She gathered the cards up, shuffled them, and, one by one, laid them out on the desktop.
    â€œLong story, Steeg. Let’s just say I got righteous. And used the brains God gave me.”
    â€œNow you’re helping other girls get just as righteous.”
    Her gaze drifted to the tarot cards,