Sinner's Ball by Ira Berkowitz

at Rikers he had lost something off his culinary fastball. The eggs were rubbery enough to re-sole sneakers, the pancakes hard as hockey pucks, and the bacon left splinters in your gums. Attuned to the vagaries of dining at Feeney’s, Luce brought her own coffee and a bag of donuts.
    She looked at my plate with a peeled eye. “How do you eat this crap every day?” she said.
    â€œIt’s like buying a lottery ticket. You know in your bones you’re going to lose, but there’s always the possibility that you’re going to walk off with a steamer trunk full of dough.”
    â€œDid you ever have a meal here that gave you that feeling?”
    I shook my head.
    â€œIt’s what keeps me coming back.”
    She reached into her handbag, came out with three file folders, and passed them to me.
    â€œHere’s what we have on your vics.”
    I quickly went through them. One lived in New Jersey, in a town just north of the George Washington Bridge. Worked in a youth center. An uncle was listed as next of kin. Another lived in Queens with his mother. And the third, a postal employee, hailed from Bay Ridge, Brooklyn. Tutor. No next of kin. All were Caucasian, single, and in their fifties. I figured I’d start in New Jersey and work my way in, saving Brooklyn for my last stop. That way I could check in on Justin.
    â€œNot much,” I said. “Why only three?”
    â€œBesides Martin Donnelly, all we’ve identified so far. The rest were pretty much carbon stains and bones. May take a little longer.”
    â€œAnd no one interviewed their friends and neighbors.”
    â€œI guess their dance calendars were full.”
    â€œLooks like I’ve got my work cut out for me.”
    My cell phone rang.
    The conversation took less than thirty seconds.
    â€œI’ve got to go,” I said.
    â€œWhat’s up?”
    â€œFranny, Dave’s wife, is in town. Wants me to meet her.”
    â€œEverything all right?”
    â€œDidn’t sound it.”
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    F ranny’s hotel was small and sleek, and just off Houston Street on the Lower East Side. I found her nursing a glass of white wine at the bar. The bartender stood off to the side pretending to be busy.
    Franny had an off-kilter beauty and worked hard at looking good. But the lines around her mouth had deepened into a road map of life with my brother.
    â€œThanks for coming,” she said. “I really appreciate it. Can I get you a Diet Coke or something?”
    I shook my head.
    Her skin had a golden hue.
    â€œI’m good,” I said. “Nice tan.”
    â€œIt’s what Florida’s famous for. But the sun kicks the hell out of your skin.”
    â€œHow are the girls?”
    She took a small sip of her wine.
    â€œThey’re fine,” she said. “But it’s a big adjustment. They miss their father. Their friends. You know the drill.”
    â€œI do.”
    â€œYou still with Allie?”
    â€œLong as she’ll have me.”
    â€œI still regret that crack I made about her being Jewish. That wasn’t me, Steeg.”
    Franny and my ex-wife, Ginny, were pretty close. And Franny harbored this fantasy of us getting back together again. The problem was that Ginny was two marriages removed from ours, and I was now spoken for. ButFranny, ever the optimist, always held out hope. And took her disappointment out on Allie.
    â€œWe all say stupid things we regret,” I said. “It’s over, kiddo. And all’s right with the world.”
    â€œYou mean it?”
    Not for a minute. But sometimes you have to give family a pass.
    â€œI do,” I said. “So, what brings you back to our not so fair city?”
    â€œMeeting with my lawyer. Got a bunch of things to workout.”
    â€œDave know you’re here?”
    â€œNo, and you’re not going to tell him. That’s why I picked a spot as far away from the