Cohen wet his lips. “Carol, how did Jimmy and Frige seem to you last night?”

“Don’t know what you mean” she said.

Cohen smiled. “I think you’re sharper than you let on, Carol.”

“Sharp enough to live in an alley, turn tricks, and inject crap into myself day and night,” she grunted. Then she raised her head slightly. “You wouldn’t know it, but I graduated college.”

“I’m not surprised,” Cohen said. In his work, he had come across doctors and lawyers who had ended up in the same alley, slaves to the same chemicals. “How were Jimmy and Frige acting last night? Did they strike you as nervous? Pissed off? Looking for someone?”

Her mouth opened and she started to speak, but she stopped abruptly.

Leetch leaned forward as if he might grab her, but his hands stayed by his side. “What is it, Carol?”

“They wanted to know if I’d seen anyone new around,” she said quietly and looked away.

“As in a new dealer?” Leetch asked with a raised eyebrow.

She nodded to the ground.

“What did you tell them?”

“No.”

Cohen wagged a finger at her and smiled again. “But you had, Carol, hadn’t you?”

Her head drifted forward and her eyes fell to the ground as if she might nod off. “Two, three nights ago, this guy came around. Offered me a free eightball. Called it a ‘sample’. Told me he was setting up shop in the neighborhood.”

“What did he look like?” Cohen asked.

“Like all of them.” She shrugged. “Cheap. Flashy. Dangerous.”

“You’re not helping me with my sketch artist.” Leetch held out his palms and wiggled his fingers. “Draw me a picture, Carol,” he coaxed.

She looked up at Leetch but pointed to Cohen. “Kind of like him. Tall, thin, and good-looking in that dark way. But he wore this shiny track suit and a thick gold chain.”

Leetch uttered a grumble of laughter and elbowed Cohen in the midsection. “You ought to get a load of Seth in his track suit and chains. Absolutely adorable.” He turned back to Carol, his face all business again. “How old a guy, do you figure?”

“Thirties, maybe,” she said. “Couldn’t tell.”

Cohen stared at her. “Did you see him again after he gave you the ‘sample’?”

She nodded. “Last night.”

“Did you talk to him?”

“No.” She pointed out to the center of the alley. “But he walked right by.”

“Did he see you?”

“Yeah,” she said. “He stopped and looked me over. Didn’t say a word. It was freaky. He had this weird look on his face. Like he was surprised to see me. And his eyes …”

“What about them?” Leetch grunted.

“They were black as night. They looked …” She hesitated. “Dead.”

“What time was that, you figure?”

“One or two?” She held up her barren left wrist. “I don’t have a watch.”

“And how long after—” Leetch started.