Harold Gates slowed the snow-topped yellow taxi and edged it along the slushy curb to a stop where she stood, shivering in a tattered wool coat in a January blizzard on the steps of her unlit apartment building. He watched as she sidestepped a few crushed beer cans strewn on the sidewalk, pulling open the heavy door and sliding into the backseat. "Evenin', missy." The driver gave his cap a polite lift, showing a shock of white hair matching his thin moustache. "Where to, missy?"A slim hand reached forward with a slip of paper between two fingers.He read it and knuckled up his cap and scratche