The Hope Anderson Murder Case

Broadway's My Beat from Times Square to Columbus Circle, the godiest, the most violent, the lonesome-est mile in the world. Broadway's My Beat with Larry Thor as Detective Danny Clover. Broadway, for darkness, drains through the scarlet of neon before it's called night, and the crowd gathers the people of Twilight or Dawn, the crowd that coils upon itself

then lashes out into the furious streets. You move with it afraid to look back over your shoulder because the sound drifting by you was at a laugh or a cry. There's nothing in between. It's Broadway my beat.

The message was handed to me at my desk at headquarters and the message was specific. The courtyard of the Marbury Apartments in Greenwich Village and the message had a code number to make the matter more easily classified.

Murder translated into two digits. It was my department so I went there. courtyard surrounded by slabs of building. Nothing except the cascade of a fountain tossing the filtered yellow lights from apartment windows. That and a girl lying there, her fingers trailing in the water. And a woman standing beside her being angry about the whole thing.

Well, well, I see you finally got here. I finally did. Who are you? Now it starts. Who am I? What am I doing here? What's this all about? How much of this is going to be in the papers?

Probably all of it. You call the questions, answer them. I'm a fellow walker, owner, manager of the Marbury Apartments. Look it up. Age, none of your business. And the girl lying there is a tenant, Hope Anderson.

She's dead. Now what about the newspapers? That bothers you. Why? Look, listen to me. I've got an apartment house here, respectable, for girls only. Sure they can have men callers at certain hours, who am I to warp young women by no men callers.