The Frank Conway Murder Case

Broadways My Beat, from Times Square to Columbus Circle, the godiest, the most violent, the lonesomeest mile in the world. Broadways My Beat, the thrilling drama of murder and mystery in the people who walked the great white way, starring Larry Thor as detective Danny Clover.

In the morning a kind of silence touches Broadway, the color has been squeezed from it, drained, spent by the wanton knife. The neon is still in a spectacular sleep. The scavengers walk soft, grubbed furtively in the refuse of the night.

And if you listen close, you can hear the wind. And it's the same wind that purrs through ruins. At headquarters, you welcome Broadway's silence. But you know it'll splinter in your face. And it does.

Its shape is a slip of paper tossed carelessly in your desk. Honor to have written the words, homicide, Olympian Hotel, room 312. And Broadway is awake now. It's starting a new day. At the Olympian hotel you walk down a corridor that's been painted in a color that won't offend anybody.

Then a door opens to you and a voice designed not to frighten you, welcomes you into a room lately furnished with death. Come in. Come in, please. Your head porter as I presume? And you?

Matthew Porter, Yale 47, head of the crime detection bureau for the management. This is my first murder. shot 45 I'd say. Who was he, I guess? Not likely. Oh, I took the liberty of going through his pockets for identification, of course. I find he is a Frank Conroy, obviously one of those people from Texas, the high-heeled boots that 10-gallon

monstrosity over there on the bed. They wear those things. Died with his boots on a classic. And this? Go to see of the management? The roulette wheel? Of course not. Gambling in the rooms is positively forbidden at the Olympian.