The Alex Raymond Murder Case

It's time for it to Columbus Circle, the gaudiest, the most violent, the lonesome-ish mile in the world. This might be with Larry Thor as detective Danny Cooper. November morning sits down over Broadway, and for the time the swarm stands bewildered, stares at its empty hands.

The solitude begins to shape itself once more. Out of November's winds, out of the silent, colorless neon, out of mists, slurring upward from manholes. And finally, the solitude is clear and present. Whispering again, it's death-leat invitation.

And the derelicts of mourning run from it. Beat open a door, plead for refuge. Find it in a time clock. It's another day, kid. All yours. And at headquarters, do the things of the morning.

Brush the night dust off the unfinished report. Waught up the paper cup with the drugs of cold coffee. Toss it in the waste basket. Terrapage off a calendar. A shooting, Danny. Pull him in. Man says he shot once to talk. Here's the address.

Take it from the sergeant. Go to the address. Find the man standing plopped against the wall of the apartment. One hand and a fifth pressed part against his chest, pushing back the fragment of light that was still inside him, and watch it seep through his fingers.

You took your time. Let me help you all. Don't touch me. Don't touch me. Stay with me. Who shot you? Stand with me. Family, the glory of this nothing. Worked for me. I put the privileges now.

I think he just missed it. The ambulance will be here in a minute. Let me take your hand off. Got to do with this. Alex Raymond, get that little nothing. You're here.