The Paul Clark Murder Case

Broadways My Beat from Times Square to Columbus Circle, the Gaudius, the most violent, the lonesome-est mile in the world. Broadways My Beat with Larry Thor as Detective Danny Clover. When night comes to Broadway, it drains through neon before it scatters the street and everywhere shadows are tinged with scarlet.

And the crowd gathers the tribe of Twilight Tildon, the roar that coils upon itself before It floods the darkness, lean against it, walk it. The whirlpool of mob, the puffs of music from winking doorways, The swirl of women's laughter that passes your lips.

Let it touch you. Then look backward and see it all change into night wind, and drift away. And uptown, north and broadway and east, 110th Street in Central Park, in the part of the night that hung over a lake where I was standing, the floodlights, the rowboat, and detective muggerman, in a huddled shape.

I got him, Danny. Tight up. Right. Better give me a hand with him. Got him? Yeah. Easy. Oh, kids. Well, for once a citizen was right, Danny. Man drowned in Central Park Lake, the citizen said.

So I'm floating. Good boy wasn't drowned, my good boy. Look. In the back. A small caliber gun. Hasn't been dead too long. But 19. Good looking boy. Well, nothing. Ah, no wallet pocket, simply no identification.

Now what's he got in his hand, my God? In his hand, he's first. He could be holding me. Yeah, he was. Look, let me have a... Strange looking ring, isn't it? Antique, no initials inside.

I'm getting him down time, my God, and I'm getting some prints. Okay. Danny? What? You were right. He was a good looking boy. Then the pattern, known too long, repeated too many times, the check, the waiting.