The Raymond Grant Murder Case

Broadway's My Beat, sometimes square to Columbus Circle, the gaudiest, the most violent, the lonesomeest mile in the world. Broadway's My Beat, with Larry Thor as Detective Danny Clover. Winter begins its long dying and Broadway reacts to the process about the same as anywhere else, with a kind of joy, with a smile touched off by the little warmth left inside.

Except on Broadway, don't be think to remember. The evenings, just as night time drifted in when the lights on the translux were winter fireflies and twinkled of how it is to be at war in February.

And the coffee smells and the crowd and the time when you delivered the runaway peekin' knees back to the girl whose lips quivered when she kissed the dog. And the night dying, and remember how it was, as seen through the prism of a cold tear.

The night had died in the place where I was, and the first light diluted the shadow in the hallway. the car-putting rich and carved, and the intruding pattern, the blood on it, the man's blood lying on it, and the uncurve and an evening gown and fur is ever sawed.

I'm trying to find out for me as daily as whether you knew this man, whether you've ever talked to him. Well, there's or even why he should be dead in front of my door. That's right, from what I can tell this man was beaten to death.

The way he's lying, he probably struck his head against this wall here where there's blood. I told you, I told you all I know about it. Tell me again. Like, I was on the town, like a party, you know.