The Eve Hunter Murder Case

Broadway's My Beat from Times 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. The pallor of the long day ebbs finally from Broadway.

And what had been saloon gray is a sudden scarlet, where drabness was, where surfaces were drained of color. There's a glitter now, silvery, darted through with splinters of neon light. The epic edge of Twilight, the shock, gathers, waits for the revelers.

The sighing wind draws them into it one by one. From the long corridors, from hall bedrooms, from the embrace of solitude, they drift, they run, they whirl to the dancing of the wind, and shock waits.

And shock comes. And answer a call from Spanish Harlem in the Barrio, in a room of cracked and dusting plaster. It is lurid in grotesque and somehow of a piercing and dread beauty. A dwarf who sits on a cot, tearing from his guitarist, Savage Levent, tears in the furrows of his earthen face,

for the girl at his feet, for the dead girl at his feet. I'm from the police. This your place? Do you hear me? I said I was from the police. I want you to tell me what happened here.

Put that thing down and listen to me. Who are you? Look at it. Look at this badge. See? Police? That's right. Police. Tell me about it. You live here? Is the showroom? No, this girl.

That's right, Marte. You kill her? You kill her? You kill her? Yes. I'm... Where... This thing that killed her, this barb. What is it? Look on it, tell me. Ponderilla. Ponderilla de Carida. Ponderilla de Carida.