The John Mooney Murder Case

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. Bring time begins to search through Broadway and its gentle winds feel out the places to set up shop. The pushcarts of the flower vendors where the promises are

wrapped in tightbud the faint color. A child's ribboned silken hair side across the winter-pinged face, a woman's shoulders too soon eager to shed the raiment of winter's night. In the spring songs choked out of loudspeakers in the inviting side-long glance in the barefoot padding through sun-warm corridors, here is spring for Broadway, innocent, nostalgic as the music of

the organ grinder to which monkeys dance, to which Broadway size remembers, tries again, And at the edge of the March evening against the shimmering of dusk, the anger of a man, the near hysteria, the economy-sized fury at Innocence, malign.

It's an outrage, a shame, a filthy shame. The way you please have nothing better than do and drag off a man off the street and push him and beat him and people standing around and snick around.

No one beats you, Mr. Grace. Oh, it's the same thing you might as well have. What am I doing here? What am I doing in a messy room with a detective and a girl with a sketch pad?

Me a man with two kids an overworked wife nags at me when I'm late for supper late for anything Everything I ever got I sweat for you hear me make it easy. Mr. Grace. I'm in a seed store See I'm buying things for my lawns my rose But you know big or owner rape and I walk out in a man grabs me makes me drop things in the street