The Blanche Dermit Murder Case

From plans for a humble circle, the gaudiest, the most violent, the lonesomeest mile in the world. Today's vibes with Larry Thorr as detective Danny Glover. The Broadway flips the calendar, stares at the word December, holds chin between thumb and forefinger and wonders.

What happened? Winter is here and the year is suddenly dying. Proof property, the wind rising from the river, the twists to headline around an ankle, lifts it up again, flattens it against the gutter, and there it is in bold space.

So many shopping days left. So the upper dreams are chopped, mounted, dyed blue, and tinseled. Token of holiday season. Token that time's getting narrow for the layaway plan. Forget with it. All you need is a dollar. It'll hold the dream, token Christmas.

Follow the decoration's downtown and take a left. East 37th for the season is manifest by holly in apartment windows and electric candles. And the latest thing, Merry Christmas in phosphorus paint to glow in the dark.

11 o'clock time, night time where I was, and this Japanese apartment and this gas. Look at the joins with you. I'm looking. I've been looking for the last five minutes, this gas. You know, it's settled down and tell me what.

Two years, I say, to get a full night mirror. Now look at it. Now look what I've got. Confetti. You ready to tell me what happens? You know what happened. What's been happening around this neighborhood for the last couple of nights?

I mean to you. I was trying on in front of the mirror, that spot. And that sniper took a pot shot at me. Why didn't you pull the blind down? At my age. Well, you're lucky.