The Peggy Warner Murder Case

Broadway's My Beat from Times Square to Columbus Circle, the gaudiest, the most violent, the lonesome-est mile in the world. Broadway's My Beat with Larry Thor as Detective Danny Clover. The February winds spin, dance, race in the morning avenue, and Broadway lurches in their wake, and hands are frozen to early editions of newspaper, and winter lies against

cheek and mouth, and search the headlines for what the winds are taking to die with them, and search memory too for January images sworn to remembrance, ice on masts of freighter bound for the tropics, and further back, deeper in memory, the holiday time and the holiday women, and they danced by now in chill embrace of winter wind, and solaces the corner coffee

stand and the donut, and waiting a little way up the street, the time clock. And downtown, the new morning is emergency ward of Police Hospital, and the wall clock that jerks its hands into the eight o'clock time, and a man, Dr. Sinsky.

Shock, exposure, for a whole night, the girl laying an alley at no one to. Over the phone, you send that. I know what I said, boys. There were symptoms. The lab can find my diagnosis just minutes ago.

Pretty. Yes. Now the daddy's sleep of prettiness has returned. Here, Danny, here's the history on him. I identified from things in a pocketbook as Peggy Warner, age 28. Where was she from? There were a moment, Danny.

Allie, emptying into 19th Street, back of Tate's bar and grill on Tate Avenue. A woman came running to patrol me in Carnes on the beat, yelled, that drunk girl was sleeping in the alley in that.