The Hilda Bruce Murder Case

Broadway's My Beat from Times Square to Columbus Circle, the godiest, the most violent, the lonesome-est mile in the world. Broadway's My Beat with Larry Thor as Detective Danny Clover. Flow of an August night time, drift and ebb of an August night time through the narrow channels of Broadway, and where Serge was the great pools of silence filling now, and

stand at their edge and try for a tear to mourn the passing of summer night, and flip the coin for the memory that's worth the weeping. There was the beach at Far Rockaway and a dune from which to observe a girl dancing alone, arms stretched to the sea and to the moon, a ritual dance to the tune of the faraway portable radio in the plastic ukulele. And there

was the moment you approached her, touched her shoulder, and on the face turned to you were tears from closed eyes. So hit the subway and back to the street and flipped the coin again. There must be another thing to remember. And this too, on the trailing edge of night, A room deep somewhere in a brownstone town, and a youth in his silence, and a woman,

dead of a bullet wound, sprawled across kitchen linoleum, and detective Mugerman trying to find a gentle way with a boy's silence. You want to tell us about it, son? Look, son, no one wants to hurt you.

No one... you try her, dang. Why don't you move away from that corner, son? Come over here. Sit down. You live here? Yes, sir. And this woman... Another? Can you tell us what happened? My mother.

Look, what's your name, son? Jimmy. Jimmy Bruce. That's my mother. What? Why don't you go away, you and this other man? We don't need you. Mom and me don't... Look, kid, there's no other way to say it.