The Ted Forstek and Ruth Ballard Murder Case

The most violent. The lonesome-est mile in the world. Broadway's my beat with Larry Thor as detective Danny Clover. Sound that Eddie's upward from Broadway is the sound of shock. The thing composed of laughter, trumpet, the clack of heels, the cry from the lonely bed.

You stand at the window with police headquarters waiting for some part of it to touch you. And in one way or another it does. It's a frightened voice through a phone, the impersonal alarm of a teletype.

the impersonal alarm of a teletype. Or a tired officer walks into your office, tugs at your sleeve, gives you a message. Shooting on the Manhattan side of the George Washington Bridge it says, take the last side road on your right before you get there.

Officer Murray will meet you. The siren on your squad car spills into the empty pockets of the night, fills them with its own brand of shock. And you're there, an officer Murray meets you. This way Danny, that car parked over there.

What happened? Boy and a girl, you'll see. Kim, how bad? I'm not ducked, any. Amulets on its way. Lost a lot of blood. When I found him, the car was open. The boy's position, like he was trying to get out of the car.

What about the girl? Four shots from up pretty close, it looks like. Dead. Uh, motive? Like I said, I'm not a ducked. It wasn't robbery. Hair, wallets from both with just the amount of money you'd expect neatly dressed kids like that to have.

Identification to? I see. Boy's name, Ted Forestac. Girls, Ruth, Ballard, both kids, both just touching 20. There's something else, Danny. What? Other side of the road. Come on. Somebody pick a nice, occluded place for killing.