Dead Men Do Tell Tales

The night noises of Greenwich Village had died away and the familiar sounds and smells of morning were beginning. There was a fragrance of freshly made coffee and frying onions. He could hear a faint tinkle of milk bottles and an occasional scuff of feet on the walk as some early rising laborer made his way to the subway. Dawn followed the swish of the water truck up Sullivan Street! A new day had begun. A day that would begin with blackmail…and end in murder.