“We’re going to lose them,” Zoe wailed, her eyes still on the couple’s car. “How far away is the Uber?”

“There are none around here. The nearest one is in Midtown,” said Sean shaking his head. The light at the intersection turned green and the yellow taxi containing the masked couple turned left and disappeared.

Defeated, the two sleuths turned around and walked silently over to Fifth Avenue heading towards Midtown when Zoe abruptly stopped and faced Sean. “We have to go to the police. If that man in the NY Rangers mask turns up dead and we do nothing, it’ll be on us.”

They googled police stations on the West Side and got an Uber to the 24th Precinct on West 100th Street.

A police officer wearing a face mask took their temperatures at the entrance and asked them a few questions about their general health. They were then directed to the front desk to speak to another masked policeman sitting behind a Plexiglass divider.

“Can I help you?” said the uniformed officer looking down at some papers on his desk.

“Yes,” said Zoe, swallowing. “We want to report a murder.”

The cop’s head jerked up and he sat back straight, his brows knitting together. “Excuse me, with the masks and the Plexiglass, it’s extremely hard to hear these days. Can you say that again?”

“We’re here to report a murder,” said Sean loudly.

“Where did this murder happen?” said the cop, slightly flustered, preparing to take notes.

Zoe looked at Sean and then back at the police officer. “It didn’t exactly happen yet, but it’s going to.”

“When?” said the cop.

“Thursday, a man is going to be murdered this Thursday,” said Zoe confidently.

“What’s the man’s name and where is this murder taking place?” said the cop writing notes.

“We don’t exactly know his name,” said Zoe, “or where it’s going to happen, but it is going to happen on Thursday.”

“Do you know how this murder is going to happen?” said the cop, a leery expression creeping into his eyes above his NYPD mask.

“We don’t know that either,” said Sean, jumping in.

“Do you know who the perpetrator is?” said the cop, now relaxing and fiddling with the mask loop over his right ear.

“We think his name is Sr. Bello. He’s the boyfriend of the wife of the man who is going to be killed,” said Zoe matter-of-factly.

“We don’t know for sure that he’s her boyfriend,” Sean said, looking at Zoe.

“He talked about being in bed with her,” she said. “Who else would he be?”

“Excuse me,” said the cop, rapping on the Plexiglass to get their attention. “Let me get this straight. You’re here to report a murder that didn’t happen yet. You don’t know who the victim or the perpetrator is or how, where or why.”