“Good idea,” said Zoe as she pushed the front door open. Stay clear of all the business in the park? Ha! Not a chance.

The city streets were visibly empty, the pandemic forcing millions to stay inside. That June as the weather got warmer, the infection rate went down and a few more intrepid Manhattanites ventured out. Despite the virus, Zoe’s daily morning runs had become a ritual. Running cleared her head, forced some of the endless chatter out of her brain. Ignoring her doorman’s advice, she turned left as she stepped out of the building and like a heat-seeking missile, ran uptown directly towards the crime scene. Cruising at a good clip while watching the police activity across the street in the park, she followed the flashing lights to what appeared to be the hub of police activity. Turning right on 110th Street, she stumbled upon a mass of police and emergency vehicles.

Slowing down her pace to take it all in, Zoe counted twenty-three police cars, a couple dozen officers on foot, two ambulances, a fire truck and four police officers on horseback. A lone patrolman stood out in the center of 110th Street directing foot traffic away from the park.

“What happened here, officer?” said Zoe approaching the policeman.

“Looks like a homicide,” said the masked cop, barely looking at her and waving to other pedestrians.

“Was it the West Side Strangler?” said Zoe, her eyes now like saucers. “It was, wasn’t it?”

“We don’t know anything yet. Sanitation crew found a woman this morning about 200 yards from the north-west entrance,” said the cop. “That’s all I know.”

“It would certainly make sense if it was the Strangler,” said Zoe bouncing around the officer, her hands moving for emphasis. “I mean, he’s already killed six women. This one makes seven. Was she young too?”

“I don’t know anything. I’m only here to keep people out of the park. I really can’t comment,” said the officer. “And, you need to keep moving along.”

“But the funny thing is, officer, all of the Strangler’s victims were attacked inside their apartments,” said Zoe, still fishing for info. “I’ve been following this case very closely. If this was the Strangler, she would be his first victim attacked outside. Maybe he’s changing his MO. Or, maybe this is the work of a copycat, because I’ve read that a lot of murderers have copycats and—”

“Like I said, I don’t know anything,” said the cop. “You need to keep moving.”

“There must be Argus cameras in this section of the park,” said Zoe, looking across the street at all the trees. “Although, it would be difficult to get a picture with all the leaves at this time of year.”

“No comment,” said the officer, tired of the conversation with the persistent woman.