Tammy began accosting passersby with her hand microphone.
"Hello! I'm Tamara Terrill. Fox News. I'm looking for anyone who saw the guy who plotzed in the middle of traffic yesterday."
There were no takers.
"Keep trying," the cameraman prodded.
Tammy did.
"Hello. Did someone see the guy drop dead? Come on, someone must have seen something. Anyone hear a weird humming here yesterday?"
A discouraging half hour later, Tammy gave up.
"Why not try that traffic cop?" the cameraman suggested.
"Because this is his beat," the cameraman said tiredly.
Officer Funkhauser was only too happy to cooperate with Fox Network News.
"I heard the humming just before the guy plotzed," he said.
"Was there anything suspicious about his death?"
"Between you and me, his eyes and brains got eaten out."
"That wasn't in the papers."
"They're keeping it quiet. But that's what I found. Just keep my name out of the papers."
"What is your name?"
"Officer Muldoon. That's with two O's."
"See anything odd or out of place?"
"Just the dead guy."
"Any police theories you can share with me?"
"My experienced eyes say a Mafia hit," Officer Funkhauser said flatly.
"If it was a hit, there had to be a hit man. See anything or anyone who might have been a hit man?"
"No. Just ordinary people. Unless you consider the street vendor."
"Wouldn't that be a good hit-man disguise?"
"Maybe. He was giving away candy samples."
"What'd he look like?"
"Tall. Thin. Wore a Charlotte Hornets cap and team jacket."
"Isn't that kinda strange? A Hornets fan in the Big Apple?"
"It's New York. Nothing is unusual here."
"Point taken," said Tammy. "Thanks. You can go now."
The officer went back to directing traffic. Tammy went back to accosting the lunch crowd.
"Anyone who saw the death here yesterday gets to be on TV," she announced.
Faces brightened, and suddenly Tammy was surrounded by helpful citizens crying, "I saw him! I saw him!"
"I did, too. He was short and fat."
"No, tall and bean-poley."
"Actually, it was a woman."
"Forget it," said Tammy, disgusted with her opportunistic fellow men.
"I guess we pack it in," she told her cameraman dejectedly.
"You discourage easy."
"It's a discouraging game. I've been in it over two years and I'm not rich and famous yet."
"Life's an ordeal and then you fall into a pine box," the cameraman commiserated.
At that moment, Tommy's steely blue gaze fell on a light pole.
"What's that?"
The cameraman looked up. A thick clump of orange-and-black matter hung from the streetlight hood. It made him think of some kind of fungus, except pieces of it crawled along the surface.
"Bees. They're swarming."
"That's what I thought. Bees hum, don't they?"
"Actually, they kinda drone."
"The cop said the suspect hit man was wearing a Charlotte Hornets cap ...." Tammy mused.
"He didn't say 'suspect hit man.' That was your idea."