Last Good Friday night Elizabeth Smith, 18, thick-waisted daughter of a strict Bronx family, stayed up with the family until around midnight. Early next morning, looking slimmer and paler than she had for some months, Elizabeth Smith took the family dog for a customary walk. Later that Saturday the Smith neighborhood was in an uproar of police car sirens, screeching housewives, giggling boys and girls. In the airshaft of the tenement next door to the Smiths', a newborn baby boy had been found dead, apparently dropped from the roof. Easter Sunday, detectives asked...
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