A murder on "Sutton Place"

My friend Ron texted me today and asked "Did you see that crazy gay murder in your neighborhood?" I knew nothing about it, so he went on to text me the sordid story:

"Ok, so the hottie on the right was "adopted" by a "celebrity jeweler to the stars" on the left."



"Met him at a health club and now he calls him his son and he lives in a separate apartment in the same building, The Grand Sutton at 418 East 59th Street."



"So the "son", who now has the older guy's name, was partying with a few people he brought back from a club...
THIS hottie went to the apartment to party and ended up stabbed to death 12 times by the "son" and his friend."



"They tried to burn his body and ended up dumping it in New Jersey. The older daddy was not there and apparently doesn't know anything about it. The "son" and his friend are in custody. Seems like maybe they were all doing drugs and they hit on this guy and he wasn't into it." (Here is where I have to say I love when Ron tells a story, he's a writer and nobody does it better).

You can read all of the seamy details from the tabloids here and here.

Now, I love a good Manhattan murder mystery as much as anybody. And if "Law and Order" were still on the air this would be prime fodder for one of their 'ripped from the headlines' stories. But I have just one quibble: 59th Street AIN'T Sutton Place. You can put lipstick on a pig and it's still a pig. Just because you name the building "The Grand Sutton" doesn't mean it's the real Sutton Place. I know that building. It's one of those nondescript glass behemoths erected in the '70s or '80s. No architectural interest. Nothing to write home about.

To paraphrase the late great Susan Hayward in "Valley of the Dolls", one of my favorite guilty pleasure movies, "Sutton Place doesn't go for booze and dope!"

"Sutton Place doesn't go for booze and dope!"