“That looks like the same car!” cried Jimmy. “I remember the front bumper was partly torn away.”
The cruiser pulled up and the two policemen went over to look at the sedan. They made a systematic, unhurried inspection, finally locating the missing license plates hidden under the back seat.
“This is the car we’re looking for,” said Sergeant Bedlow. “Stolen two days ago from a party in the Heights.”
While the policemen went on with their methodical search, Jimmy snapped a picture of them standing beside the abandoned car. Their inspection completed, they made out a report and returned to the cruiser.
The car had not traversed a block when the radio under the dashboard came to life.
“Cruiser 6.... Calling Cruiser 6.... Proceed to corner of Dover and Jefferson. Two men reported in vicinity answering description of Jovitch and Morgan. Cruiser 6.... Cruiser 24.... Cruiser 12.... Calling....”
Sergeant Bedlow swung the wheel and turned the car around. They took the corner on screeching tires, heading for Dover and Jefferson streets, twelve blocks away.
A thrill of excitement ran down Jimmy’s spine. He leaned forward, watching the road. With siren wailing, they zoomed through red lights and passed all slow moving traffic.
Minutes later they swerved to a stop before a dilapidated frame building. A police car, a small coupe, was parked not a dozen yards away and a third, a big cruiser, careened into the narrow space beside them.
From inside the dwelling three shots rang out. There came an answering report.
“Keep down!” ordered Sergeant Bedlow sharply. And then to his companions: “Come on boys! We’ll run those rats out of there!”
As Jimmy crouched low, the policemen both leaped from the cruiser, revolvers drawn. But as they moved swiftly up the walk, the front door of the house swung open. The two men who had been in the black sedan were marched outside, escorted by police officers. The heavy-set one held his right arm which had been wounded.
Jimmy stared. Then, realizing that he was losing a grand opportunity, he sprang from the cruiser and focused his camera. His hand trembled as he opened the shutter. He had ruined the exposure.
Steadying his nerves, he quickly took a second and third picture. He finished with one at close range while the prisoners were being loaded into a police car, handcuffed to their captors.