He bounded down the stairway. Two blue-coated policemen were in the living room talking with his mother.
The sergeant arose, surveying him with an appraising glance. “You’re Jim Evans?”
“Yes, sir.”
“We want to talk to you about the auto accident at the corner of Summit and Clark. The lady who owned the blue sedan gave us your name as a witness. Said you took some pictures.”
“That’s right. I just finished developing them.”
“How did they turn out?”
“They’ll make good prints.”
“Do the license plates show?” asked the policeman.
“Yes. I snapped the hit-and-run driver, too, and his companion.”
“Let’s have a look at those films.”