The car left the neighborhood street and toured down Jackson Street to Florence Boulevard. Suddenly the sergeant slammed on the brakes, scrutinizing a black sedan without license plates which was parked at the curb.
“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.