  Jimmy scarcely knew whether or not to take his sister seriously, but he quickly finished his work and stepped out of the darkroom. Gazing from the window at the end of the hall he saw a police cruising car parked by the curb. 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.” Jimmy led the two policemen upstairs where they examined the wet films. For several minutes they studied the negatives in dead silence while the sergeant compared the car license number with several he had noted down in a little leather book. “That black sedan was a stolen car,” he said. “Probably abandoned by this time.” “The heavy-set bird looks like Legs Jovitch,” added the other policeman. “Can’t be sure from this film. Son, rush these through, will you? We’ll have prints made at headquarters.” “I oughtn’t to take them out of the water for a minute or two yet,” Jimmy protested. “And they take quite a while to dry—” “Push ’em through as fast as you can,” the sergeant interrupted. “I’ll telephone headquarters.” As Jimmy worked in the darkroom with the second policeman at his elbow, he thought swiftly. While he wished to cooperate with the law, he didn’t like to relinquish the films and a possible opportunity to profit from them. Vaguely he recalled having read a newspaper story about Legs Jovitch being a notorious bank thief who had escaped from New York state police. Quite by luck he had come into possession of pictures which might pack a news punch. “I’m glad to let you have these films except for one thing,” he said to the policeman. “I thought I might sell them to the Ledger.” “Tell you what we’ll do. It’s against regulations but you can ride along to headquarters with us. We’ll have extra prints made there.” “Suits me fine.” “Now what do you remember about those two men?” Jimmy provided the best description he could and was surprised that his mind as well as his camera had photographed so many details. “Sounds like Legs, all right,” the policeman nodded. “The fellow with him may be Al Morgan—he’s wanted for shooting his way out of a bank down state.” The films were partly dry by the time Sergeant Bedlow tramped back upstairs after making his telephone call. “We have orders to proceed to Morewell Avenue right away,” he reported. “We’ll pick up those films later on.” “You can take them now if you’re careful not to let them touch anything,” Jimmy replied quickly. “Want me to go along and handle them for you?” “The boy figures on selling his pictures to the Ledger,” explained the other policeman. “I told him he could ride along with us and get some extra prints at headquarters.” “Sure. Let’s go.” Jimmy followed the two men from the house, not forgetting to tuck his miniature camera into his coat pocket. “Jump in,” invited Sergeant Bedlow. Jimmy climbed into the rear seat of the big sedan. He pinned the damp films to a chromium crossbar so that they would swing free. 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. 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. “Well, son, you got some real pictures this time,” grinned Sergeant Bedlow. “Are the men really Legs and Morgan?” “If they aren’t, someone has made a bad mistake. Sure, they’re the ones, all right. Tried to shoot it out when they were cornered.” Jimmy asked several questions about the brief gun battle, and then added: “I want to rush my pictures straight to the Ledger office. How about those auto crash films? Will you need them now that you’ve caught the men?” “No hurry if we do. Take them along. And if you’re heading for the Ledger we’ll drop you off there on our way to headquarters. Hop in!” Jimmy needed no second invitation. He jumped into the cruiser again, and they sped back to the downtown section of Brandale. At the Ledger office, he leaped off, the precious films and camera held tightly in his hands. The elevator shot him up to the third floor. Brushing past the receptionist who sought to halt him, Jimmy walked straight to Riley’s desk. The editor looked up, scowling. “I have them!” said Jimmy. “Pictures with a real news wallop! Take a look at these films.” The auto crash negatives had dried during the wild ride in the police cruiser. He slapped them down on Riley’s desk. “What is this?” the editor asked wearily. “Another auto wreck? Now you ought to know we can’t use that stuff unless it has an unusual angle.” “This has. The car was stolen—” “Brandale has anywhere from six to a dozen taken each day.” “But this car was driven by Legs Jovitch.” “What?” demanded Riley. “The other man is Al Morgan. They crashed into a car driven by a Mrs. Clyde Montross. After they abandoned their sedan, the police surrounded them in a rooming house on Jefferson street. Both were captured after an exchange of shots. Jovitch was wounded in the right arm.” The news did not excite the editor as Jimmy had confidently expected. Riley looked interested but skeptical. “Say, are you trying to pull a fast one on me?” he demanded. “We’ve had no such report here.” “That’s because I was the only person on the scene except the police. A cruiser dropped me off here. You can check all my facts. And I have pictures of the capture undeveloped in my camera.” Riley came to life. “Higgins!” he bellowed to a reporter. “Get busy on the phone. Call the police station and find out if they’ve captured Legs Jovitch! Then get Mrs. Clyde Montross on the wire. Boy! Run these films into the photographic department and tell ’em to rush prints. Let’s have those other films, Evans.” A reporter, hat pushed back on his head, came running breathlessly into the office. “Big story, Chief!” he gasped. “Police have captured Legs Jovitch and Al Morgan! Haven’t been able to get all the details yet.” “Here’s someone who can supply them,” barked Riley, jerking his head in Jimmy’s direction. The newsroom had been thrown into confusion. Reporters clicked telephone receivers impatiently as they sought to speed calls. Miss Breen was sent to the morgue to locate clippings and photographs dealing with the unsavory history of the two notorious characters. Rapid fire orders went to the composing and photographic departments. In an incredibly short time the finished prints were laid on Riley’s desk. He ran through them with a critical eye, throwing out those which he considered without merit. The others he marked for page one. “Evans—” the editor’s voice held a note of respect. “You’ve rung the bell. We’ll give you twenty dollars for the lot.” Jimmy smiled, and shook his head. “Thirty, then. They’re good pictures. I won’t quibble.” Jimmy reached for the prints. “Say, what do you want?” Riley asked with biting sarcasm. “The Ledger building?” “Only a little niche in it. A job.” Riley’s face flushed an angry pink and the veins stood out on his forehead. Then, unexpectedly, he relaxed and laughed. “You have your nerve, Evans! Holding me up like this.” “I’m only following your advice,” grinned Jimmy. “Trying to use my head.” “You’re using it all right,” muttered Riley. “Do I get the job?” “You do. Start tomorrow at eight in the photographic department under Fred Orris. Twenty-five dollars per week. You’ve made a spectacular beginning, Evans, but I’m giving you fair warning. Follow it up with good steady work if you expect to remain on the Ledger payroll!” |
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