The Last Collection by Seymour Blicker

Author:Seymour Blicker
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9780062379580
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2014-11-21T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter Nineteen

“. . . Then at approximately nine-twenty A.M., the subject, Mr. A. Kerner, came out of the apartment garage driving a red Corvette, license number 3C84-CL. He was accompanied by another man who had entered the apartment building approximately thirty minutes earlier.”

“What did this other man look like?” Morrie Hankleman said, interrupting the burly man seated opposite him.

The detective shuffled through the several pages on his lap and pulled one out.

“Yes, here it is. . . . This subject was middle-aged. Late forties or early fifties. Approximately five-foot-eight. Thin build but larger-than-average shoulders. Slight greying of hair at the temples. Sharp features. Prominent nose . . .”

“All right, go on,” Hankleman said curtly. The description was more than enough to tell him that it was Solly Weisskopf in the car with Kerner.

The man continued where he had left off. “I followed the subject at high speed to Walton’s Art Gallery, located on Sherbrooke Street West near the corner of Crescent Street. On the way, the subject was stopped for speeding and given a ticket by a motorcycle policeman. He then proceeded at the same high speed to Walton’s where he parked the car in a no-parking zone and ran very quickly into Walton’s. The subject appeared frightened or in a state of semi-panic as he ran in, followed by the other man whom I described a moment ago.

“I entered the store and saw the subject purchase a painting for which he paid over four hundred dollars. This was carried out of the gallery by the second man. They got back into the subject’s car and proceeded . . .”

“Wait a minute! Hold on! . . . You say the other man was carrying the painting?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“You’re positive?”

“Yes. Very definitely so,” the man replied.

“All right, go on,” Hankleman said, scowling.

“Well . . . then, unfortunately, I lost track of the subject for a while.”

“Whatta you mean, you lost track?” Hankleman yelled angrily.

“Well, sir . . . you see, I was trailing the subject in traffic and I was trying to keep a few cars back of them. The car directly in front of me was a taxi. . . . Well, for some reason, he suddenly had to hit his brakes and I ended up rear-ending him.”

“So you should’ve kept going!” Hankleman shouted.

“Well, hey, look. That would have been a hit-and-run. I could lose my investigator’s license for that. Besides, the taxi driver flew out of the car from the impact and fell onto the street. He was out cold; they had to take him away in an ambulance. I couldn’t leave until the police came and filled out a report. Then I had to fill out my own report about the accident to give to my boss. See, here, I had to fill all of this out on the spot,” the man said, holding a sheet out towards Hankleman. “Here’s the guy’s name and everything about the accident. See, here! Gabor Pelzic, that’s the guy I hit. It’s

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