I am currently in hot pursuit of Mickey Bernstein, big-deal homicide detective.
I’m recording all of this just in case something…well, weird happens. This is Philadelphia, after all. And everybody’s been telling me to watch my back. So maybe a recording of these next few minutes will come in handy for the person investigating my murder.
Please, don’t let me be murdered.
Victor, if I am murdered, avenge me.
I guessed correctly, by the way. Mickey turned right, heading toward Sansom Street, which means he’s going to the Linc or the Main Line.
Victor, I don’t know if you’re listening to this in real time or not, but in case you are, work your magic. Tell me where Bernstein is headed.
Okay, you must be busy. No magic for now. I have to do this the old-fashioned way.
Bernstein is continuing down Sansom Street. At some point he has to turn, otherwise he’s headed into the river. I am following close behind. But not too close. Bernstein is police, and he knows when he’s being followed.
Okay, he’s taking a right on Twenty-Second Street, which makes sense. This will take him to the on-ramps for the interstate and then to everybody’s least favorite highway, the Schuylkill Expressway. Ah, Mickey, but are you taking the freeway west, out of your jurisdiction and into the chilly embrace of the Main Line? Or are you taking it east, down to the Linc?
The next few minutes will tell us everything…
Oh, s---.
I think he spotted me.
S—, s—, s—.
This is not good, Victor.
If Bernstein saw me, all he has to do is call it in, and within a minute I’ll be pulled over, and who knows how that might go? At best, I’ll be slapped with a dozen tickets for fictional violations. At worst, I’ll end up…
Okay, he definitely sees me. I’m turning around now.