Swamp Island Part 4

Upstairs, in the newsroom, reporters were relaxing at their desks, taking a few minutes' "breather" between editions.

Swinging through the entrance gate, Penny created a slight stir. At one of the desks under a neon light, Jerry Livingston, pencil behind one ear and hair slightly rumpled, tapped aimlessly at the keys of a typewriter.

His quick eye appreciatively took in the long flowing skirt and the high heeled slippers.

"Well, if it isn't our little glamor girl!" he teased. "Cinderella ready for the ball!"

At another time, Penny would have paused to chat. Now she flashed a quick smile and clicked on toward the city desk.

Editor DeWitt, a quick-tempered, paunchy man of middle-age stood talking to her father, who looked more than ever distinguished in a new gray suit.

"Here she comes now," Mr. DeWitt said as Penny approached. "Your daughter never missed a deadline yet, Mr. Parker."

"Perhaps not," the publisher admitted, "but it always gives me heart failure, figuring she will."

"Dad, I'm sorry to have annoyed you," Penny said quickly before he could get in another word. "I was out at the swamp with Louise."

"The swamp!"

"Gathering flowers for the banquet table," Penny added hastily. "Oh, Dad, they're simply beautiful--so much nicer than any florist could have supplied."

"I can imagine." Mr. Parker smiled and looked at the wall clock. "We're due at the theater in ten minutes. I'm chairman of the program, unfortunately."

Penny gently broke the news. "Dad, I haven't had time to decorate the banquet table at the hotel. Will you drive me there?"

"I can't," Mr. Parker said, slightly exasperated. "I'm late now. Have one of the photographers take you. By the way, where's Salt Sommers?"

Hearing his name spoken, a young photographer whose clothes looked as if he had slept in them, moved out from behind a newspaper he had been reading.

"Coming right up, Chief," he answered.

"Run my daughter over to the Hillcrest Hotel," the publisher instructed.

"Make it your job to see that she reaches the theater promptly."

"I guess I can handle her," Salt said, winking at Penny.

"And now, where is Jerry?" the publisher asked. "Has anyone seen him?"

"Relax, Dad," said Penny. "He's right here."

"I am jumpy tonight," Mr. Parker admitted, "but I have a lot on my mind.

That stunt we've planned for the entertainment of our out-of-town men--is everything set?"

"Sure," DeWitt a.s.sured him. "There'll be no hitch. As the mayor winds up his address of welcome, the stage electrician turns off the stage lights.

Jerry, in view of the audience, orders him to turn 'em on again. He refuses an' they argue over union rules. The fight gets hotter until finally the workman pulls a revolver and lets him have it full blast.

Jerry falls, clutching his chest. Our newsboys gallop down the aisles with copies of the _Riverview Star_ and screaming headlines telling all about the big murder. Everyone gets a swell laugh, figuring it's pretty snappy coverage."

"You certainly make it sound corny the way you tell it," Mr. Parker sighed. "Who thought up the idea anyhow?"

"Why, you did, Chief," grinned Salt. "Remember?"

"It was a poor idea. Maybe we ought to call it off."

"After we got the extras all printed an' everything?" Mr. DeWitt asked, looking injured. "The boys went to a lot of trouble."

"All right, we'll go ahead just as we planned, but I hope there is no slip-up. How about the revolver?"

"Right here," said Salt, whipping it from an inside pocket. "Loaded with blanks." He pointed it at a neon light, pulled the trigger and a loud bang resulted.

Jerry Livingston sauntered over. "So that's the lethal weapon," he observed. "Can I trust you guys not to slip a real bullet in when I'm not looking?"

"I've got to go," cut in Mr. Parker, looking again at the clock. "The program starts as soon as I get to the theater. Speeches should take about an hour. Then the stunt. And don't be late!"

"We'll be there," Salt promised. "Jerry, you riding with Penny and me?"

"I'll come later in my own car. Have a story to write first."

Going back to his typewriter, the reporter slipped carbons and paper into the machine and began pecking the keys.

At that moment a Western Union boy came through the newsroom. Catching Penny's eye, he pushed a telegram toward her and asked her to sign.

She wrote her name automatically, before noticing that the envelope bore Jerry's name.

"For you," she said, tossing it onto the roller of his typewriter. "More fan mail."

"It's probably a threat to bring suit if I don't pay my dry cleaning bill," Jerry chuckled.

He glanced at the envelope briefly, then slit it up the side. As he read the wire, his face became a study. His jaw tightened. Then he relaxed and laughed.

"This is a threat all right," he commented, "but not from the dry cleaners!"

Jerry reread the telegram, snorted with disgust, and then handed it to Penny.

In amazement she read: "ARRIVED IN TOWN TODAY TO TAKE CARE OF A LITTLE UNFINISHED BUSINESS. WILL BE SEEING YOU."

The telegram bore the signature, Danny Deevers.

CHAPTER 4 _A TRAFFIC ACCIDENT_

As word spread through the office that Jerry had received a threat from the escaped convict, reporters gathered to read the telegram and comment upon it.

"Great stuff!" exclaimed Editor DeWitt, thinking in terms of headlines.

"_Riverview Star_ reporter threatened by Danny Deevers! We'll build it up--post a reward for his capture--provide you with a bodyguard."

"But I don't want a bodyguard," Jerry retorted. "Build up the story if you want to, but skip the kindergarten tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs."