“Hello, Penny!” Jerry greeted her. “Might have known you’d be here. Where’s the Chief?”
“Somewhere, sleuthing around,” Penny answered. “I lost him a minute ago when I telephoned the Star office.”
Salt Sommers, a felt hat cocked low over his eyes, began unloading photographic equipment from the coupe.
“Where’ll I get the best shots?” he asked Penny. “Other side or this?”
“Under the bridge,” she directed crisply. “None of the damage shows from above.”
Salt slung the heavy camera over his shoulder, and disappeared down the incline which led to the river bed.
Before Jerry and Penny could move away, Mr. Parker hurried up with the watchman in tow.
“This is Carl Oaks, bridge guard,” he announced without preliminary. “Take him over to the drugstore, Jerry, and put him on the wire. We want his complete story for the Star.”
“Not so fast,” drawled a voice from behind. “We want to talk to Carl Oaks.”
One of the policemen, a detective, moved over to the group and began to question the watchman.