“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 assured 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!”