“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.