“Learn to take the bitter along with the whipped cream,” chuckled Jerry. “I’ve also just been handed an assignment that’s not to my liking.”
“Covering the Preston fire, I suppose.”
“Nothing that spectacular. DeWitt’s sending me out to the Riverview Orphans’ Home to dig up human interest material in connection with the camp-fund campaign. Want to ride along as ballast?”
“Well, I don’t know?” Penny debated. “I’ve had almost enough of publicity stories for one day.”
“Oh, come on,” Jerry coaxed, taking her by the arm. “You can talk to the orphans and maybe turn up a lot of interesting facts.”
“For you to write,” she added ruefully. “Just a Sister Friday—that’s my fate in this office.”
Actually Penny welcomed an opportunity to accompany Jerry, for she liked him better than any young man of her acquaintance. Spearing the story she had just written on the copy desk spindle, she followed the reporter to the parking lot. Jerry helped her into one of the press cars, and they expertly drove through heavy downtown traffic.
“What’s the latest on the Preston case?” Penny inquired, clutching her hat to keep it from blowing out the window.
“No latest,” Jerry answered briefly. “The Prestons won’t talk, Mrs. Davis won’t talk, the sheriff won’t talk. So far it totals up to one little story about a fire.”
“Dad said the sheriff had learned Clem Davis was a member of a secret organization, probably known as the Black Hoods.”