Premonition whispered, and the long knife of radio uncertainty touched him once more. Vic might be tied up. He knew this wasn’t so. The Monday show had to be rehearsed Sunday afternoon or Sunday night. When had Vic ever been so busy that a show went neglected? Perhaps he should have spent the week downtown and not have buried himself in a dramatization. But this wasn’t a case where he had to visit a station and keep himself fresh in a casting director’s memory. This was a Wylie show.
Monday morning the telephone rang. He was halfway down the stairs before his mother could call: “For you, Joe.”
Stella’s voice fluttered. “Lu’s show goes on at four. Are you picking it up?”
“Wouldn’t miss it,” Joe told her. His heart was lead.
“None of us will be able to hear it. Her show goes off fifteen minutes before we go on.”
“Leave it to me,” said Joe, and hung up.
“Was that Mr. Wylie’s office?” Kate Carlin asked.
“No; Stella Joyce. She asked me to listen to Lucille Borden.” He was silent. “I’ll pick it up at Vic’s.” Now that he was ready to resume his part, he couldn’t haunt Studio B. But Stella would want a report on Lucille. He’d have a legitimate reason for waiting until the cast came in from rehearsal. If Vic had anything to tell him, Vic could tell him then.
An afternoon romance serial was coming to the inner room when he reached Wylie’s office.
“That’s the station,” Miss Robb said. “Miss Borden’s show is next.”