“Does Amby Carver ever forget a pal? Didn’t I tell you you’d some day know you had me wrong?” Mr. Munson’s public relations radio counsel was no longer apprehensive. “I’ve brought back some Sue Davis script,” he said pompously, “without my approval. Get a load of how I’m changing this show, Joe. Sue gets typhoid. She doesn’t feel so good, but she’s around. While she’s alone and getting delirious, she signs for Tice. She doesn’t know what she’s doing. Will she lose the house? Suspense. Will she get better? Big suspense. Dick has to fight Tice in court to get the property back. More suspense. It’s colossal.”
“Where’s Dick getting the money for a lawyer?” Joe asked.
“That’s a detail for Curt to handle,” Amby said loftily. “He writes the show. I want to see new script by Friday.” He added, as he left: “We must have lunch together some day.”
Tony Vaux’s voice boomed in the reception-room, and his step volleyed in the corridor.
“Anything stirring, Joe?”
“Amby Carver changing Sue Davis.”
Tony chuckled. “Yeah? Wait until Curt hears that.” He picked the script from the desk and, as he read, he began to choke. “Typhoid? The fat-headed lug! Can’t you see it coming, Joe? He’ll have a doctor fall in love with Sue.” Tony held his sides and howled. “Typhoid! It’s a four-star final; it’s a panic. What wouldn’t I give to show this to Curt?”
“Won’t you?”
“Curt?” Tony pulled out a handkerchief and mopped a face that had begun to mottle. “He’d run out without his hat and try to pull Amby through a key-hole. No, no, Joe. This is where we do a smooth job with our eggs.” He called Amby at the Munson store.
Joe heard the rasp of a briskly important voice: “Good morning. This is the public-relations-radio office. Mr. Carver speaking.”