As Penny and the photographer walked back to the theater entrance, a taxi skidded to a stop at the curb. Jerry alighted.
“Anything wrong?” he inquired, staring curiously at the pair.
Salt told him what had happened.
“Maybe you’ve got dynamite packed in that plate,”Jerry commented when he had heard the story. “Better shoot it to the office and have it developed.”
“I’m tied up here for half an hour at least.”
“Send it back by the cab driver. He can deliver it to DeWitt.”
“Good idea,” agreed Salt.
He scribbled a note to accompany the plate and gave it to the cab driver, together with the holder.
“Take good care of this,” he warned. “Don’t turn it over to any one except the city editor.”
After the cab had driven away, Salt, Jerry, and Penny re-entered the theater. Mr. Parker had come backstage and was talking earnestly to the doorman. Glimpsing the three, he exclaimed:
“There you are! And just in time too! The stunt goes on in five minutes.”
“Are the newsboys here?” Jerry asked. “And Johnny Bates, the electrician?”
“The boys are out front. Johnny’s waiting in the stage wings. Where’s the revolver, Salt?”
“I’ll get it,” Penny volunteered, starting for the dressing room.
The revolver lay where she had left it. As she reached for the weapon, she suddenly sniffed the air. Plainly she could smell strong cigarette smoke.
Penny glanced swiftly about the room. No one was there and she had seen no one enter in the last few minutes.
“Someone must have been here,” she thought. “Perhaps it was Old Jim, but he smokes a pipe.”
“Penny!” her father called impatiently from outside. “We haven’t much time.”
Picking up the revolver, she hurriedly joined him.
“Dad, why not call the stunt off?” she began. “Something might go wrong—”
“We can’t call it off now,” her father cut in impatiently. Taking the revolver from her hand he gave it to Jerry. “Do your stuff, my boy, and don’t be afraid to put plenty of heat into the argument. Remember your cue?”
“I’m to start talking just as soon as the Mayor finishes his speech.”
“He’s winding it up now. So get up there fast.”
As Jerry started up the stairway, Penny trailed him.
“Someone must have been in the dressing room after I left the revolver there,” she revealed nervously. “Be sure to check it before you turn it over to Mr. Bates.”
The reporter nodded, scarcely hearing her words. His ears were tuned to the Mayor’s closing lines. A ripple of applause from the audience told him the speech already had ended.
Taking the last few steps in a leap, Jerry reached the wings where John Bates was waiting. He gave him the revolver and at once plunged into his lines. So convincingly did he argue about the stage lights that Penny found herself almost believing the disagreement was genuine.
The argument waxed warmer, and the actors moved out on the stage in full view of the audience.
“Jerry’s good,” remarked Salt, who had joined Penny. “Didn’t know he had that much ham in him!”
The quarrel now had reached its climax. As if in a sudden fit of rage, the electrician raised the revolver and pointed it at Jerry.
“Take that—and that—and that!” he shouted, thrice pulling the trigger.
Jerry staggered back, clutching in the region of his heart. Slowly, his face contorted, he crumpled to the floor.
Scarcely had he collapsed, than newsboys armed with their papers, began to rush through the aisles of the theater.
“Read all about it!” they shouted. “Reporter Shot in Argument! Extra! Extra!”
The newspapermen chuckled at the joke as they accepted the free papers.
On the stage, Jerry still lay where he had fallen. The electrician, his part ended, had disappeared to attend to regular duties.
“Come on, Jerry!” Salt called to him. “What are you waiting for? More applause? Break it up!”
The reporter did not stir. But on the floor beside him, a small red stain began to spread in a widening circle.
Penny and Salt saw it at the same instant and were frozen with horror.
“Ring down the curtain!” the photographer cried hoarsely. “Jerry’s really been shot!”
CHAPTER 6
AMBULANCE CALL
Penny ran across the stage to kneel beside Jerry, who lay limp on the floor. In horror, she saw that the red stain covered a jagged area on his shirt front.
“Oh, Jerry!” she cried frantically. “Speak to me!”
The reporter groaned loudly and stirred.
“Hold me in your arms,” he whispered. “Let my last hours on this earth be happy ones.”
Penny’s hands dropped suddenly to her sides. She straightened up indignantly.
“You faker!” she accused. “I should think you’d be ashamed to frighten us so! That’s not blood on your shirt! It’s red ink!”
Jerry sat up, chuckling. “Ruined a good shirt too!”
“You shouldn’t have done it,” Penny said, still provoked.
“I wanted to put a little drama into the act. Also, I was curious to see how you would react.”
Penny tossed her head, starting away. “You needn’t be so smug about it, Jerry Livingston! And don’t flatter yourself I was concerned about you! I was thinking what a scandal it would mean for Dad and the paper!”
“Oh, sure,” Jerry agreed, pursuing her backstage and down a corridor. “Listen, Penny, it was only a joke—”
“Not a very funny one!”
“Penny, I’m sorry—I really am. I didn’t realize anyone would get so worked up about it.”
“I’m not worked up!” Penny denied, spinning on a heel to face him. “It just gave me a little shock, that’s all. First, that threat from Danny Deevers. Then when I saw you flattened out, for a minute I thought someone had substituted a real bullet in the revolver and that you had been shot.”
“It was a rummy joke—I realize that now. Forgive me, will you, Penny?”
“I suppose so. Just don’t try anything like it again.”
“I won’t,” Jerry promised. “Now that my part is finished here, suppose we go somewhere for a bite to eat?”
“With that blotch of red ink on your shirt front?”
“Oh, I’ll change it. I brought an extra shirt along. Wait here and I’ll be right with you.”
Jerry stepped into the dressing room to make the change. Penny, while waiting, wandered back to the stage wings to talk to Salt. However, the photographer had gone out front and was busily engaged taking pictures of visiting celebrities.
After a few minutes, Penny went downstairs again. Jerry was nowhere to be seen.
The door of the dressing room stood slightly ajar. Penny tapped lightly on it, calling: “Get a move on, Jerry! You’re slower than a snail!”
No answer came from inside.
Penny paced up and down the corridor and returned to listen at the door. She could hear no sound inside the room.
“Jerry, are you there?” she called again. “If you are, answer!”
Still there was no reply.
“Now where did he go?” Penny thought impatiently.
She hesitated a moment, then pushed open the door. Jerry’s stained shirt lay on the floor where he had dropped it.
The reporter no longer was in the dressing room. Or so Penny thought at first glance.
But as her gaze roved slowly about, she was startled to see a pair of shoes protruding from a hinged decorative screen which stood in one corner of the room.
Jerry, very definitely was attached to the shoes. Stretched out on the floor again, his face remained hidden from view.
Penny resisted an impulse to run to his side.
“Jerry Livingston!” she exclaimed. “You’ve carried your stupid joke entirely too far! Our date is off!”
Turning her back, she started away. But in the doorway, something held her. She glanced back.
Jerry had not moved.
“Jerry, get up!” she commanded. “Please!”
The reporter made not the slightest response. Penny told herself that Jerry was only trying to plague her, yet she could not leave without being absolutely certain.
Though annoyed at herself for such weakness, she walked across the room to jerk aside the decorative screen.
Jerry lay flat on his back, eyelids closed. A slight gash was visible on the side of his head where the skin was bruised.
One glance convinced Penny that the reporter was not shamming this time. Obviously, he had been knocked unconscious, perhaps by a fall.
“Jerry!” she cried, seizing his hand which was cold to the touch.
Badly frightened, Penny darted to the door and called loudly for help.
Without waiting to learn if anyone had heard her cry, she rushed back to Jerry. On the dressing table nearby stood a pitcher of water and a glass.
Wetting a handkerchief, Penny pressed it to the reporter’s forehead. It seemed to produce no effect. In desperation, she then poured half a glass of water over his face.
To her great relief, Jerry sputtered and his eyelids fluttered open.
“For crying out loud!” he muttered. “What you trying to do? Drown me?”
Raising a hand to his head, the reporter gingerly felt of a big bump which had risen there. He pulled himself to a sitting position.
“What happened, Jerry?” Penny asked after giving him a few minutes to recover his senses. “Did you trip and fall?”
The question seemed to revive Jerry completely. Without answering, he got to his feet, and walked unsteadily to the window overlooking the alley.
Penny then noticed for the first time that it was open. She also became aware of a heavy scent of tobacco smoke in the room—the same cigarette odor she had noticed earlier. Now however, it was much stronger.
Jerry peered out the window. “He’s gone!” he mumbled.
“Who, Jerry? Tell me what happened.”
“Things aren’t too clear in my mind,” the reporter admitted, sinking into a chair. “Wow! My head!”
“Did someone attack you?”
“With a blackjack. I came in here and changed my shirt. Had a queer feeling all the while, as if someone were in the room.”
“Were you smoking a cigarette, Jerry?”
“Why, no.”
“Did you notice smoke in the room? The odor still is here.”
Jerry sniffed the air. “Neco’s,” he decided. “They’re one of the strongest cigarettes on the market and not easy to get. Now that you mention it, the odor was in the room when I came in! But I didn’t think about it at the time.”
“Then whoever struck you must have been in here waiting!”
“Sure. Whoever it was, came in the window. He was hidden behind that screen. As I started to leave, he reared up and let me have it from behind! That’s all I remember.”
“Then you didn’t see him?”
“No, it happened too fast.”
“Jerry, it may have been Danny Deevers!”
“Maybe so,” the reporter agreed. “But I always figured if he caught up with me, he wouldn’t fool around with any rabbit punches.”
“He may have been frightened away, hearing me in the hall,” Penny said. “Jerry, do you have other enemies besides Danny?”
“Dozens of them probably. Every reporter has. But I don’t know of anyone who hates me enough to try to lay me out.”
The dressing room door now swung open to admit Mr. Parker and several other newspapermen.
“Penny, did you call for help?” her father demanded. “What’s wrong?”
“Jerry was slugged,” Penny answered, and told what had happened.
“How do you feel, Jerry?” the publisher inquired. “That’s a nasty looking bump on your head.”
“I’m fit as a fiddle and ready for a dinner date,”Jerry announced brightly, winking at Penny. “How about it?”
“Well, I don’t know,” she replied. “Are you sure you feel up to it?”
“I’m fine.” To prove his words, Jerry got to his feet. He started across the room, weaving unsteadily.
Had not Mr. Parker and another man seized him by the arms, he would have slumped to the floor.
“Jerry, you’re in no shape for anything except a hospital checkup,” the publisher said firmly. “That’s where you’re going!”
“Oh, Chief, have a heart!”
Mr. Parker turned a deaf ear upon the appeal.
“For all we know, you may have a fractured skull,” he said, helping to ease the reporter into a chair. “We’ll have you X-rayed.”
“I don’t want to be X-rayed,” Jerry protested. “I’m okay.”
“Besides, with Danny Deevers still at large, a hospital is a nice safe place,” Mr. Parker continued, thinking aloud. “Perhaps we can arrange for you to stay there a week.”
“A week! Chief, I’m not going!”
“No arguments,” said Mr. Parker. “You’re the same as in Riverview Hospital now. Penny, telephone for an ambulance.”
CHAPTER 7
AN EMPTY BED
At Riverview hospital twenty minutes later, Jerry was given a complete physical check-up.
“The X-rays won’t be developed for another half hour,” an interne told him, “but you seem to be all right.”
“I not only seem to be, I am,” the reporter retorted. “Told you that when I came here! But would anyone listen to me?”
“Twenty-four hours rest will fix you right up. We have a nice private room waiting for you on the third floor. Bath and everything.”
“Now listen!” exclaimed Jerry. “You said yourself I’m all right. I’m walking out of here now!”
“Sorry. Orders are you’re in for twenty-four hours observation.”
“Whose orders?”
“Dr. Bradley. He had a little talk with the publisher of your paper—”
“Oh, I get it! A conspiracy! They’re keeping me here to keep me from checking up on Danny Deevers!”
“What’s that?” the interne inquired curiously.
“Never mind,” returned Jerry, closing up like a clam. “I’ll slip you a fiver to get me out of here.”
“Sorry. No can do.”
The interne went to the door, motioning for two other internes who came in with a stretcher.
“Hop aboard,” he told Jerry. “Better come peaceably.”
Jerry considered resistance. Deciding it was useless, he rolled onto the stretcher and was transported via the elevator to the third floor. There he was deposited none too ceremoniously in a high bed.
“Just to make sure you stay here, I’m taking your clothes,” said the interne. “Now just relax and take it easy.”
“Relax!”
“Sure, what you got to kick about? Your bills are all being paid. You get twenty-four hours rest, a good looking nurse, and a radio. Also three meals thrown in.”
Jerry settled back into the pillow. “Maybe you’ve got something after all,” he agreed.
“That’s the attitude, boy. Well, I’ll be seeing you.”
Satisfied that Jerry would make no more trouble, he took his clothes and went outside.
Penny and Salt, who had been waiting in the reception room below, stepped from the elevator at that moment.
“How is Jerry?” Penny inquired anxiously as she stopped the interne in the corridor.
“He’s all right. Go on in if you want to talk to him.”
“Which room?”
“Wait until I put these clothes away and I’ll show you.”
The interne hung Jerry’s suit in a locker at the end of the corridor and then returned to escort Penny and Salt to Room 318.
Jerry, a picture of gloom, brightened as his friends entered.
“I’m sure glad you came!” he greeted them. “I want you to hel
p me get out of here.”
“Not a chance,” said Salt, seating himself on the window ledge. “This is just the place for you—nice and quiet and safe.”
Jerry snorted with disgust.
“Dad and Mr. DeWitt both think Danny Deevers means business,” Penny added. “The paper is offering $10,000 reward for his capture.”
“Ten thousand smackers! I could use that money myself. And I have a hunch about Danny—”
“Forget it,” Salt advised. “This is a case for the police. Just lie down like a nice doggy and behave yourself. We’ll keep you informed on the latest news.”
“That reminds me,” added Penny. “After the ambulance took you away, Dad had the theater searched and the alley. No clues.”
Jerry lay still for several minutes, his eyes focused thoughtfully on the ceiling. “If it’s the verdict that I stay here, I suppose I may as well give up and take my medicine.”
“Now you’re showing sense,” approved Salt. “Penny and I have an idea that may help trace Deevers. We’ll tell you about it later.”
“Sure,” retorted Jerry ironically, “spare me the shock now. By the way, did you meet an interne in the hall? He was carrying off my clothes.”
“Yes, he brought us here,” Penny nodded.
“You didn’t happen to notice where he hid my clothes?”
“They’re safe, Jerry,” Penny assured him. “In a locker at the end of the hall.”
The information seemed to satisfy Jerry. Wrapping himself like a cocoon in a blanket, he burrowed down and closed his eyes.
“I want to catch forty winks now,” he said. “If you folks have a big idea that will lead to Danny’s capture, don’t let me detain you.”
“Jerry, don’t be cross with us,” Penny pleaded. “We know how you feel, but honestly, you’ll be so much safer here.”
Jerry pretended not to hear.
After a moment, Salt and Penny quietly left the room.
“He’s taking it hard,” the photographer commented as they sped in the press car toward the Riverview Star building. “In a way, you can’t blame him. Jerry’s not the type to be shut up in a nice safe place.”
“Dad wants to keep him in the hospital until Danny Deevers is captured, but it will be hard to do it.”
Salt, driving with one hand, looked at his watch.
“It’s after nine o’clock,” he announced. “Penny, you’ve missed the dinner at the Hillcrest.”
The Penny Parker Megapack: 15 Complete Novels Page 177
