Signal in the Dark Read online

  CHAPTER 4 _THE MISSING PLATES_

  Salt did not criticise Penny when he learned exactly what had happened.

  "I'd rather lose a dozen pictures than have my camera smashed," hedeclared to cheer her. "Anyway, we may be able to trace the car and geteverything back. Remember the license number?"

  "D F 3005," Penny said promptly, and wrote it down lest she forget.

  "Let's call the license bureau and get the owner's name," thephotographer proposed, steering her toward a corner drugstore. "Gosh,it's late!" he added, noticing a clock in a store window. "And they'reholding the paper for our story and pictures!"

  "I certainly messed everything up," Penny said dismally. "At the moment,it seemed the thing to do. When those women started for me, I thought itwas the only way to save the camera."

  "Don't worry about it," Salt comforted. "I'll get the camera back."

  "But how will we catch the edition with your pictures?"

  "That's a horse of a different color," Salt admitted ruefully. "Anyway,it's my funeral. I'll tell DeWitt something."

  "I'll tell him myself," Penny said firmly. "I lost the pictures, and Iexpect to take responsibility for it."

  "Let's not worry ahead. Maybe we can trace that car if we have luck."

  Entering the drugstore, Penny immediately telephoned Editor DeWitt at the_Star_, reporting all the facts she had picked up.

  "Okay, that's fine," he praised. "One of our men reporters, Art Bailey,is on his way out there now. He'll take over. Tell Salt Sommers to get inhere fast with his pictures!"

  "He'll call you in just a minute or two," Penny said weakly.

  From another phone, Salt had been in touch with the license bureau. AsPenny left the booth to join him, she saw by the look of his face that hehad had no luck.

  "Couldn't you get the name of the owner?" she asked.

  "It's worse than that, Penny. The license was made out to a man by thename of A. B. Bettenridge. He lives at Silbus City."

  "Silbus City! At the far end of the state!"

  "That's the size of it."

  "But how did the car happen to be in Riverview?"

  "The man or his wife probably is visiting relatives here, or possiblyjust passing through the city."

  "And there's no way to trace them," Penny said, aghast. "Oh, Salt, I'venot only lost your pictures, but your camera as well!"

  "Cheer up," Salt said brusquely. "It's not that bad. We're sunk on thepictures, that's sure. But unless the people are dishonest, I'll get thecamera again. I'll write a letter to Silbus City, or if necessary, gothere myself."

  Penny had little to say as she rode back to the _Star_ office with thephotographer. Editor DeWitt was not in the newsroom when they returned,but they found him in the composing room, shouting at the printers whowere "making up the paper" to include the explosion story.

  Seeing Penny and Salt, he whirled around to face them. "Get any goodpictures?" he demanded.

  "We lost all of 'em," Salt confessed, his face long.

  "You what?"

  "Lost the pictures. The mob tore into us, and we were lucky to get backalive."

  DeWitt's stony gaze fastened briefly upon Salt's scratched face and tornclothing, "One of the biggest stories of the year, and you lose thepictures!" he commented.

  "It was my fault," Penny broke in. "I tossed the camera and plates into apassing car. I was trying to save them, but it didn't work out that way."

  DeWitt's eyebrows jerked upward and he listened without comment as Pennytold the story. Then he said grimly: "That's fine! That's just dandy!"and stalked out of the composing room.

  Penny gazed despairingly at Salt.

  "If you hadn't told him it was your fault, he'd have taken it okay," Saltsighed. "Oh, well, it was the only thing to do. Anyway, there's oneconsolation. He can't fire you."

  "I wish he would. Salt, I feel worse than a worm."

  "Oh, buck up, Penny! Things like this happen. One has to learn to takethe breaks."

  "Nothing like this ever happened before--I'm sure of that," Penny saiddismally. "What ought I to do, Salt?"

  "Not a thing," he assured her. "Just show up for work tomorrow the sameas ever and don't think any more about it. I'll get the camera back, andby tomorrow DeWitt will have forgotten everything."

  "You're very optimistic," Penny returned. "Very optimistic indeed."

  Not wishing to return through the newsroom, she slipped down the backstairs and took a bus home. The Parker house stood on a knoll high abovethe winding river and was situated in a lovely district of Riverview.Only a few blocks away lived Louise Sidell, who was Penny's closestfriend.

  Reluctant to face her father, Penny lingered for a while in the darkgarden, snipping a few roses. But presently a kitchen window flew up, andMrs. Maude Weems, the family housekeeper called impatiently:

  "Penny Parker, is that you prowling around out there? We had our dinnerthree hours ago. Will you please come in and explain what kept you solong?"

  Penny drew a deep sigh and went in out of the night. Mrs. Weems stared ather in dismay as she entered the kitchen.

  "Why, what have you done to yourself!" she exclaimed.

  "Nothing."

  "You look dreadful! Your hair isn't combed--your face is dirty--and yourclothes! Why, they smell of smoke!"

  "Didn't Dad tell you I started to work for the _Star_ today?" Pennyinquired innocently.

  "The very idea of you coming home three hours late, and looking as if youhad gone through the rollers of my washing machine! I'll tell your fathera thing or two!"

  Mrs. Weems had cared for Penny since the death of Mrs. Parker many yearsbefore. Although employed as a housekeeper, salary was no consideration,and she loved the girl as her own child. Penny and Mr. Parker regardedMrs. Weems almost as a member of the family.

  "Where is Dad?" Penny asked uneasily.

  "In the study."

  "Let's not disturb him now, Mrs. Weems. I'll just have a bite to eat andslip off to bed."

  "So you don't want to see your father?" the housekeeper demanded alertly."Why, may I ask? Is there more to this little escapade than meets theeye?"

  "Maybe," Penny admitted. Then she added earnestly: "Believe me, Mrs.Weems, I've had a wretched day. Tomorrow I'll tell you everything.Tonight I just want to get a hot bath and go to bed."

  Mrs. Weems instantly became solicitous. "You poor thing," she murmuredsympathetically. "I'll get you some hot food right away."

  Without asking another question, the housekeeper scurried about thekitchen, preparing supper. When it was set before her, Penny discoveredshe was not as hungry as she had thought. But because Mrs. Weems waswatching her anxiously, she ate as much as she could.

  After she had finished, she started upstairs. In passing her father'sstudy, she saw his eyes upon her. Before she could move on up the steps,he came to the doorway, noting her disheveled appearance.

  "A hard day at the office?" he inquired evenly.

  Penny could not know how much her father already had learned, but fromthe twinkle of his eyes she suspected that DeWitt had telephoned him thedetails of her disgrace.

  "Oh, just a little overtime work," she flung carelessly over hershoulder. "See you in the morning."

  Penny took a hot bath and climbed into bed. Then she climbed out againand carefully set the clock alarm for eight o'clock. Snuggling down oncemore, she went almost instantly to sleep.

  It seemed that she scarcely had closed her eyes when the alarm jangled inher ear. Drowsily, Penny reached and turned it off. She rolled over to goto sleep again, then suddenly realized she was a working woman and leapedfrom bed.

  She dressed hurriedly and joined her father at the breakfast table. Hehad two papers spread before him, the _Star_, and its rival, the _DailyTimes_. Penny knew from her father's expression that he had beencomparing the explosion stories of the two papers, and was not pleased.

  "Any news this morning?" sh
e inquired a bit too innocently.

  Her father shot back a quick, quizzical look, but gave no furtherindication that he suspected she might have had any connection with theConway Steel Plant story.

  "Oh, they did a little dynamiting last night," he replied, shoving thepapers toward her. "The _Times_ had very good pictures."

  Penny scanned the front pages. The story in the _Star_ was well written,with her own facts used, and a great many more supplied by otherreporters. But in comparison to the _Times_, the story seemed colorless.Pictures, she realized, made the difference. The _Times_ had publishedtwo of them which half covered the page.

  "Can't see how DeWitt slipped up," Mr. Parker said, shaking his headsadly. "He should have sent one of our photographers out there."

  "Dad--"

  Mr. Parker, who had finished his breakfast, hastily shoved back hischair. "Well, I must be getting to the office," he said. "Don't be late,Penny."

  "Dad, about that story last night--"

  "No time now," he interposed. "On a newspaper, yesterday's stories arebest forgotten."

  Penny understood then that her father already knew all the details of herdownfall. Relieved that there was no need to explain, she grinned andhurriedly ate her breakfast.

  Because her father had taken the car and gone on, she was compelled tobattle the crowd on the bus. The trip took longer than she had expected.Determined not to be late for work, she ran most of the way from the busstop to the office. By the time she had climbed the stairs to thenewsroom, she was almost breathless.

  As she came hurriedly through the swinging door, Elda Hunt, cool andserene, looked up from her typewriter.

  "Why the rush?" she drawled, but in a voice which carried clearly toeveryone in the room. "Are you going to another fire?"