“All right, all right. It’s my story, my by-line. She’s just there for input. Agreed.”

Stanley laid his pipe down in an overflowing ashtray to run his hands through his spiky gray hair. “I should be in the barbershop getting a haircut instead of talking to you, Denville. Go on, get out of here. Myrna!” he bellowed at the top of his lungs.

A twenty-nine-year-old Orphan Annie look-alike poked her head in the door. “We have an intercom, Stanley. You interrupted my train of thought. By the way, that’s an ugly tie you’re wearing. What?” she demanded.

“You’re going to Vermont for two days with Denville. You can thank me later.”

“I don’t want to go to Vermont, Stanley. I’m right in the middle of that downtown zoning thing.”

“Turn it over to Wexler. I didn’t ask you if you wanted to go to Vermont, Myrna. The two of you need to clear out of here so I can get some work done. This better be good, Denville, or you’re gonna find yourself in the tall grass. That goes for you, too, Myrna. Don’t make me regret my decision.”

Outside in the bright spring sunshine, Myrna Davis held up her hand for Larry to stop. “I just need to get my weekend bag out of my car.”

“You keep a packed bag in your car?” His voice sounded so suspicious, Myrna winked. “You never know, I might get lucky.”

“Oh.”

The lanky Myrna was back in minutes, a dark green duffel bag slung over her shoulder.

“It looks heavy,” Larry said.

“I require a lot of gear. Blow-dryer, iron, clothes, prepackaged food. Essentials. You know, stuff. Everyone has stuff. I’m always ready to go at a moment’s notice. I keep hoping for a big story, a scoop, where I take off in the blink of an eye. I’d have made a great foreign correspondent.” She continued to babble, as Larry stowed her gear in the trunk of his car. She was still babbling when he exited the parking lot and headed for the turnpike.

Myrna took a deep breath. “So, fill me in. Don’t leave anything out; otherwise, I won’t be able to make an accurate deduction. Remember, we need two sources on everything.” She stretched her long skinny legs out in front of her, then moved the seat back for more leg room.

“We don’t need two sources. We’re talking to the principals. I use a recorder. It’s on at all times. If you’ll shut up for five minutes, I’ll clue you in to the way it’s shaking down.”

Myrna looked at him in awe. “Talk. By the way, I have total recall, so anything you say will automatically be recorded in my brain. Just ask me anything. Anything at all, and I can tell you back to when I was three years old. My brain is like a big catalog.” Her voice rang with happiness and excitement.

“Shut up, Myrna, and listen. Don’t make a sound. Not a peep. I like to think when I drive. I play music because it soothes my tattered nerves. Chatter sets my teeth on edge. Are we clear on all this?”