It took two and half days for Dewey to get to Hinton. His first stop was the newspaper office. He walked in the door and asked to see the editor.
“Down that hall and to the left,” the front desk receptionist pointed him to her right. “It’s the only office in that wing.” Her smile was professional and courteous. She inclined her head in the direction Dewey was to go, then warned him: “He comes across as a bear so don’t pay any attention to his gruff manner. He’s really a nice guy.”
“Thanks. ‘Preciate that.”
The hall was only about fifteen feet long and teed at the back of the building. The front room contained five desks. The office to the right of the tee was open and Dewey glanced that way. He could see printing equipment in there and someone standing at a typesetting machine.
He turned left as was directed and walked through the open door of the editor’s desk. A name plate proclaimed the man as one Roy Nelson.
Dewey waited a few silent moments while Roy was finishing his note-taking.
The editor held his pen in the air as he looked up. “Can I help you?” His voice was gruff and gravelly. “I’m a little busy here.”
Dewey held his hat ...