The Penny Parker Megapack: 15 Complete Novels

by Mildred Benson

  “I thought a cannon had gone off when the shutter clicked,” Penny laughed. “We were lucky you weren’t caught.”

  Emerging from behind the trees, they obtained their first view of the Kippenberg house. Sturdily built of brick and stone, it stood upon a slight hill, its many turrets and towers commanding a view of the two rivers.

  “Nice layout,” Salt commented, pausing to snap a second picture. “Wish someone would give me a castle for a playhouse.”

  They crossed the moat and found themselves directly behind Grant Atherwald again. Before the bridegroom could enter the house a servant stepped forward and handed him a sealed envelope.

  “I was told to give this to you as soon as you arrived, sir,” he said.

  Grant Atherwald nodded, and taking the letter, quickly opened it. A troubled expression came over his face as he scanned the message. Without a word he thrust the paper into his pocket. Turning, he walked swiftly toward the garden.

  “Salt, did you notice how queerly Atherwald looked—” Penny began, but the photographer interrupted her.

  “Listen,” he said, “we haven’t a Chinaman’s chance of getting in the front door. That boy in the fancy knickers is giving everyone the once over. Let’s try a side entrance.”

  Without attracting attention they walked quickly around the house and located a door where no servant had been posted. Entering, they passed through a marble-floored vestibule into a breakfast room crowded with serving tables. Salt nonchalantly helped himself to an olive from one of the large glass dishes and led Penny on toward the main hall where many of the guests had gathered to admire the wedding gifts.

  “Now don’t swipe any of the silver,” Salt said jokingly. “I think that fellow over by the stairway is a private detective.”

  “He seems to be looking at us with a suspicious gleam in his eyes,” Penny replied. “I hope we don’t get tossed out of here.”

  “We’ll be all right if Mrs. Kippenberg doesn’t see us before the ceremony.”

  “Do you suppose Mr. Kippenberg could be here, Salt?”

  “Not likely. It’s my guess that fellow will never be seen again.”

  “Dad doesn’t share your opinion.”

  “I know,” Salt admitted. “We’ll keep watch for him, but it would just be a lucky break if it turns out he’s here.”

  Mingling with the guests, they walked slowly about a long table where the wedding gifts were displayed. Penny gazed curiously at dishes of solid silver, crystal bowls, candlesticks, jade ornaments, tea sets and service plates encrusted with gold.

  “Nothing trashy here,” muttered Salt.

  “I’ve never seen such an elegant display,” Penny whispered in awe. “Do you suppose that picture is one of the gifts?”

  She indicated an oil painting which stood on an easel not far from the table. So many guests had gathered about the picture that she could not see it distinctly. But at her elbow, a woman in rustling silk, said to a companion:

  “My dear, a genuine Van Gogh! It must have cost a small fortune!”

  When the couple had moved aside, Penny and Salt drew closer to the easel. One glance assured them that the painting had been executed by a master. However, it was the subject of the picture which gave Penny a distinct start.

  “Will you look at that!” she whispered to Salt.

  “What about it?” he asked carelessly.

  “Don’t you notice anything significant?”

  “Can’t say I do. It’s just a nice picture of a drawbridge.”

  “That’s just the point, Salt!” Penny’s eyes danced with excitement. “A drawbridge!”

  The photographer glanced again at the painting, this time with deeper interest.

  “Say, it looks a lot like the bridge which was built over the river,” he observed. “You think this picture is a copy of it?”

  Penny shook her head impatiently. “Salt, your knowledge of art is dreadful. This Van Gogh was painted ages ago and is priceless. Don’t you see, the drawbridge has to be a copy of the picture?”

  “Your theory sounds reasonable,” Salt admitted. “I wonder who gave the painting to the bride? There’s no name attached.”

  “Can’t you guess why?”

  “I never was good at kid games.”

  “Why, it’s clear as crystal,” Penny declared, keeping her voice low. “This estate with the drawbridge was built by Clayton Kippenberg. He must have been familiar with the Van Gogh painting, and had the real bridge modeled after the picture. For that matter, the painting may have been in his possession—”

  “Then you think the picture was presented to Sylvia Kippenberg by her father?” Salt broke in quickly.

  “Yes, I do. Only a person very close to the bride would have given such a gift.”

  “H-m,” said Salt, squinting at the picture thoughtfully. “If you’re right it means that Clayton Kippenberg’s whereabouts must be known to his family. His disappearance may not be such a deep mystery to Mamma Kippenberg and daughter Sylvia.”

  “Oh, Salt, wouldn’t it make a grand story if only we could learn what became of him?”

  “Sure. Front page stuff.”

  “We simply must get the story somehow! If Mrs. Kippenberg would just answer our questions about this drawbridge painting—”

  “I’m afraid Mamma Kippenberg isn’t going to break down and tell all,” Salt said dryly. “But buckle on your steel armor, little girl, because here she comes now!”

  CHAPTER 4

  BEHIND THE BUSHES

  A large, middle-aged woman in rose-colored silk, crossed the room directly toward Salt and Penny. Her pale blue eyes glinted with anger and there were hard lines about her mouth. She walked haughtily, but with grim purpose.

  “Unless we do some fast talking, out we go!” muttered Salt. “It’s Mrs. Kippenberg, all right.”

  They stood their ground, knowing they had been recognized as intruders. But before the woman could reach them she was stopped by a servant who spoke a few words in a low tone. For a moment Mrs. Kippenberg forgot about Penny and Salt as a new problem presented itself.

  “I can’t talk with anyone now,” she said in an agitated voice. “Tell them to come back later.”

  “They insist upon talking with you now, Madam,” replied the servant. “Unless you see them they say they will look around for themselves.”

  “Oh!” Mrs. Kippenberg drew herself up sharply as if from a physical blow. “Where are they now?”

  “In the library, Madam.”

  Penny did not hear the woman’s reply, but she turned and followed the servant.

  “Saved by the bell,” mumbled Salt. “Now let’s get away from here before she comes back.”

  They pushed through the throng and reached a long hallway. Mrs. Kippenberg had disappeared, but as they drew near an open door they caught sight of her again. She stood just inside the library, her back toward them, talking with two men who wore plain gray business suits.

  Penny half drew back, fearing discovery, but Salt pulled her along. As they went quietly past the door they heard Mrs. Kippenberg say in an excited voice:

  “No, no, I tell you he isn’t here! Why should I try to deceive you? We have nothing to hide. You are most inconsiderate to annoy me at such a time!”

  Penny and Salt did not hear the reply. They reached an outside door and stepped down on a flagstone terrace which overlooked the garden at the rear of the grounds.

  “Who were those men, do you suppose?” Penny whispered, fearful that her voice might betray them.

  “Officers of the law, I should guess,” Salt replied in an undertone.

  “Government men?”

  “Likely as not. I don’t believe the locals would bother her. Anyway she’s got the wind up and you can tell she’s scared silly in spite of all her back talk.”

  “You know what I think they’re after?” Penny said thoughtfully.

  “Well, if I had just one guess,” Salt replied, “I’d say they are after Mr. Kippenberg.
”

  “I agree with you there.”

  “Sure, why else would they come sleuthing around at a time like this? The answer is simple. Daughter gets married. Papa wants to see his darling do it. Therefore, boys, we’ll spread a net for Daddy and he might plump right into it.”

  “So that’s the way a G man’s mind works?” laughed Penny.

  “But I would take it that Kippenberg is no fool,”Salt went on. “If they really have a ‘man wanted’ sign hung on him he would be too cagey to come around here today.”

  They were standing beside the stone balustrade which bounded the terrace. Below them the green foliage of the gardens formed a dark background for the playing fountains. A cool breeze drifted in from the river and rattled a window awning just over their heads.

  “We’re in an exposed place here,” observed Salt uneasily. “Maybe we ought to find a hole somewhere.”

  “We’ll never learn anything in a hole,” Penny objected. “In fact, we’re not making much progress in running down any sort of story. I do wish we could have heard more of that conversation.”

  “And get thrown out on our collective ear before we even have a chance to snap a picture of the blushing bride!”

  “Pictures! Pictures!” exclaimed Penny. “That’s all you photographers think about. How about poor little me and my story? After all, you can’t bring out a paper full of nothing but pictures and cigarette ads. You need a little news to go with it.”

  “You like to work too fast,” complained Salt. “Right now the thing to do is to keep out of sight. I’m telling you the minute Mrs. Kippy finishes with those men she’ll be gunning for us.”

  “Then I suppose we’ll have to go into hiding.”

  “First, let’s mosey out into the rose garden,” Salt proposed. “I’ll take a few shots and then we’ll duck under somewhere and wait until the ceremony starts.”

  “That’s all very well for you,” grumbled Penny,“but I can’t write much of a story without talking to some member of the family.”

  Salt started off across the velvety green lawn toward the rose arbor where the service was to be held. Penny followed reluctantly. She watched the photographer take several pictures before a servant approached him.

  “I beg your pardon,” the man said coldly, “but Mrs. Kippenberg gave orders no pictures were to be taken. If you are from one of the papers—”

  “Oh, I saw her in the house just a minute ago,”Salt replied carelessly.

  “Sorry, sir,” the servant apologized, retreating.

  Salt finished taking the pictures and slipped the miniature camera back into his pocket.

  “Now let’s amble down toward the river and wait,” he said to Penny. “We’ll blossom forth just as the ceremony starts. Mrs. Kippy won’t dare interrupt it to have us thrown off the grounds.”

  They walked down a sloping path, past a glass-enclosed hothouse and on toward a grove of giant oak and maple trees.

  “It’s pleasant here when you’re away from the crowd,” Penny remarked, gazing up at the leafy canopy. “I wonder where this path leads?”

  “Oh, down to the river probably. With water on three sides of us that’s a fairly safe guess.”

  “Which rivers flow past the estate, Salt?”

  “The Big Bear and the Kobalt.”

  “The same old muddy Kobalt which is near our town,” said Penny in surprise. “I’ll always think of it as a river of adventure.”

  “Because of Mud-Cat Joe and his Vanishing Houseboat?”

  Penny nodded and a dreamy look came into her eyes. “So much happened on the Kobalt, Salt. Remember that big party Dad threw at the Comstock Inn?”

  “Do I? Jerry Livingston decided to sleep in Room Seven where so many persons had disappeared.”

  “And then he was spirited away almost before our very eyes,” added Penny. “Days later Mud-Cat Joe helped me fish him out of this same old Kobalt. For awhile we didn’t think he’d ever pull through or be able to tell what had happened to him.”

  “But as the grand finale you and your friend, Louise Sidell, solved the mystery and secured a dandy story for the Star. Those were the days!”

  “You talk as if they were gone forever,” laughed Penny. “Other good stories will come along.”

  “Maybe,” said Salt, “but covering a wedding is pretty tame in comparison.”

  “Yet this one does have interesting angles,” Penny insisted. “Can’t you almost feel mystery lurking about the place?”

  “No, but I do feel a mosquito sinking his stinger into me.” Salt slapped vigorously at his ankle.

  They followed the path on toward the river, coming soon to a trail which branched off to the right. Across it had been stretched a wire barrier and a neatly lettered sign read:

  NO ADMITTANCE BEYOND THIS POINT.

  “Why do you suppose the path is blocked off?”Penny speculated.

  “Let’s find out,” Salt suggested with a sudden flare of interest. “Maybe we’ll run into something worth a picture.”

  Penny hesitated, not wishing to disregard the sign, yet eager to learn what lay beyond the barrier.

  “Listen,” said Salt, “just put your little conscience on ice. We’re here to get the ‘who, when, why and where.’ You’ll never be a first class newspaper reporter if you stifle your curiosity.”

  “Lead on,” laughed Penny. “I will follow. Only isn’t it getting late?”

  Salt looked at his watch. “We still have a safe fifteen minutes.”

  He started to step over the wire, only to have Penny reach out and grasp his hand.

  “Wait!” she whispered.

  “What’s the idea?” Salt turned toward her in astonishment.

  “I think someone is watching us! I’m sure I saw the bushes move.”

  “Your nerves are jumpy,” Salt jeered. “It’s only the wind.”

  Even as he spoke the foliage to the left moved ever so slightly and a dark form could be seen creeping stealthily away along the ground.

  CHAPTER 5

  THE MISSING BRIDEGROOM

  Salt acted instinctively. Leaping over the wire barrier he dived into the bushes. Hurling himself upon the man who crouched there, he pinned him to the ground. The fellow gave a choked cry and tried to pull free.

  “Oh, no, you don’t,” Salt muttered, coolly sitting down on his stomach. “Snooping, eh?”

  “You let me up!” the man cried savagely. “Let me up, I say!”

  “I’ll let you up when you explain what you were doing here.”

  “Why, you impudent young pup!” the man spluttered. “You’re the one who will explain. I am Mrs. Kippenberg’s head gardener.”

  Salt’s hand fell from the old man’s collar and he apologetically helped him to his feet. Penny, who had reached the scene, stooped down and recovered a trowel which had slipped from the gardener’s grasp.

  “It was just a little mistake on my part,” Salt mumbled. “I hope I didn’t hurt you.”

  “No fault of yours you didn’t,” the old man snapped. “A fine howdydo when a person can’t even loosen earth around a shrub without being assaulted by a ruffian!”

  The gardener was a short, stout man with graying hair. He wore coarse garments, a loose fitting pair of trousers, a dark shirt and battered felt hat. But Penny noticed that his hands and fingernails were clean and there were no trowel marks around any of the shrubs.

  “Salt isn’t exactly a ruffian,” she said as the photographer offered no defense. “After all, from where we stood it looked exactly as if you were hiding in the bushes.”

  “Then you both need glasses,” the man retorted rudely. “A person can’t work without getting down on his hands and knees.”

  “Where were you digging?” Penny asked innocently.

  “I was just starting in when this young upstart leaped on my back!”

  “Sorry,” said Salt, “but I thought you were trying to get away.”

  “Who are you anyway?” the gardener demanded blunt
ly. “You’re not guests. I can tell that.”

  “You have a very discerning eye,” replied Salt smoothly. “We’re from the Riverview Star.”

  “Reporters, eh?” The old man scowled unpleasantly. “Then you’ve no business being here at all. You’re not wanted, so get out!”

  “We’re only after a few facts about the wedding,”Penny said. “Perhaps you would be willing to tell me—”

  “I’ll tell you nothing, Miss! If anything is given out to the papers it will have to come from Mrs. Kippenberg.”

  “Fair enough,” Salt acknowledged. He glanced curiously down the path which had been blocked off. “What’s down there?”

  “Nothing.” The gardener spoke irritably. “This part of the estate hasn’t been fixed up. That’s why it’s closed.”

  Penny had bent down, pretending to examine a shrub at the edge of the path.

  “What is the name of this bush?” she inquired casually.

  “An azalea,” the gardener replied after a slight hesitation. “Now get out of here, will you? I have my work to do.”

  “Oh, all right,” Salt rejoined as he and Penny moved away. “No need to get so tough.”

  They stepped over the barrier wire and retraced their way toward the house. Several times Penny glanced back but she could not see the old man. He had slipped away somewhere among the trees.

  “I don’t believe that fellow was a gardener,” she said suddenly.

  “What makes you think not?”

  “Didn’t you notice his nice clean hands and fingernails? And then when I asked him the name of that bush he hesitated and called it an azalea. I saw another long botanical name attached to it.”

  “Maybe he just made a mistake, or said the first thing that came into his head. He wanted to get rid of us.”

  “I know he did,” nodded Penny. “Yet, when he found out we were from the Star he didn’t threaten to report us to Mrs. Kippenberg.”

  “That’s so.”

  “He was afraid to report us,” Penny went on with conviction. “I’ll bet a cent he has no more right here than we have.”

  Salt had lost all interest in the gardener. He glanced at his watch and quickened his step.