The Penny Parker Megapack: 15 Complete Novels

by Mildred Benson

“I wouldn’t lie if I were you,” advised Penny. “The police are certain to break down your story. In any case, you owe it to yourself and your employers to tell the truth.”

  A misty rain had started to fall. The maid, who was without a wrap, shivered, yet made no move to re-enter the building. Overhead, all along the dark expanse of apartment wall, lights were being turned on.

  “I am afraid your scream aroused nearly everyone in the building,” said Penny. “If I were in your place I would return to the Kohl apartment and not answer many questions until the police arrive.”

  “Will you stay with me?”

  “Gladly.”

  The apartment door had slammed shut and locked with the night latch. Fortunately the maid had a key with her so it was not necessary to ring for the janitor. Ignoring the persons who had gathered in the hall, they took an automatic lift to the third floor, letting themselves into the Kohl suite.

  “This is the way I found it,” said the maid.

  She switched on a light, revealing a living room entirely bare of rugs. Where three small Oriental rugs had been placed, only rectangular rims of dirt remained to mark their outlines.

  Beyond, in the dining room with its massive carved furniture, the contents of a buffet had been emptied on the floor. Several pieces of china lay in fragments. A corner cupboard had been stripped, save for a vase and an ebony elephant with a broken tusk.

  “The wall cabinet was filled with rare antiques,” disclosed the maid. “Mrs. Kohl has collected Early American silver for many years. Some of the pieces she considered priceless.”

  The bedrooms were in less disorder. However, bureau drawers had been overturned, and jewel cases looted of everything save the most trivial articles.

  “Mrs. Kohl’s pearls are gone, and her diamond bracelet,” the maid informed, picking up the empty jewel box. “I am pretty sure she didn’t wear them to the theatre.”

  “I wouldn’t touch anything if I were you,” advised Penny. “Fingerprints.”

  The maid dropped the case. “Oh!” she gasped. “I never thought of that! Do you think the police will blame me for the robbery?”

  “Not if you tell them the truth. It surely will be unwise to try to hide anything.”

  “I won’t hold anything back,” the maid promised. “It happened just like I said. After Mr. and Mrs. Kohl left I went to a picture show.”

  “Alone?”

  “With my girl friend. After the show we had a soda together, and then she went home.”

  “What time did you get here?”

  “Only a minute or two before I called for help. I tried the telephone first.”

  “Why didn’t you summon the janitor?”

  “I never thought of that. I was so excited I ran outside hoping to find a policeman.”

  Penny nodded and, returning to the living room, satisfied herself that the telephone wires actually had been cut.

  “You didn’t notice anyone in the halls as you went downstairs.”

  “No one. Old Mr. Veely was on the lower floor when I came from the show, but he’s lived here for seven years. I don’t see how the burglar got into the apartment.”

  “I was wondering about that myself. You’re quite sure you locked the suite door?”

  “Oh, yes, I know I did,” the maid said emphatically. “And it isn’t possible to get into the building without a key. Otherwise, the janitor must be called.”

  Penny walked thoughtfully to the living room window. The apartment stood fully thirty-five feet from a neighboring building, with the space between much too wide to be spanned. Below, the alley was deserted, and no fire escape ascended from it.

  “The burglar couldn’t have entered that way,” declared the maid. “He must have had his own key.”

  Before Penny could respond, a sharp knock sounded on the door. The servant girl turned to open it. However, instead of the anticipated police, the apartment janitor, George Bailey, peered into the disordered room.

  “I heard someone scream a minute or so ago,” he said. “Some of the tenants thought it came from this apartment. Maybe they were mistaken.”

  “There’s no mistake,” spoke Penny from across the room. “The Kohls have been robbed. Will you please come inside and close the door?”

  “Robbed! You don’t say!” The janitor stared with alarmed interest. “When did it happen?”

  Penny allowed the maid to tell what had occurred, adding no information of her own. When there came a lull in the excited flow of words, she said quietly:

  “Mr. Bailey, do you mind answering a few questions?”

  “Why should I?” the janitor countered. “I’ll tell you right now I know nothing about this. I’ve attended strictly to my duties. It’s not my lookout if tenants leave their suite doors unlocked.”

  “No one is blaming you,” Penny assured him. “I merely thought you might contribute to a solution of the burglary.”

  “I don’t know a thing about it.”

  “You didn’t let anyone into the apartment building tonight?”

  “Not a soul. I locked the service door at six o’clock, too. Now let me ask this: Who are you, and how did you get in here?”

  “That’s fair enough,” smiled Penny. She told her name, explained that she was an acquaintance of the Kohls, and had been summoned by the maid.

  “Please don’t think that I am trying to play detective,” she added. “I ask these questions in the hope of gaining information for my father’s paper, the Star.”

  “Well, it looks to me as if it was an inside job,” the janitor replied, mollified. “Come to think of it though, I’ve seen a suspicious-acting fellow hanging around the building.”

  “You mean tonight?”

  “No, several days ago. He stayed on the other side of the street and kept watching the doorway.”

  “What did he look like, Mr. Bailey?”

  “Oh, I don’t remember. He was just an average young man in a gray overcoat and hat.”

  “Gray?” repeated Penny alertly.

  “It may have been light blue. I didn’t pay much attention. At the time I sized up the fellow as a detective.”

  Penny had no opportunity to ask additional questions for just then voices were heard in the hallway. As she opened the door, Jerry Livingston, followed by a policeman, came toward her.

  “Learn anything?” the reporter asked softly in her ear.

  “A little,” answered Penny. “Let’s see how much the officer turns up before I go into my song and dance.”

  Making a routine inspection of the rooms, the police questioned both the maid and the janitor. From an elderly lady who occupied the adjoining suite he gleaned information that the Kohls’ telephone had rung steadily for fifteen minutes during the early evening hours.

  “What time was that?” interposed Penny.

  The policeman gazed at her with sharp disapproval. “Please,” he requested with exaggerated politeness.

  “Sorry,” apologized Penny, fading into the background.

  “It rang about eight o’clock,” the old lady revealed.

  “The information is not significant,” said the officer, glancing again at Penny.

  She started to speak, then bit her lip, remaining silent.

  “Well, sister, what’s on your mind?” he demanded abruptly.

  “Excuse me, officer, but I think the information does have importance. Couldn’t it mean that the crooks, whoever they were, telephoned the apartment to make certain it was deserted before breaking in?”

  “Possibly,” conceded the policeman. His frown discouraged her. “Any other theories?”

  “No,” said Penny shortly.

  The policeman began to herd the tenants into the hall. For a moment he paid no attention to Penny and Jerry, who with the maid were permitted to remain.

  “Never try to show up a policeman, even if he is a stuffed shirt,” remarked the reporter softly. “It gets you nowhere.”

  The door closed and the officer faced the
pair.

  “Now young lady,” he said, quite pleasantly. “What do you know about this burglary? I’ll be very glad to listen.”

  “I don’t really know a thing,” admitted Penny. “But here’s a little clue which you may be able to interpret. I can’t.”

  Leading the policeman to the window, she started to raise the sash. The officer stopped her, performing the act himself, his hand protected by a handkerchief.

  “There is your clue,” said Penny.

  She indicated two freshly made gashes on the window ledge. Separated by possibly a foot of space, they clearly had been made by a hook or sharp instrument which had dug deeply into the wood.

  CHAPTER 7

  MARK OF THE IRON HOOK

  “What do you think of it?” Penny asked as the officer studied the marks in silence.

  “I’d say they were made by something which hooked over the ledge,” the policeman replied. “Possibly a ladder with curving irons.”

  Jerry gazed down over the window ledge into the dark alley.

  “No ordinary ladder could reach this high,” he commented. “Raising an extension would be quite a problem, too.”

  The Kohl maid timidly approached the window, gazing at the two deep gashes with interest. Asked by the policeman if she ever had noticed them before, she shook her head.

  “Oh, no, sir. They must have been made tonight. I know they weren’t there this afternoon when I dusted the window sills.”

  “Incredible as it seems, the thief came through this window,” decided the policeman. “How he did it is for the detectives at Central Station to figure out.”

  Explaining that the rooms must not be disturbed until Identification Bureau men had made complete fingerprint records, the officer locked Penny, Jerry and the maid outside the suite. He then went to a nearby apartment to telephone his report.

  “Maybe this is an ordinary burglary, but it doesn’t look that way to me,” remarked Jerry as he and Penny went down the stairway.

  “In any case, the story should be front page copy. Anything the Kohls do is news in Riverview.”

  “How high would you estimate the loss?”

  “Oh, I couldn’t guess, Jerry. Thousands of dollars.”

  Passing groups of tenants who cluttered the hallway excitedly discussing the burglary, they evaded questioners and reached the street.

  “Jerry,” said Penny suddenly, “I didn’t mention this to the policeman because he seemed to resent my opinions. But it occurred to me that I may have seen the man who robbed the Kohls—or at least had something to do with it.”

  “How could you have seen him, Penny? We were together when the Kohl maid yelled for help.”

  “Earlier than that. It was while I was at the theatre.”

  Half expecting that Jerry would laugh, Penny told how she had observed the man in gray note down the license number of the Kohl limousine.

  “It came to me like a flash! That fellow may have telephoned the Kohl apartment after seeing the car at the theatre. Making sure no one was at home, he then looted the place at his leisure.”

  “Wait a minute,” interrupted Jerry. “The Motor Vehicle Department closes at six o’clock. How could your man have obtained Kohl’s name and address from the license number?”

  “I never thought about the department being closed,” confessed Penny. “How you do love to shoot shrapnel into my little ideas!”

  “At least you have original theories, which is more than I do,” comforted Jerry. “Before we leave, shall we take a look at the alley?”

  Penny brightened instantly and accompanied the reporter to the rear of the building. The alley was deserted. Without a light they were unable to examine the ground beneath the Kohl’s apartment window.

  Suddenly, both straightened as they heard a sound behind them. The brilliant beam of a flashlight focused on their faces, blinding them.

  “Oh, it’s you again,” said a gruff voice.

  The beam was lowered, and behind it they saw the policeman.

  “You young cubs are a pest,” he said irritably.

  Ignoring them, he moved his light over the ground. There were no footprints or other marks visible beneath the window.

  “If a ladder had stood here it would show,” remarked Jerry. “The thief must have used some other means of getting into the building.”

  While the policeman was inspecting the ground, the janitor stepped from a rear basement door, joining the group.

  “Officer, I have some more information for you,” he volunteered.

  “What is it?”

  “I was talking with my wife. She says that about two hours ago she noticed a man walking through the alley. He carried a suitcase, and kept looking at the upstairs windows.”

  “No ladder?”

  “Only a suitcase.”

  “I’ll have the detectives talk with your wife,” the policeman promised. “They’ll be here any minute now.”

  Penny and Jerry lingered until the two men arrived, bringing a photographer with them. No new evidence being made available, it seemed a waste of time to remain longer.

  “Don’t bother to take me home,” Penny insisted. “Dash straight to the office and write your story. The other papers won’t have a word about the robbery until the police report is made.”

  “I don’t like to abandon you.”

  “Don’t be silly, Jerry. It’s only a few blocks farther.”

  Thus urged, the reporter bade Penny good-bye. As she hastened on alone, it began to rain and the air turned colder. To save her clothing, she ran the last block, reaching the porch quite breathless.

  The house was dark, the front door locked. Penny let herself in with a key, switched on the lights, and after getting a snack from the refrigerator, started upstairs.

  From her father’s room issued loud snores. However, Mrs. Weems’ door stood open, and as Penny glanced in she was surprised to see that the bed had not been disturbed.

  “Mrs. Weems must still be at the Hodges’,” she thought. “Perhaps I should go after her. She’ll have a long walk in this rain.”

  Penny went to a window and looked out. The downpour showed no sighs of slackening. With a sigh she found her raincoat and started for the garage.

  During her absence, Mr. Parker had towed Leaping Lena to a vacant lot adjoining the property. The maroon car awaited her beneath shelter, and she drove it through dark streets to the Hodges’ modest home.

  Lights glowed cheerily from the lower floor windows. In response to Penny’s knock, a bent old man, his hands gnarled by hard labor, opened the door.

  “Is it Penelope?” he asked, squinting at her through the rain. “Come in! Come in!”

  “Good evening, Mr. Hodges. Is Mrs. Weems still here?”

  “Yes, I am, Penny,” called the housekeeper. “Goodness, what time is it anyway?”

  “Nearly midnight.”

  Penny shook water from her coat and stepped into the spic and span living room. An unshaded electric light disclosed a rug too bright, wallpaper too glaring, furniture stiff and old fashioned. Yet one felt at once welcome, for the seamstress and her husband were simple, friendly people.

  “Have a chair, Penelope,” invited Mrs. Hodges. She was short like her husband, with graying hair and an untroubled countenance.

  “Thank you, but I can’t stay,” replied Penny. “I came to drive Mrs. Weems home.”

  “I had no idea it was so late,” the housekeeper said, getting to her feet. “Mrs. Hodges and I have been planning my traveling outfit.”

  “I’ll try to have the dresses for you within the next two weeks,” promised the seamstress. “Your good fortune makes me very happy, Maud. Isn’t the news of her inheritance wonderful, Penelope?”

  “Oh, yes, yes, of course,” stammered Penny. “Only I hope Mrs. Weems isn’t leaving us within two weeks. What’s this about a traveling outfit?”

  “I’ve always wanted fine clothing,” said Mrs. Weems dreamily. “Mrs. Hodges is making me a suit, thr
ee silk dresses, a tissue velvet evening gown—”

  “An evening gown!” Penny gasped. “Where will you wear it?”

  “I’ll find places.”

  “Maybe she aims to catch a husband while she’s galavantin’ around out there in Californy,” contributed Mr. Hodges with a sly wink.

  “The very idea!” laughed Mrs. Weems, yet with no displeasure.

  Penny sagged into the nearest rocking chair. The conversation was paced too fast for her.

  “Evening gowns—husbands—California,” she murmured weakly. “Wait until Dad hears about this.”

  “Mr. Hodges was only joking,” declared Mrs. Weems, reaching for her hat. “I wouldn’t marry the best man on earth. But I definitely am going west this summer.”

  “I envy you, Maud,” said the seamstress, her eyes shining. “Pa and I want to go out there and buy a little orange grove someday. But with taxes what they are, we can’t seem to save a penny.”

  Mrs. Weems squeezed her friend’s hand.

  “I wish I could take you along, Jenny,” she said. “All these years you’ve sewed your poor fingers almost to the bone. You deserve an easier life.”

  “Oh, Pa and I don’t complain,” the seamstress answered brightly. “And things are going to look up.”

  “Sure they are,” agreed Mr. Hodges. “I’ll get a job any day now.”

  Penny, who was watching the seamstress’ face was amazed to see it suddenly transformed. Losing her usual calm, Mrs. Hodges exclaimed:

  “Pa! It just this minute came to me! Maud getting her inheritance is another psychic sign!”

  Penny rocked violently and even Mrs. Weems looked startled.

  “I don’t know what you mean, Jenny,” she said.

  “We said we wouldn’t tell anybody, Ma,” protested Mr. Hodges mildly.

  “Mrs. Weems is my best friend, and Penelope won’t tell. Will you, Penelope?”

  “Not what I don’t know,” replied Penny in bewilderment. “How can Mrs. Weems’ inheritance have anything to do with a psychic sign?”

  “You may as well tell ’em,” grinned Mr. Hodges,“If you keep the news much longer you’ll bust.”

  “The strangest thing happened three nights ago,”Mrs. Hodges began, her voice quivering with excitement. “But wait! First I’ll show you the letter!”