The Penny Parker Megapack: 15 Complete Novels

by Mildred Benson

  Leaving the newspaper office, Penny went directly home. She longed to stop at the Sidell home, but she had promised her father to say nothing about the planned raid until it was an accomplished fact. Feeling the need of work to occupy her time, she washed the maroon car and waxed the fading paint of Leaping Lena.

  At six o’clock her father came home for dinner.

  “Any news?” Penny asked, running to meet him.

  “Everything’s set,” he answered. “DeWitt laid your information before the police. Tonight three detectives will attend the meeting at the Temple. If anything out of the way happens, the raid will be staged.”

  Penny was so tense with expectation that she was unable to do justice to the delicious dinner which Mrs. Weems had prepared. Her father, too, seemed unusually restless. After dinner he made a pretense of reading the paper, but actually his eyes did not see the print.

  The hands of the clock scarcely appeared to move, so slowly did time pass. Eight o’clock came, then nine. Suddenly the telephone rang.

  Penny was away in an instant to answer it. From the next room she called to her father:

  “It’s for you, Dad! DeWitt, I think.”

  “I told him to telephone me as soon as the raid was staged.” Mr. Parker arose and went quickly to take the receiver. Penny hovered at his elbow.

  “Hello! DeWitt?” the publisher asked, and after a slight pause: “Oh, I see. No, I don’t think Penny was mistaken. It’s more likely there was a tip-off.”

  He hung up the receiver and turned toward Penny who anticipated the news.

  “The raid was a failure?”

  “Yes, Penny. Detectives spent two hours at the meeting. Nothing happened. It was impossible to make arrests.”

  “They must have been recognized as detectives.”

  “Undoubtedly.”

  “Others will be assigned to the case?”

  “I doubt it, Penny. DeWitt reports that the police have become convinced that the spiritualists who use the Temple are not operating for profit.”

  “Louise and I know better because she was approached.”Penny anxiously regarded her father. “Dad, even if the police do give up, we won’t, will we?”

  “No, we’re in this fight and we’ll stay in it,” he answered grimly. “We’ll put some new teeth in our trap. And the next time it’s sprung, I warrant you we’ll catch a crook.”

  CHAPTER 14

  WET PAINT

  Promptly at two o’clock the following afternoon, Penny and Mrs. Weems presented themselves at the Hodges’ cottage for the appointed séance. Already Mr. Gepper awaited them in the darkened apartment on the second floor.

  Penny’s glance about the room found everything in the same order as upon the previous visit, save that an easel with a large black sheet of artist’s paper stood beside the cabinet.

  She moved as if to examine it. Al Gepper intercepted her by saying:

  “Sit here, if you please. Beside Mrs. Weems. I’ll call the Hodges and we’ll start at once.”

  The medium went to the door and shouted down the stairway. Penny noticed that he remained where he could watch her every move in a mirror which hung on the wall. She shrewdly guessed that he was afraid she might attempt to examine either the cabinet or the easel.

  Mr. and Mrs. Hodges came in response to the call, taking chairs about the circular table. The gaze which they fastened upon Al Gepper was almost worshipful.

  “Now today I hope to materialize the Spirit of Cousin David,” announced the medium. “The task will be difficult, as you must realize. After the séance begins I am compelled to request absolute quiet. The slightest movement may frighten away the Spirits.”

  “Why are spirits so timid?” asked Penny.

  “Because their beings are so sensitive that they instantly feel an unfriendly presence,” the man responded glibly. “Please hold hands, and use every precaution that contact is not broken.”

  Mrs. Weems took one of Penny’s hands and Mr. Hodges the other. Mrs. Hodges sat next to her husband.

  After lowering black curtains over the window blinds to further darken the room, the medium returned to his chair. Those at the table were unable to distinguish his form, and for a time there was no sound save the scratching music of a phonograph record.

  Presently the medium exhorted the Spirit of Cousin David to appear. For at least ten minutes there was no indication that communication was to be established. Then a cowbell tinkled, causing Mrs. Weems to shake and tremble.

  “Are you there, David?” called the medium.

  The bell jingled violently.

  “We are ready, David,” intoned the medium. “Have you a message for us?”

  To Penny’s amazement, a pair of shapely white hands slowly materialized, apparently pulling aside the curtain of the cabinet above the medium’s head. In the darkness they glowed with a weird phosphorescent light.

  Next appeared a white-rimmed slate, upon which luminous words were written: “I am the Spirit of Cousin David. Is Maud here?”

  “Yes, yes,” responded Mrs. Weems, quivering with excitement. “Have you a message for me?”

  Again the hand wrote: “My happiness in this world beyond is disturbed. Maud, do not squander the money which I gave to you.”

  “Squander it?” the housekeeper said aloud. “Why, I’ve scarcely spent a penny!”

  “A trip to California is ill-advised,” wrote the hand. “Invest your money in good eight per cent securities. There are many excellent companies—the Brantwell Corporation, White and Edwards, the Bierkamp Company.”

  The slate vanished and once more the jingling of the cowbell denoted that the spirit was moving away.

  The medium spoke. “Contact has been broken. Shall we try to reach Cousin David again?”

  “Oh, please!” pleaded Mrs. Weems. “I don’t know what to do now. I’ve planned on the western trip and I can’t understand why Cousin David should advise me to give it up.”

  “I wouldn’t go agin’ the Spirits if I was you,” advised Mr. Hodges. “You better change your plans, Maud.”

  “But how can I be certain that the message came from Cousin David?” the housekeeper quavered. “Oh, dear, I am so upset! If only I could be certain.”

  “Madam, I hope you do not distrust me,” said Al Gepper reprovingly.

  “Oh, no, it’s not that. I’m just upset.”

  “Perhaps, if you actually saw your cousin it would set your mind at rest.”

  “Is it possible to see him?”

  “I cannot promise, but we will try. Hold hands again please, and everyone concentrate.”

  There followed an interval during which the medium pleaded with the Spirit of Cousin David to return and show himself. Suddenly the group was startled to see a luminous banjo move high through the air, unsupported by any hand. It began to play “Down upon the Swanee River.”

  Midway through the selection, the music broke off and the banjo disappeared. An instant later Mrs. Hodges uttered a choked cry.

  “The easel! Look at it, Maud!”

  All eyes turned toward the painter’s canvas. As the medium focused a flashlight upon it, the face of an elderly man slowly materialized on the blank surface, the picture appearing in red, blue and finally black oil paint.

  “It is Cousin David!” whispered Mrs. Weems, gripping Penny’s hand so tightly that it hurt. “He looks exactly as he did when last I saw him!”

  The medium extinguished his light and again the room was dark. Mrs. Weems’ chair creaked as she stirred restlessly. Mr. Hodges’ heavy breathing could be plainly heard. There was no other sound. Everyone waited in tense expectancy, sensing that the climax of the séance was at hand.

  Suddenly, behind Al Gepper’s chair a spot of ethereal light appeared. As Penny watched, it grew in size until the figure had assumed the proportions of a man. Then, to her further amazement, it slowly rose toward the ceiling, hovering above Mrs. Weems’ chair.

  Throughout the séance Penny had remained firm in her
conviction that the medium had resorted to trickery to produce his startling effects. Although she could not be sure, she thought that several times he had slipped from his chair to enter the conveniently placed cabinet. She also believed that the only way he could have materialized the ghost was by donning luminous robes.

  “I’ll end his little game once and for all,” she thought.

  Deliberately she waited until the ghostly figure floated close to her own chair. Then with a sudden upward spring, she snatched at it.

  Greatly to her chagrin, her hand encountered nothing solid. With the speed of lightning, the figure streaked toward the cabinet behind Al Gepper’s chair and was seen no more.

  Arising, the medium switched on the room lights. His face was white with anger.

  “I warned you to make no move,” he said harshly to Penny. “You deliberately disobeyed me.”

  “Oh, Penny, why did you do it?” wailed Mrs. Weems. “I was so eager to get another message from Cousin David.”

  “His Spirit has been frightened away,” announced the medium. “It will be impossible ever to recall him. For that matter, I shall never again conduct a séance with this young person present. She is a disturbing element.”

  “Oh, Penny, you’ve ruined everything,” said Mrs. Weems accusingly. “Why do you act so outrageously?”

  Penny started to speak and then changed her mind. Mrs. Weems, the seamstress and her husband, all were gazing at her with deep reproach. She realized that there was nothing she could say which would make them understand.

  She arose and walked to the easel. The painting of Cousin David remained clearly visible. She touched it and then glanced at her finger which bore a streak of red.

  The paint was still wet.

  Penny stared at her finger a moment. Lifting her eyes she met the triumphant gaze of Al Gepper.

  “Not even a skillful artist could have painted a picture so quickly,” he said with a smirk. “Only a spirit would have the ability. You are dumbfounded, my little one?”

  “No, just plain dumb,” answered Penny. “I salute you, Mr. Gepper.”

  Without waiting for Mrs. Weems, she turned and went from the house.

  “Now how did he do it?” she muttered. “I saw everything and yet I am more in the dark than ever. But I am sure of one thing. Unless I work fast, Al Gepper is almost certain to obtain Mrs. Weems’ inheritance.”

  CHAPTER 15

  HIDDEN MONEY

  One of Penny’s first acts upon arriving home was to scan the telephone directory under the heading, Investment Firms. The three companies mentioned during the séance, White and Edwards, Brantwell, and Bierkamp, were unlisted.

  “Evidently there are no such firms in Riverview,” she reflected. “But why was Mrs. Weems advised to invest her money with one of them? It looks very suspicious to me!”

  Not until after five o’clock did Mrs. Weems return from the Hodges’. She seemed rather upset, and when Penny tried to bring up the subject of the séance, said distantly:

  “Please, Penny, I prefer not to discuss it. Your conduct was disgraceful.”

  “I apologize for grabbing at the ghost, Mrs. Weems. I only did it to prove that Al Gepper is a fraud.”

  “Your motives were quite apparent. One could not blame Mr. Gepper for being angry.”

  “Oh, Mrs. Weems,” said Penny in desperation. “How can you be taken in by his smooth line? His one purpose is to obtain your money.”

  “You are very unjust,” the housekeeper responded. “Today I tried to pay Mr. Gepper for the séance and he would not accept one penny.”

  “That’s because he is playing for higher stakes.”

  “It’s no use discussing the matter with you,” Mrs. Weems shrugged. “You are prejudiced and will give the man credit for nothing.”

  “I give him credit for being very clever. Mrs. Weems, please promise that you’ll not allow him to invest your money for you.”

  “I have no intention of doing so, Penny. It does seem to me that I should consider Cousin David’s wishes in the matter. Very likely I shall abandon my plans for the western trip.”

  “And stay here with us?” Penny cried eagerly.

  “No, I am thinking of going to a larger city and taking an apartment. With my money invested in eight per cent securities, I should have a comfortable little income.”

  “Mrs. Weems, I’ve heard Dad say over and over that sound securities will not pay such a high rate of interest. Promise you won’t invest your money until you’ve talked with him.”

  “You’re always asking me to promise something or other,” the housekeeper sighed. “This time I shall use my own judgment.”

  Realizing that further argument was only a waste of breath, Penny wandered outside to await her father. When he came, they sat together on the front porch steps, discussing the situation.

  “I’ll drop a word of advice to Mrs. Weems at the first opportunity,” offered Mr. Parker. “If she is in the mood you describe, it would not be wise to bring up the subject tonight. She merely would resent my interference.”

  “What worries me is that I am afraid she may have told Al Gepper where the money is kept.”

  “Tomorrow I’ll urge her again to deposit it in a bank. We’ll do our best to protect her from these sharpers.”

  The publisher had been very much interested in Penny’s account of the séance. However, he was unable to explain how the various tricks had been accomplished.

  “Dad,” Penny said thoughtfully, “you don’t suppose there’s any chance it wasn’t trickery?”

  “Certainly not! I hope you’re not falling under this fellow’s spell?”

  “No, but it gave me a real shock when I saw Cousin David’s face materialize on the canvas. It was the absolute image of him—or rather of a picture Mrs. Weems once showed me.”

  A startled expression came over Penny’s face. Without explanation, she sprang to her feet and ran to the kitchen.

  “Mrs. Weems,” she cried, “did you ever get it back? Your picture!”

  “What picture, Penny?” The housekeeper scarcely glanced up as she vigorously scrubbed carrots.

  “I mean the one of Cousin David. You allowed a photographer to take it for enlargement.”

  “It hasn’t been returned,” Mrs. Weems admitted. “I can’t imagine why the work takes so long.”

  “I think I can,” announced Penny. “But you never would believe me if I told you, so I won’t.”

  Racing to the porch, she revealed to her father what she thought had occurred. It was her theory that the agent who had called at the Parker home days earlier had in actuality been one of Al Gepper’s assistants.

  “Don’t you see, Dad!” she cried. “The man obtained a picture of Cousin David, and probably turned it over to the medium.” Her face fell slightly. “Of course, that still doesn’t explain how the painting slowly materialized.”

  “Nor does it explain the ghost or the banjo. Penny, couldn’t Gepper have painted the picture himself in the darkness?”

  “There wasn’t time, Dad. Besides, he held a flashlight on the painting. No human hand touched it.”

  “You say, too, that the banjo was high overhead when it played?”

  “That’s right, Dad. Gepper couldn’t have reached the strings. The instrument floated free in the air.”

  “Sounds fantastic.”

  “Believe me, it was, Dad. It’s no wonder Gepper is gaining such influence over Mrs. Weems. He’s as slick as a greased fox!”

  “I’ll have Jerry go to the house and try to learn how the fellow operates,” declared Mr. Parker. “We can’t break the story until we have absolute evidence that Gepper has obtained money under false pretenses.”

  The next day Penny remained close at home. Mrs. Weems still treated her somewhat distantly, leaving the house immediately after lunch and declining to explain where she was going. Penny was quite certain that her destination was the Hodges’ cottage.

  “Guess I’ll run over and see
Louise,” she thought restlessly. “Nothing to do here.”

  Before she could leave the house, the doorbell rang. A man of perhaps thirty, well dressed, with a leather briefcase tucked under his arm, stood on the front porch. He bowed politely to Penny.

  “This is where Mrs. Weems resides, I believe?”

  “Yes, but she isn’t here now.”

  “When will she be home?”

  “I can’t say,” replied Penny. “Are you an agent?”

  The man’s appearance displeased her although she could not have said exactly why. His smile was too ingratiating, his eyes calculating and hard.

  “My name is Bierkamp,” he explained. “I represent the Harold G. Bierkamp Investment Company.”

  Penny stiffened. She glared at the agent. “You mean you represent the Al Gepper Spookus Company,” she said in a cutting voice. “Well, Mrs. Weems doesn’t want any of your wonderful eight per cent stocks! She’ll not see you, so don’t come here again!”

  “And who are you to speak for her?” the man retorted.

  “If you come here again, I’ll call the police,” Penny threatened. “Now get out!”

  Without another word, the man retreated down the street. Penny watched until he turned a corner and was lost to view. She was a trifle worried as to what she had done.

  “If Mrs. Weems learns about this she’ll never forgive me,” she thought uneasily. “But he was a crook sent by Al Gepper. I know it.”

  Wandering upstairs, she entered the bathroom, intending to wash before going to Louise’s home. On the tiled floor lay a velvet ribbon with a key attached. At once, Penny realized that Mrs. Weems had left it there inadvertently.

  “It’s the key to her desk,” she reflected, picking it up. “And she insists that her money is kept in a safe place! I have a notion to play a joke on her.”

  The longer Penny considered the idea, the more it pleased her. Jubilantly, she set forth for the Sidell home. Taking Louise into her confidence, she visited a novelty shop and purchased a supply of fake money.

  Returning home, she then unlocked the drawer of Mrs. Weems’ desk and, removing the six thousand dollars, replaced it with neat stacks of imitation bills. Louise watched her with misgiving.