The Penny Parker Megapack: 15 Complete Novels

by Mildred Benson

  “I suppose I imagined all that too,” she said, waving her hand toward the disfiguring cement hump. “Old Peter never had any hidden gold, he never had a SECRET PACT with tattooed sailors, and he never tried to burn your newspaper plant!”

  “I’ll admit you did a nice piece of detective work when you uncovered that story,” her father acknowledged. “Likewise, you brought the Star one of its best scoops by outwitting slippery Al Gepper and entangling him in his own Silken Ladder.”

  “Don’t forget the Tale of the Witch Doll either,”Penny reminded him. “You laughed at me then, just as you’re doing now.”

  “I’m not laughing,” denied the editor. “I merely say that no light was burning in the tower window, and I very much doubt that the clock struck more than twelve times.”

  “Tomorrow I shall go to the tower and talk with the caretaker, Seth McGuire. I’ll prove to you that I was right!”

  “If you do, I’ll treat to a dish of ice cream decorated with nuts.”

  “Make it five gallons of gasoline and I’ll be really interested,” she countered.

  Due to an unusual set of circumstances, Penny had fallen heir to two automobiles, one a second-hand contraption whose battered sides bore the signature of nearly every young person in Riverview. The other, a handsome maroon sedan, had been the gift of her father, presented in gratitude because of her excellent reporting of a case known to many as Behind the Green Door. Always hard pressed for funds, she found it all but impossible to keep two automobiles in operation, and her financial difficulties were a constant source of amusement to everyone but herself.

  Soon, an electric sign proclaiming “Toni’s” in huge block letters loomed up. Penny swung into the parking area, tooting the horn for service. Immediately a white-coated waiter brought out a menu.

  “Coffee and two hamburgers,” Penny ordered with a flourish. “Everything on one, and everything but, on the other.”

  “No onions for the little lady?” the waiter grinned. “Okay. I’ll have ’em right out.”

  While waiting, Penny noticed that another car, a gray sedan, had drawn up close to the building. Although the two men who occupied the front seat had ordered food, they were not eating it. Instead they conversed in low tones as they appeared to watch someone inside the cafe.

  “Dad, notice those two men,” she whispered, touching his arm.

  “What about them?” he asked, but before she could reply, the waiter came with a tray of sandwiches which he hooked over the car door.

  “Not bad,” Mr. Parker praised as he bit into a giant-size hamburger. “First decent cup of coffee I’ve had in a week too.”

  “Dad, watch!” Penny reminded him.

  The restaurant door had opened, and a man of early middle age came outside. Immediately the couple in the gray sedan stiffened to alert attention. As the man passed their car they lowered their heads, but the instant he had gone on, they turned to peer after him.

  The man who was being observed so closely seemed unaware of the scrutiny. Crossing the parking lot, he chose a trail which led into a dense grove of trees.

  “Now’s our chance!” cried one of the men in the gray sedan. “Come on, we’ll get him!” Both alighted and likewise disappeared into the woods.

  “Dad, did you hear what they said?” asked Penny.

  “I did,” he answered grimly. “Tough looking customers too.”

  “I’m afraid they mean to rob that first man. Isn’t there anything we can do?”

  Mr. Parker barely hesitated. “I may make a chump of myself,” he said, “but here goes! I’ll tag along and try to be on hand if anything happens.”

  “Dad, don’t do it!” Penny pleaded, suddenly frightened lest her father face danger. “You might get hurt!”

  Mr. Parker paid no heed. Swinging open the car door, he strode across the parking lot, and entered the dark woods.

  CHAPTER 2

  NIGHT RIDERS

  Not to be left behind, Penny quickly followed her father, overtaking him before he had gone very far into the forest.

  “Penny, you shouldn’t have come,” he said sternly. “There may be trouble, and I’ll not have you taking unnecessary risks.”

  “I don’t want you to do it either,” she insisted. “Which way did the men go?”

  “That’s what I wonder,” Mr. Parker responded, listening intently. “Hear anything?”

  “Not a sound.”

  “Queer that all three of them could disappear so quickly,” the editor muttered. “I’m sure there’s been no attack. Listen! What was that?”

  “It sounded like a car being started!” Penny exclaimed.

  Hastening to the edge of the woods, she gazed toward the parking lot. The Parker car stood where it had been abandoned, but the gray sedan was missing. A moving tail light could be seen far down the road.

  “There go our friends,” Mr. Parker commented rather irritably. “Their sudden departure probably saved me from making a chump of myself.”

  “How could we tell they didn’t mean to rob that other man?” Penny asked in an injured tone. “You thought yourself that they intended to harm him.”

  “Oh, I’m not blaming you,” the editor answered, starting toward the parking lot. “I’m annoyed at myself. This is a graphic example of what we were talking about awhile ago—imagination!”

  Decidedly crestfallen, Penny followed her father to the car. They finished their hamburgers, which had grown cold, and after the tray was removed, started home.

  “I could do with a little sleep,” Mr. Parker yawned. “After a hard day at the office, your brand of night life is a bit too strenuous for me.”

  Selecting a short-cut route to Riverview, Penny paid strict attention to the road, for the narrow pavement had been patched in many places. On either side of the highway stretched truck farms with row upon row of neatly staked tomatoes and other crops.

  Rounding a bend, Penny was startled to see tongues of flame brightening the horizon. A large wooden barn, situated in plain view, on a slight knoll, had caught fire and was burning rapidly. As she slammed on the brake, Mr. Parker aroused from light slumber.

  “Now what?” he mumbled drowsily.

  “Dad, unless I’m imagining things again, that barn is on fire!”

  “Let ’er burn,” he mumbled, and then fully aroused, swung open the car door.

  There were no fire fighters on the scene, in fact the only person visible was a woman in dark flannel night robe, who stood silhouetted in the red glare. As Penny and Mr. Parker reached her side, she stared at them almost stupidly.

  “We’ll lose everything,” she said tonelessly. “Our entire crop of melons is inside the barn, packed for shipment. And my husband’s new truck!”

  “Have you called a fire company?” the editor asked.

  “I’ve called, but it won’t do any good,” she answered. “The barn will be gone before they can get here.”

  With a high wind whipping the flames, Penny and her father knew that the woman spoke the truth. Already the fire had such a start that even had water been available, the barn could not have been saved.

  “Maybe I can get out the truck for you!” Mr. Parker offered.

  As he swung open the barn doors, a wave of heat rushed into his face. Coughing and choking, he forced his way into the smoke filled interior, unaware that Penny was at his side. Seeing her a moment later, he tried to send her back.

  “You can’t get the truck out without me to help push,” she replied, refusing to retreat. “Come on, we can do it!”

  The shiny red truck was a fairly light one and stood on an inclined cement floor which sloped toward the exit. Nevertheless, although Penny and her father exerted every iota of their combined strength, they could not start it moving.

  “Maybe the brake is on!” Mr. Parker gasped, running around to the cab. “Yes, it is!”

  Pushing once more, they were able to start the truck rolling. Once in motion its own momentum carried it down the runway into
the open, a safe distance from the flames.

  “How about the crated melons?” Penny asked, breathing hard from the strenuous exertion.

  “Not a chance to save them,” Mr. Parker answered. “We were lucky to get out the truck.”

  Driven back by the heat, Penny and her father went to stand beside the woman in dark flannel. Thanking them for their efforts in her behalf, she added that her name was Mrs. Preston and that her husband was absent.

  “John went to Riverview and hasn’t come back yet,” she said brokenly. “This is going to be a great shock to him. All our work gone up in smoke!”

  “Didn’t you have the barn insured?” the editor questioned her.

  “John has a small policy,” Mrs. Preston replied. “It covers the barn, but not the melons stored inside. Those men did it on purpose, too! I saw one of ’em riding away.”

  “What’s that?” Mr. Parker demanded, wondering if he had understood the woman correctly. “You don’t mean the fire deliberately was set?”

  “Yes, it was,” the woman affirmed angrily. “I was sound asleep, and then I heard a horse galloping into the yard. I ran to the window and saw the rider throw a lighted torch into the old hay loft. As soon as he saw it blaze up, he rode off.”

  “Was the man anyone you knew?” Mr. Parker asked, amazed by the disclosure. “Were you able to see his face?”

  “Hardly,” Mrs. Preston returned with a short laugh. “He wore a black hood. It covered his head and shoulders.”

  “A black hood!” Penny exclaimed. “Why, Dad, that sounds like night riders!”

  “Mrs. Preston, do you know of any reason why you and your husband might be made the target of such cowardly action?” the newspaper man inquired.

  “It must have been done because John wouldn’t join up with them.”

  “Join some organization, you mean?”

  “Yes, they kept warning him something like this would happen, but John wouldn’t have anything to do with ’em.”

  “I don’t blame your husband,” said the editor, seeking to gather more information. “Tell me, what is the name of this disreputable organization? What is its purpose, and the names of the men who run it?”

  “I don’t know any more about it than what I’ve told you,” Mrs. Preston replied, suddenly becoming close-lipped. “John never said much about it to me.”

  “Are you afraid to tell what you know?” Mr. Parker asked abruptly.

  “It doesn’t pay to do too much talking. You act real friendly and you did me a good turn saving my truck—but I don’t even know your name.”

  “Anthony Parker, owner of the Riverview Star.”

  The information was anything but reassuring to the woman.

  “You’re not aiming to write up anything I’ve told you for the paper?” she asked anxiously.

  “Not unless I believe that by doing so I can expose these night riders who have destroyed your barn.”

  “Please don’t print anything in the paper,” Mrs. Preston pleaded. “It will only do harm. Those men will turn on John harder than ever.”

  Before Mr. Parker could reply, the roof of the storage barn collapsed, sending up a shower of sparks and burning brands. By this time the red glare in the sky had attracted the attention of neighbors, and several men came running into the yard. Realizing that he could not hope to gain additional information from the woman, Mr. Parker began to examine the ground in the vicinity of the barn.

  “Looking for hoof tracks?” Penny asked, falling into step beside him.

  “I thought we might find some, providing the woman told a straight story.”

  “Dad, did you ever hear of an organization such as Mrs. Preston mentioned?” Penny inquired, her gaze on the ground. “I mean around Riverview, of course.”

  Mr. Parker shook his head. “I never did, Penny. But if what she says is true, the Star will launch an investigation. We’ll have no night riders in this community, not if it’s in my power to blast them out!”

  “Here’s your first clue, Dad!”

  Excitedly, Penny pointed to a series of hoof marks plainly visible in the soft earth. The tracks led toward the main road.

  “Apparently Mrs. Preston told the truth about the barn being fired by a man on horseback,” Mr. Parker declared as he followed the trail leading out of the yard. “These prints haven’t been made very long.”

  “Dad, you look like Sherlock Holmes scooting along with his nose to the ground!” Penny giggled. “You should have a magnifying glass to make the picture perfect.”

  “Never mind the comedy,” her father retorted gruffly. “This may mean a big story for the Star, not to mention a worthwhile service to the community.”

  “Oh, I’m heartily in favor of your welfare work,”Penny chuckled. “In fact, I think it would be wonderfully exciting to capture a night rider. Is that what you have in mind?”

  “We may as well follow this trail as far as we can. Apparently, the fellow rode his horse just off the main highway, heading toward Riverview.”

  “Be sure you don’t follow the trail backwards,”Penny teased. “That would absolutely ruin your reputation as a detective.”

  “Jump in the car and drive while I stand on the running board,” Mr. Parker ordered, ignoring his daughter’s attempt at wit. “Keep close to the edge of the pavement and go slowly.”

  Obeying instructions, Penny drove the car at an even speed. Due to a recent rain which had made the ground very soft, it was possible to follow the trail of hoof prints without difficulty.

  “We turn left here,” Mr. Parker called as they came to a dirt road. “Speed up a bit or the tires may stick. And watch sharp for soft places.”

  “Aye, aye, captain,” Penny laughed, thoroughly enjoying the adventure.

  Soon the car came to the entrance of a narrow, muddy lane, and there Mr. Parker called a halt.

  “We’ve come to the end of the trail,” he announced.

  “Have the tracks ended?” Penny asked in disappointment as she applied brakes.

  “Quite the contrary. They turn into this lane.”

  Both Mr. Parker and his daughter gazed thoughtfully toward a small cabin which could be seen far back among the trees. Despite the late hour, a light still glowed in one of the windows.

  “The man who set the fire must live there!” Penny exclaimed. “What’s our next move, Dad?”

  As she spoke, the roar of a fast traveling automobile was heard far up the road, approaching from the direction whence they had just come.

  “Pull over,” Mr. Parker instructed. “And flash the tail light. We don’t want to risk being struck.”

  Barely did Penny have time to obey before the head-beams of the oncoming car illuminated the roadway. But as it approached, the automobile suddenly slackened speed, finally skidding to a standstill beside the Parker sedan.

  “That you, Clem Davis?” boomed a loud voice. “Stand where you are, and don’t make any false moves!”

  CHAPTER 3

  A BLACK HOOD

  “Good Evening, Sheriff,” Mr. Parker said evenly as he recognized the heavy-set man who stepped from a county automobile. “I’m afraid you’ve mistaken me for someone else this time.”

  Sheriff Daniels put away his revolver and moved into the beam of light.

  “Sorry,” he apologized. “Thought you might be Clem Davis, and I wasn’t taking any chances. You’re Parker of the Riverview Star?”

  “That’s right,” agreed the editor, “Looking for Clem Davis?”

  “I’m here to question him. I’m investigating a fire which was set at the Preston place.”

  “You’re a fast worker, Sheriff,” Mr. Parker remarked. “My daughter and I just left the Preston farm, and we didn’t see you there. What put you on Davis’ trail?”

  “Our officer received an anonymous telephone call from a woman. She reported the fire and said that I’d find my man here.”

  “Could it have been Mrs. Preston who notified you?” Mr. Parker inquired thoughtfull
y.

  “It wasn’t Mrs. Preston,” answered the sheriff. “I traced the call to the Riverview exchange. Thought it must be the trick of a crank until our office got a report that a fire actually had been set at the Preston farm. By the way, what are you doing around here, Parker?”

  “Oh, just prowling,” the editor replied, and explained briefly how he and Penny had chanced to be at the scene of the fire.

  “If you followed a horseman to this lane there may be something to that anonymous telephone call,” the sheriff declared. “I’ll look around, and then have a talk with Davis.”

  “Mind if we accompany you?” inquired Mr. Parker.

  “Come along,” the sheriff invited.

  Penny was hard pressed to keep step with the two men as they strode down the muddy lane. A light glowed in the window of the cabin, and a woman could be seen sitting at a table. The sheriff, however, circled the house. Following the trail of hoof marks he went directly to the stable, quietly opening the double doors.

  Once inside, Sheriff Daniels switched on a flashlight. The bright beam revealed six stalls, all empty save one, in which stood a handsome black mare who tugged restlessly at her tether. Her body was covered with sweat, and she shivered.

  “This horse has been ridden hard,” the sheriff observed, reaching to throw a blanket over her.

  “Here’s something interesting,” commented Mr. Parker. Stooping, he picked up a dark piece of cloth lying in plain view on the cement floor. It had been sewed in the shape of a headgear, with eye holes cut in the front side.

  “A black hood!” Penny shouted in awe.

  Sheriff Daniels took the cloth from the editor, examining it closely but saying very little.

  “Ever hear of any night riders in this community?”Mr. Parker asked after a moment, his tone casual.

  “Never did,” the sheriff replied emphatically. “And I sure hope such a story doesn’t get started.”

  Mr. Parker fingered the black mask. “All the same, Sheriff, you can’t just laugh off a thing like this. Even if the November elections aren’t far away—”