The Penny Parker Megapack: 15 Complete Novels

by Mildred Benson

  The detective removed it from a vest pocket, offering the signature for inspection. One glance satisfied Penny that the cheque had been signed by the same man who had been sending her father “crank” messages.

  “At home I have a telegram which I’m sure bears this identical signature!” she revealed. “I’ve never seen the man though—except as he ran through the store.”

  The store detective questioned Penny at length about her knowledge of Bowman. Realizing that a description of the man might be of great value to her, he showed her a small card which bore a mounted photograph.

  “This is Ben Bowman,” he assured her. “He’s an expert forger, and uses any number of names. Think you can remember the face?”

  “I’ll try to,” Penny replied. “He doesn’t seem to have any distinguishing features though.”

  “His angular jaw is rather noticeable,” the detective pointed out. “Brown eyes are set fairly close together. He’s about six feet two and dresses well.”

  Penny was highly elated to have gained a description of Bowman, and especially pleased that the man had been traced to Claymore. The fact that he was a known forger, encouraged her to hope that police soon would apprehend him.

  “That one hundred dollars Dad offered for Bowman’s capture is as good as mine already,” she boasted gleefully to Louise as they left the store. “All I need to do is wait.”

  “No doubt you’ll collect,” Louise admitted grudgingly. “I never met anyone with your brand of luck.”

  “I feel especially lucky today too,” Penny said with a gay laugh. “Tell you what! Let’s make another tour of the vegetable markets.”

  “It will make us late in getting home. The time is sure to be wasted too.”

  “Oh, come along,” Penny urged, seizing her by the arm. “I promise to have you in Riverview no later than three o’clock.”

  In driving into Claymore that morning the girls had noticed a large outdoor market near the outskirts of the city. Returning to it, Penny parked the car, and with her chum wandered about the sales area.

  “A nice fat chicken?” a farm woman asked persuasively, holding up an uninviting specimen. “Fresh eggs?”

  “We’re looking for melons,” Penny replied.

  “Mr. Breldway has some nice cantaloupes,” the woman returned. “He got a truck load of ’em in from Riverview just the other day.”

  Locating Mr. Breldway’s place of business, Louise and Penny began to inspect the melons offered for sale. Almost at once they came upon a basket of cantaloupes which bore a blurred stamp.

  “Louise, these look like the Davis crop!” Penny cried excitedly. “Wouldn’t you say someone deliberately had blocked out the old marking?”

  “It does appear that way.”

  “Maybe we can find just one melon with the original stamp!”

  Penny dug into the basket with both hands, tossing up cantaloupes for Louise to place on the ground. Their activities immediately drew the attention and displeasure of Mr. Breldway.

  “If you’re looking for a good melon let me help you,” he said, hurrying toward them.

  Penny straightened, holding up a cantaloupe for him to see.

  “I don’t need any help,” she said distinctly. “I’ve found the melon I want. It bears the Davis stamp.”

  CHAPTER 16

  A FAMILIAR NAME

  “The melon you have selected is a very good one,” the market man declared, not understanding the significance of Penny’s remark. “Shall I put it in a sack for you?”

  “I’m not interested in the melon—only in the stamp,” Penny replied. “Do you realize that you may be liable to arrest?”

  “What d’you mean, liable to arrest?” the man demanded. “I’m an honest dealer and I have a license.”

  “Look at these melons.” Penny held up one which bore the blurred stamp. “The trade name has been altered.”

  The dealer took the cantaloupe from her, examining it briefly. She then offered him the single melon bearing the Davis stamp.

  “Well, what about it?” he asked.

  “Just this. A few nights ago a truck load of melons similar to these, was stolen from the Davis farm near Riverview. The thief was trailed right to this city.”

  “You’re trying to say that I sell stolen melons!”

  “I’m not making any direct accusations,” Penny replied evenly. “No doubt you can explain where you got the melons.”

  “Certainly I can. I bought a truck load of them from a farmer named John Toby. The melons were good, the price cheap, and I didn’t pay any attention to the stamp.”

  “Is Mr. Toby a regular dealer?”

  “I buy from him now and then, when his prices are right. I never bothered to ask any questions.”

  “Where does the man live?”

  “I can’t tell you that. He’s a large, heavy-set fellow with brown hair and eyes.”

  The description was too meagre to be of value to Penny.

  “Does Mr. Toby drive a red truck?” she inquired thoughtfully.

  “He did this last time.”

  “It was a red truck which was stolen from the Davis farm,” Penny said quietly. “I’m sure these melons came from there too.”

  “I paid good money for them,” the dealer retorted in a defiant tone. “So far as I knew, they belonged to this fellow Toby. I can’t investigate every farmer who offers me produce.”

  “All the same, you could get into serious trouble for selling stolen melons,” Penny replied. “Of course, I have no intention of going to the police, providing you are willing to cooperate.”

  “What d’you mean, cooperate?” the dealer inquired suspiciously.

  “Only this. Will you see John Toby again?”

  “That’s hard to tell. He said he might bring in another load of melons within the next few days.”

  “When you receive the next shipment, will you notify me?”

  “Yes, I’m willing to do that,” the dealer promised. “If Toby is crooked, I want to know it myself.”

  Penny gave the man her name, address, and telephone number. Knowing that he might not be able to reach her quickly enough, she instructed him to detain the farmer by force if necessary.

  “If I can’t get in touch with you, I may have the fellow questioned by police,” the dealer offered. “I don’t want to put myself into a hole.”

  Penny was not entirely satisfied that the market man would keep his promise. However, she hesitated to make a report to the police without first consulting her father. Everything considered, it seemed best to let the situation work out as it would.

  “Well, your luck is still running true to form,”Louise said jokingly, as the girls drove toward Riverview. “Do you have any idea who John Toby may be?”

  “Not the slightest,” Penny confessed. “The description would fit Hank Holloway, or for that matter, any one of a dozen men I know.”

  The girls arrived in Riverview by mid-afternoon after an uneventful trip. Penny dropped Louise at the Sidell home and then went to the Star office to talk with her father. Mr. Parker was absent from his desk, but his secretary who was typing letters, explained that he would return in a moment.

  Penny sat down in her father’s chair to wait. A bulky, unsealed envelope lay on the desk. Peering at it curiously she noted that it bore the marking: “Property Deed: Lots 456, 457, and 458.”

  “What’s this?” she asked aloud. “Is Dad buying property?”

  “Oh, no,” the secretary replied, glancing up from her typewriter. “That is the deed and abstract for the Orphans’ Camp site.”

  “I wonder which property it is?”

  “The land Mr. Blake controls, I believe. At least he brought the papers into the office this morning for your father’s inspection. I heard him say that if the forms are satisfactory, the deal will be completed at once.”

  Penny unfolded one of the lengthy documents, shaking her head as she scanned the legal terms.

  “I don’t see how Da
d makes anything of this,” she said. “Such a mess of words and names!”

  “I imagine Mr. Parker intends to turn it over to his lawyer,” the secretary smiled.

  The editor entered the office at that moment, and Penny directed her next question to him.

  “Dad, is it all settled that the camp board will purchase Mr. Blake’s land?”

  “Practically so,” he answered. “If my lawyer, Mr. Adams, approves the abstract, the deal will be completed. Against my advice Mrs. Van Cleve already has given Blake five hundred dollars to hold an option.”

  “Why did she do that, Dad?”

  “Well, Blake convinced her he had another buyer for the property. It’s the old story. Competition stimulates interest.”

  “Do the papers seem to be all right?”

  “Oh, I’ve not looked at them,” Mr. Parker replied. “Blake is a good real estate man though, so there’s not likely to be any flaw.”

  “Who actually owns the property, Dad?”

  “It’s there on the abstract,” he answered. “Why not look it up for yourself?”

  “Too much like doing home-work,” Penny grinned, but she spread the document on the desk and began to read various names aloud. “‘Anna and Harry Clark to Lydia Goldwein, Lydia Goldwein to Benjamin Bowman—’”

  “What was that name?” Mr. Parker demanded sharply.

  “Benjamin Bowman.” Penny peered at the document a second time to make certain she had made no mistake. “That’s the truth, Dad. Who knows, maybe it’s your old pal, Ben!”

  “Are you making up that name?” Mr. Parker asked skeptically.

  Penny thrust the abstract into his hand. “Here, read it for yourself, Dad. Bowman seems to be the present owner of the land.”

  Mr. Parker rapidly scanned the document.

  “The land is held by a Benjamin Bowman,” he admitted, frowning. “A strange coincidence.”

  “I never heard of a Bowman family living near Riverview,” Penny remarked, reaching for a telephone book. “Did you?”

  “No, but Bowman is a fairly common name.”

  Turning to the “B” section Penny went through the telephone list.

  “There’s only one Bowman here,” she said, penciling a circle around the name. “A Mrs. Maud Bowman.”

  “The name Maud Bowman doesn’t appear on the abstract,” Mr. Parker declared, as he studied the document once more. “There’s something funny about this.”

  “Mr. Blake seemed rather eager to dispose of the land, didn’t he?”

  “His price was a bit low, which surprised me,” Mr. Parker said, thinking aloud. “Probably everything can be explained satisfactorily.”

  “Then why not ask Mr. Blake to do it?” Penny proposed. “He should be able to tell you something about his client.”

  “That’s really a first-class idea,” Mr. Parker agreed and he reached for a telephone. “I’ll ask Mr. Blake to come here at once.”

  CHAPTER 17

  FALSE RECORDS

  Mr. Blake, suave, completely at ease, sat opposite Mr. Parker and Penny in the editor’s private office.

  “I came as soon as I could after receiving your telephone message, Mr. Parker,” he said pleasantly. “Now what seems to be the trouble?”

  “Perhaps I shouldn’t have bothered you,” the editor apologized. “However, in glancing over the abstract for the Orphans’ Camp property I noticed that the land is owned by a man named Benjamin Bowman.”

  “Quite true. I am acting as his agent.”

  “It happens that I have had dealings with a man by that same name,” resumed Mr. Parker. “Rather unpleasant dealings, I might add. I’m curious to learn if this property owner is the same fellow.”

  “Very unlikely, I think,” Mr. Blake shrugged. “My client does not reside in Riverview.”

  “Nor does the man I have in mind.”

  “Can you tell us what he looks like?” Penny interposed eagerly.

  “I am very sorry, but I can’t,” Mr. Blake returned. “I’ve never met Mr. Bowman.”

  “Yet you act as his agent?” Mr. Parker inquired in astonishment.

  “All our dealings have been by mail or telephone.”

  “I see,” the editor commented reflectively. “Well, at least you can provide me with the man’s address.”

  “I can’t do that either,” Mr. Blake declined. “Benjamin Bowman is a salesman with no permanent address. He communicates with me at fairly regular intervals, but until I hear from him, I have no idea where he will be the following week.”

  “Your description seems to fit the man of my acquaintance,”Mr. Parker said dryly. “But tell me, how do you expect to complete this deal? Will Bowman come here to sign the necessary papers?”

  “Oh, that won’t be required. He’s already made out the sales documents, and also given me a power of attorney.”

  “Mr. Bowman seems to think of everything,” Mr. Parker remarked grimly. “I was hoping for the pleasure of meeting him.”

  “I really don’t see what all this has to do with the sale of the property,” Mr. Blake reproved in a mild voice. “You feel that the site is a suitable one, and the price right?”

  “I have no serious objections to it.”

  “Then why allow your personal feelings to interfere with the deal?”

  “I have no intention of doing so,” Mr. Parker answered.

  “Then if you’ll give your approval, we’ll sign the final papers tomorrow at my office. The dedication of the new camp has been set for the tenth of the month, and that means no time can be lost.”

  “Everything seems to have been settled without my approval,” Mr. Parker said, smiling. “However, if you don’t mind, I’ll keep this abstract a little longer.”

  “As you like,” the real estate man shrugged. “Have your lawyer go over the records with a fine tooth comb. He’ll find no flaws anywhere.”

  Arising, Mr. Blake bowed politely and left the office. Penny waited until she knew that he was a considerable distance from the door before seeking her father’s opinion of the interview.

  “Everything may be on the level,” he conceded, frowning. “I’ve no reason to distrust Blake, and yet I can’t help feeling that there’s something peculiar about this land deal.”

  “Blake has been rushing things through at such a furious rate,” Penny nodded. “Another thing, Ben Bowman is a well-known forger.”

  “What makes you think that?” the editor asked alertly. “Any real information?”

  Penny revealed everything she had learned that day at Claymore. Mr. Parker listened attentively, making few comments until she had finished.

  “I am more than ever convinced there is something phoney about Bowman’s connection with this affair,” he declared grimly. “We’ll see what my lawyer has to say.”

  Having made up his mind that the transaction merited a thorough investigation, Mr. Parker personally carried the questionable abstract to a reliable law firm, Adams and McPherson. The report came back late in the afternoon, and was relayed to Penny at the dinner table.

  “Mr. Adams says that the abstract seems to be drawn up correctly,” the editor disclosed. “He could find no flaw in it or in any of the records at the court house.”

  “Then apparently we jumped too hasty to conclusions,”Penny remarked in disappointment.

  “I’m not so sure. Mr. Adams tells me that the ownership of the property is a very muddled affair.”

  “Muddled?”

  “Yes, it has changed hands many times in the past year, and oddly, none of the buyers or sellers seem to be known in Riverview.”

  “What does Mr. Adams think about that, Dad?”

  “He advises that the records be inspected very carefully. It will take weeks though, for they are quite involved.”

  “I suppose that will hold up the opening of the camp.”

  “It may,” Mr. Parker acknowledged. “However, it seems wise to take every precaution even if the camp isn’t opened this year. Too muc
h money is involved to risk paying for land which may have a faulty title.”

  The following day, the editor conferred with members of the Camp Fund board, telling of his findings. To his chagrin, Mrs. Van Cleve did not share his views.

  “I trust Mr. Blake’s judgment implicitly,” she insisted. “I am sure the property will be satisfactory in every way. If there should by chance be any flaw in the title, he would make it good.”

  “We can’t possibly delay the dedication another week,” added another feminine member of the board. “The summer is nearly over now.”

  “At least postpone making the final payment until after I have had another report from my lawyers,” Mr. Parker pleaded.

  “Very well, we’ll do that,” Mrs. Van Cleve agreed. “Mr. Blake is so obliging I am sure he will allow us to set up equipment on the land, even though we don’t actually possess title.”

  The entire transaction seemed very unbusinesslike to Mr. Parker, but he did not attempt to force his opinion upon the board members. Accordingly, plans went forward for the grand opening of the camp. Stories appeared regularly in the Star, playground equipment and floored tents were set up on the camp site, and the actual dedication program was announced.

  “You might know Mr. Blake would be invited to make the main speech,” Penny remarked disapprovingly as she scanned the latest story of the coming affair. “Every day, in every way, he gives me a bigger and bigger pain!”

  Throughout the week both she and Louise had been very active, helping out at the new camp site. The land had been cleared of underbrush, trails had been constructed, and a well dug. While supervising the setting-up of slides, merry-go-rounds and teeter-totters, Penny upon several occasions had had disagreements with Mr. Blake. The man remained at the site almost constantly, imposing his wishes upon everyone.

  “A great deal of time and money has been spent getting that place ready for the dedication,” Penny commented to her father. “If anything should happen that the final papers aren’t signed, it would be a pity.”

  “I’ve had no report as yet,” Mr. Parker answered. “My lawyers tell me they never delved into a more involved case.”

  “What does Mr. Blake think about the investigation?”

  “He seems to be agreeable. However, I suspect he’s been working on the various board members, trying to get them to conclude the deal without waiting.”