The Penny Parker Megapack: 15 Complete Novels

by Mildred Benson

  Warm at last, Penny and Louise declared that they were ready to start. Old Henry brought the sled to the door and the team soon was racing down the icy road. Above the jingle of bells arose occasional squeals of laughter, for the young passengers enjoyed every minute of the unexpected ride.

  Presently Old Henry pulled up at the side of the road.

  “There’s the tower,” he said, pointing to a two-story wooden observatory rising above the evergreens. “I’ll wait until you find out if your friend’s here.”

  The girls thanked the old man for his kindly help and scrambled from the sled. They were sure their troubles were over, for they could see Salt Sommers seated at a table in the lighted tower.

  A flight of steps led to a narrow catwalk which ran around three sides of the glass-enclosed house. Before Penny and Louise could hammer on the door Salt opened it.

  “Well, see what the storm blew in!” the young man exclaimed. “I didn’t expect you girls to pop in on a night like this.”

  “Salt, how soon will you be driving to Riverview?”Penny asked breathlessly.

  “About twenty minutes. As soon as my relief shows up.”

  “May we ride with you?”

  “Why, sure.”

  Penny called down from the catwalk to tell Old Henry he need not wait. With a friendly wave of his hand, the cabin owner drove away. The girls then followed Salt into the drafty tower room.

  Curiously they gazed at their surroundings. In the center of the room stood a small coal stove. Above it a tacked sign admonished: “Keep this fire going!” There was a table, two chairs and a telephone. Also a round clock which indicated seven-forty.

  Before Penny and Louise could explain why they had come, Salt held up a warning finger.

  “Listen!” he exclaimed. “Wasn’t that a plane?”

  He ran out on the catwalk, letting in an icy blast of wind. In a moment he came back, grinning sheepishly.

  “A passenger airplane is due through here about this time. Sometimes I listen for it so hard I imagine the sound of the engine.”

  “The job must get tiresome at times,” Penny ventured, making herself comfortable by the glowing stove.

  “Oh, it does, but I’m glad to serve my trick. What brings you girls here on such a wild night?”

  The story was quickly told. Nevertheless, by the time Penny had telephoned to Mrs. Weems, it was after eight o’clock. Footsteps pounded on the stairway. An elderly man, his hat and overcoat encrusted with snow, swept into the room.

  “My relief,” said Salt, presenting Nate Adams to the girls. “I’m free to shove off now.”

  “Hope you can start your car,” commented the newcomer. “It’s mighty cold, and the temperature is still dropping.”

  Salt’s battered coupe was parked not far from the tower. Snow blanketed the windshield. He wiped it away and after several attempts started the engine.

  “Think I’d better stop at the first garage and have more alcohol put in the radiator. No use in taking a chance.”

  Salt followed the same road over which the girls had trudged an hour earlier. In passing the estate not far from Old Henry’s cabin, Penny peered with renewed interest at the big house. In the blinding snow storm she could not be sure, but she thought a light gleamed from an upstairs window.

  “Salt,” she inquired, “who lives in that place?”

  “Can’t tell you,” he replied, without turning his head.

  “Does anyone live there now?”

  “Haven’t seen anyone since I took over as observer at the tower. Nate Adams tells me the estate has a private air field. No planes have taken off or landed while I’ve been on duty.”

  “I thought I saw a light just now in an upstairs window.”

  “Probably a reflection from the car headlights,”Salt answered carelessly.

  The car passed Old Henry’s cabin and crept on until it came to a crossroad. Several buildings were clustered on either side of the main highway.

  “Guess I’ll stop at Mattie’s garage,” Salt said.

  As he pulled up on a gravel runway, a masculine looking woman came to the door of the car. She was in her mid-thirties and wore a man’s coat much too large for her. The girls guessed, and correctly, thatshe was Mattie Williams, owner of the garage and filling station.

  “How many will you have?” she asked Salt, briskly clearing the windshield of snow.

  The photographer replied that he did not require gasoline, but wanted at least a quart of alcohol.

  “Drive into the garage,” the woman instructed, opening a pair of double doors. “I’ll have Sam take care of it.”

  As the car rolled into the building, Mattie shouted loudly to a stoop-shouldered man who was busy in the rear office: “Hey, Sam! Look after this customer, will you?”

  Sam Burkholder slouched over to the car and began to unscrew the radiator cap. Penny and Louise assumed that the man must be Mattie’s husband, but a remark to that effect was corrected by Salt.

  “Sam is Mattie’s partner,” he explained in an undertone. “It’s hard to tell which one of them is boss of the place.”

  Losing interest in the pair, Penny and Louise climbed out of the coupe. They had noticed a cafe next door and thought they might go there for a cup of hot coffee.

  “Go ahead,” Salt encouraged. “I’ll stay here until this job is finished, and join you.”

  As the girls let themselves out the garage door, a truck pulled up in front of the cafe. They would have given it no more than a casual glance had not the driver alighted. He was a short, ruddy-faced man with a missing front tooth which made his facial expression rather grotesque. Without glancing at the girls, he entered the restaurant.

  “That man!” exclaimed Louise. “Haven’t we seen him somewhere?”

  “We have indeed,” agreed Penny grimly. “He’s the same driver who refused us a ride. Let’s march in there and give him a piece of our minds!”

  CHAPTER 3

  AN UNPLEASANT DRIVER

  From outside the lighted cafe, the girls could see the truck driver slouched at one of the counter stools.

  “I’m willing to go inside,” said Louise, “but why start a fuss? After all, I suppose he had a right to refuse us a ride.”

  “We might have frozen to death!”

  “Well, he probably didn’t realize we were lost.”

  “I wish I had your charitable disposition,” Penny said with a sniff. “He heard me shout, and he drove away just to be mean.”

  “Anyway, let’s forget it.”

  Louise took Penny’s elbow, steering her toward the cafe. The girls had been friends since grade school days. They made an excellent pair, for Louise exerted a subduing effect upon her impulsive chum.

  The only daughter of Anthony Parker, publisher of the Star, Penny had a talent for innocently getting into trouble. Inactivity bored her. When nothing more exciting offered, she frequently tried her hand at writing stories for her father’s newspaper. Such truly important yarns as The Vanishing Houseboat, The Wishing Well, Behind the Green Door, and The Clock Strikes Thirteen had rolled from her typewriter. Penny thoroughly enjoyed reportorial work, but best of all she loved to take an active part in the adventures she recounted.

  “Now remember,” Louise warned her, “not a word to that truck driver. We’ll just snub him.”

  “Oh, all right. I’ll try to behave myself.”

  Grinning, Penny allowed herself to be guided toward the restaurant. Near the doorway they came to the parked truck, and noticed that it was loaded with large wooden boxes.

  “War equipment,” commented Penny.

  “How do you know?”

  “Why, the boxes are unmarked except by numerals. Haven’t you noticed, Lou, that’s the way machines and materials are transported to and from factories. It’s done so no one can tell what’s inside.”

  Penny opened the door and they went into the warm, smoky cafe. As they seated themselves at a table the driver glanced toward them, but seem
ingly without recognition.

  “How about a date tonight, Baby?” he asked the waitress.

  Without replying, the girl slapped a menu card on the counter in front of him.

  “High toned, ain’t you?” he chuckled.

  “What will it be?” the waitress demanded impatiently.

  “How about a nice smile, Baby?”

  Turning away, the waitress started to serve another customer.

  “Gimme a cup o’ coffee and two sinkers,” the driver hurled after her. “And make it snappy too! I’m in a hurry.”

  Once the coffee and doughnuts had been set before him, the man was in no haste to consume them. He read a newspaper and fed a dollar and a half into a pin-ball machine.

  Penny and Louise ordered coffee. Knowing that Salt might be waiting for them, they swallowed the brew scalding hot and arose to leave.

  At the cashier’s desk Penny paid the bill. Upon impulse she quietly asked the man behind the cash register if he knew the driver.

  “Fellow by the name of Hank Biglow,” he answered.

  Before Penny could ask another question, a police patrol car screeched to a standstill just outside the restaurant. The cafe owner turned to stare as did the driver.

  “What are those cops comin’ here for?” Hank Biglow demanded.

  “How should I know?” retorted the cafe owner. “Maybe they want to ask you a few questions about that cargo you carry!”

  “What do you mean by that crack?” the driver asked harshly.

  As the cashier shrugged and did not reply, Hank allowed the matter to pass. Although he remained at the counter, he kept watching the police car through the window.

  The brief interchange between cafe owner and driver had interested Penny. To delay her departure, she bought a candy bar and began to unwrap it.

  Only one policeman had alighted from the car. Tramping into the cafe, he pounded his hands together and sought the warmth of a radiator.

  “Mind if I have a little of your heat?” he asked the cafe owner.

  “Help yourself.”

  Penny had been watching Hank Biglow. A moment before the man had sat tense and nervous at the counter. Now he seemed completely relaxed and at ease as he sipped his coffee.

  “Hello, Hank,” the policeman greeted him. “Didn’t see you at first. How’s the trucking business?”

  “Okay,” the trucker growled. “Workin’ me night and day.”

  The casual conversation disappointed Penny. Her first thought had been that Hank Biglow feared a police investigation. Seemingly, she had indulged in wishful thinking.

  Having no further reason for remaining in the cafe, the girls stepped out into the storm.

  “A pity that policeman wasn’t looking for Hank Biglow,” Penny muttered.

  “I thought for a minute he was,” responded Louise, stooping to fasten the buckle of her heavy overshoe. “At least Hank acted peculiar.”

  “You heard what the cashier said to him?”

  “About the cargo he carried?”

  “Yes,” nodded Penny, “what do you suppose he meant?”

  “Don’t you think it was intended as a joke?”

  “It didn’t seem that way to me, Lou. Hank took offense at the remark. He was as nervous as a cat, too.”

  Penny stared curiously at the big truck which was parked not far from the police car.

  “I wonder what can be in those big boxes, Lou?”

  “A few minutes ago you said they contained tools or defense plant products.”

  “That was only my guess. I assumed it from the lack of marking on the boxes.”

  Penny paused beside the big truck. Pressing her face close to an opening between the slats, she counted ten large crates, all the same size and shape.

  “Lou, maybe this isn’t defense plant merchandise,” she speculated. “Maybe it’s some sort of contraband.…”

  Penny’s words trailed off. Someone had touched her on the shoulder.

  Whirling around, she faced the same policeman who a moment before had entered the cafe.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” he inquired.

  “Why, just looking,” stammered Penny. “We were wondering what’s inside these boxes.”

  “Machinery,” replied the policeman. “Now skidoo! Behave yourselves or I’ll have to speak to your parents.”

  CHAPTER 4

  STOLEN TIRES

  “We’re very sorry,” Louise apologized to the policeman. “We didn’t suppose it would do any harm to look at the outside of the boxes.”

  “Run along, run along,” the officer said impatiently.

  Penny was tempted to make a rather pointed remark, but Louise pulled her away.

  “Never argue with a policeman,” she whispered. “You always lose.”

  “We weren’t doing any harm,” Penny scowled. “What does he think we are, a couple of female spies?”

  Entering the garage, the girls saw that the car had been serviced. Salt could be seen inside the little glass-enclosed office.

  “I’m waiting for Sam Burkholder,” he explained as they joined him. “He took care of the radiator and then disappeared.”

  Penny and Louise loitered about the office, reading the evening newspaper. After a little delay, Mattie Williams appeared.

  “Can you give me my bill?” Salt requested. “We’re in a hurry to get to Riverview.”

  “I thought Sam was looking after you,” Mattie replied, making out the slip.

  The bill settled, Salt backed the car from the garage. Penny noticed that Hank Biglow’s truck no longer stood in front of the cafe. The police car also had gone. She would have thought no more of it, had not Louise at that moment exclaimed:

  “Penny, that truck is parked at the rear of the garage now! And they’re unloading the boxes!”

  Penny twisted around to see for herself. It was true that the big truck had been backed up close to the rear entrance of the garage. Through the blinding snow, she could just see Hank Biglow and Sam Burkholder carrying one of the boxes into the building.

  “Well, that’s funny!” she exclaimed. “Those crates can’t contain defense machinery or materials. Otherwise Hank wouldn’t be delivering them here.”

  “What crates?” inquired Salt, shifting gears.

  Penny told him what had transpired in the cafe, and revealed that she and Louise had been rebuked by the policeman. Salt, occupied with driving, did not consider the incident in any way significant.

  “Oh, you know how some cops are,” he commented carelessly.

  The car went into a wild skid and Salt thereafter devoted his attention strictly to driving.

  Without further mishap, the party arrived safely at Riverview. Louise alighted at her own home, and then Salt took Penny to the Parker residence.

  “Won’t you come in for a cup of chocolate?” she invited.

  “Thanks, not tonight,” Salt replied. “I’m dead tired. Think I’ll hit the hay early.”

  Only one light burned in the living-room as Penny stomped in out of the cold. Mrs. Weems, the plump housekeeper who had served the Parkers for many years, sat beside the hearth, sewing.

  “I’m glad you’re home at last!” she exclaimed, getting up quickly. “You’ve no idea how worried I’ve been.”

  “But Louise and I telephoned.”

  “I couldn’t hear you very well. I barely was able to make out that something had happened to your car.”

  “A major catastrophe, Mrs. Weems. Every tire was stolen!”

  While the housekeeper bombarded her with questions, Penny stripped off overshoes and heavy outer clothing. Pools of water began to form on the rug.

  “Take everything out to the kitchen,” Mrs. Weems said hastily. “Have you had your supper?”

  “Not even a nibble. And I’m starving!”

  As Mrs. Weems began to prepare a hot meal, Penny perched herself on the kitchen table, alternately talking, and chewing on a sugared bun.

  “If you ever were lost in a
n Arctic blizzard you have a good picture of what Louise and I endured,” she narrated grandly. “Oh, it was awful!”

  “Losing five practically new tires is a mere detail in comparison?”

  “It’s nothing less than a tragedy! I was thinking—maybe you ought to break the sad news to Dad.”

  “Indeed not. You’ll have to tell him yourself. However, he’s attending a meeting and won’t be home until eleven.”

  “That’s much too late for me,” Penny said quickly. “I’ll see him in the morning. And I do hope you cooperate by giving him a dandy breakfast.”

  “Just see to it that you don’t oversleep,” suggested the housekeeper dryly.

  Penny consumed an enormous supper and then slipped off to bed. She did not hear her father come home a few hours later. In the morning when Mrs. Weems called her, it seemed advisable to take a long time in dressing. Her father had gone by the time she strolled downstairs.

  “Did you tell Dad?” she asked the housekeeper hopefully.

  “You knew I would,” chided Mrs. Weems. “Your father expects to see you at his office at nine o’clock.”

  “How’d he take the blow?”

  “Naturally one couldn’t expect him to be pleased.”

  With a deep sigh, Penny sat down to breakfast. Worry over the coming interview did not interfere with her usual excellent appetite. She had orange juice, two slices of toast, four pancakes, and then, somewhat concerned lest she lose her slim figure, debated whether to ask for another helping.

  “The batter’s all gone,” Mrs. Weems settled the matter. “Do stop dawdling and get on to the office. Your father shouldn’t be kept waiting.”

  With anything but enthusiasm, Penny took herself to the plant of the Riverview Star. Passing through the busy newsroom where reporters pounded at their typewriters, she entered her father’s private office.

  “Hello, Dad,” she greeted him with forced cheerfulness. “Mrs. Weems said you wanted to see me.”

  “So you lost five tires last night?” the editor barked. Mr. Parker was a lean, keen-eyed man of early middle age, known throughout the state as a fearless newspaper man. At the moment, Penny decided that“fearful” would prove a more descriptive term.

  “Well, Dad, it was this way—” she began meekly.

  “Never mind a long-winded explanation,” he interrupted, smiling. “It wasn’t your fault—the car was stripped.”