The Penny Parker Megapack: 15 Complete Novels

by Mildred Benson

  Driving slowly toward Riverview, Penny reviewed what she had seen. She was convinced the information was valuable, yet she scarcely knew how to use it.

  “If Salt suggests that I report to the police, that’s what I’ll do,” she decided.

  Enroute home, Penny stopped at another garage to make arrangements to have her stripped coupe hauled into the city.

  “How about the Icicle?” Louise asked, thinking her chum had forgotten the iceboat.

  “It will have to stay where it is for the time being,”Penny replied. “If it’s stolen, I won’t much care.”

  At the Sidell home, the girls separated. Thanking Louise for the use of the car, Penny returned afoot to the Star office. Salt Sommers was absent on assignment, so she did not linger long. As she rounded a street corner on her way home, a newsboy for a rival paper blocked her path.

  “Read all about it!” he shouted. “Anthony Parker Believed Kidnaped! Paper, Miss?”

  Penny dropped a coin into the lad’s hand and hastily scanned the front page. The story of her father’s disappearance was a highly colored account, but contained not a useful item of information. Tossing the sheet into a street paper-container, she moved on.

  She was passing the Gillman Department Store when her attention was drawn to a woman who waited for a bus.

  “I’ve seen her somewhere before,” thought Penny, pausing. “Last night—”

  The woman wore a small black hat and a long, old-fashioned dark coat which came nearly to her ankles. It was the shape of the garment and its unusual length which struck Penny as familiar. Why, the woman resembled the one who had fled from the cemetery!

  Penny pretended to gaze into the store window. Actually she studied the woman from every angle. She might have been forty-seven years of age and was large-boned. Her face was heavily lined, and her long hands were covered by a pair of cheap, black cotton gloves.

  “Can it be the same woman?” thought Penny in perplexity.

  A bus bearing a county placard glided up to the curb. The woman in black was the only passenger to board it.

  “That bus goes out toward Baldiff Road and the cemetery!” Penny told herself. “And that’s where I’m going too!”

  An instant before the folding doors slammed shut, she sprang aboard. Paying her fare, she sought a seat at the rear of the bus.

  No sooner was the coach in motion than Penny regretted her hasty action. What could she hope to gain by pursuing the strange woman? She was not certain enough of her identification to make a direct accusation. County buses ran infrequently. In all likelihood, she would find herself stranded in the country.

  Penny arose to leave the bus. Then changing her mind a second time, she sat down. Try as she would, she could not rid herself of a conviction that the woman she followed was the same one who had visited the cemetery.

  The bus made few stops in the city. Once beyond the city limits, it sped along at a brisk speed. To Penny’s satisfaction, the woman in black soon began to gather up her packages. She pressed a button and the bus skidded to a stop at a crossroads.

  With no show of haste, Penny followed the woman from the bus. Pretending to enter a grocery store at the corner, she waited and watched.

  Apparently the woman lived nearby, for she started off down a narrow, winding road which ran at right angles to the main highway.

  “Why that’s the road that runs past the Harrison place,” Penny thought. “Wonder if she can be going there?”

  Waiting until the woman was nearly out of sight, she trudged after her. Walking was difficult for the road had not been cleared by a snow plow. Fortunately for Penny, the woman did not once glance behind her. She kept steadily on until she came within view of the big estate house on the hill. Just before she reached the boundary fence, she cut across a field, approaching the dwelling from the rear.

  Penny remained at the road, watching. The woman took a key from her pocket, unlocking a small, padlocked gate at the rear of the grounds. She snapped the lock shut again, and disappeared into the house.

  Penny perched herself on top of an old-fashioned rail fence to think over what she had seen. The woman, whoever she was, obviously lived at the estate. Yet the cheap quality of her clothing suggested that she could not be the owner of such an expensive establishment.

  “Probably a servant or caretaker,” Penny reasoned. “But is she the one who ran away last night?”

  Far over the hills in a lonely grove of pines stood Oakland Cemetery. On either side of Baldiff Road stretched dense woods, a growth that crept to the very boundaries of the Harrison estate. Penny instantly noted that it would be possible for a person to flee from the cemetery to the very door of the estate without once leaving the shelter of trees.

  “Perhaps it was the same woman!” she thought. “If she lives here, it would be logical for her to specify Oakland Cemetery as a meeting place! And escape would be easy for her, too!”

  Penny slid down from the fence. It would do no good to question the woman. Rather, if she were guilty, questions might serve to place her on the alert. Far better, she reasoned, to bide her time.

  “I’ll learn everything I can about that woman,” she thought. “Tonight I’ll watch the house.”

  In making her plans, Penny did not take into account Mrs. Weems’ attitude. Upon reaching home late in the afternoon, she found the housekeeper in a most discouraged mood. No favorable news had been received from any source.

  “I’ve been worried about you too, Penny,” Mrs. Weems confessed. “Where did you go after you left the Star office?”

  Penny told of her trip to Mattie Williams’ garage and later to the Harrison estate. In particular she described the mysterious woman she had followed by bus.

  “I plan to go back there tonight,” she concluded. “For the first time since Dad disappeared, I feel I may have stumbled into a valuable clue!”

  Mrs. Weems looked troubled. “But Penny,” she protested, “you can’t go to the estate alone!”

  “I thought perhaps Louise would accompany me.”

  “Two girls alone at night! I can’t give my consent, Penny. It’s not safe.”

  “But I don’t wish to call the police just yet, Mrs. Weems. I’ve no real evidence. Will you come with me?”

  The housekeeper hesitated. Naturally a timid woman, she had no desire to stir from her own fireside that night. But she knew where her duty lay.

  “Yes, I’ll go with you, Penny,” she consented. “Shall we start soon?”

  “Not until after dark. One can’t expect a ghost to show up in broad daylight.”

  “A ghost!” Mrs. Weems quavered. “Penny, what are you letting me in for?”

  “Frankly, I don’t know. Some strange things have been going on at the Harrison estate. Tonight I hope to solve part of the mystery at least.”

  Pressed for an explanation, Penny repeated Mose Johnson’s story and told of seeing the strange white-robed figure with her own eyes. The tale did not add to Mrs. Weems’ comfort of mind.

  “We’re crazy to go out there,” the housekeeper protested. “Must we do it?”

  “I think it may be our one hope of gaining a clue which will lead to Dad.”

  “Then I’m willing to risk it,” agreed Mrs. Weems. “However, we’ll drive out in a taxi. And I shall personally select the driver—a man to be depended on in an emergency.”

  So excited was the housekeeper that she had difficulty in preparing the evening meal. In the end Penny took over, shooing her out of the kitchen.

  “I declare I don’t know why I am so nervous,” Mrs. Weems shivered. “I haven’t felt so shaky since the time I attended a seance at Osandra’s.”

  “You saw ghosts a-plenty on that occasion,” smiled Penny. “I only hope we have as much luck tonight.”

  By eight o’clock everything was in readiness for the journey into the country. Dressing warmly and carrying an extra blanket, Penny and Mrs. Weems walked to a nearby cab station. There the housekeeper selected a driver,
a burly man who looked as if he might have been an ex-prizefighter.

  “Sure, Ma’am,” he said as Mrs. Weems questioned him, “you can depend on me to look after you.”

  “How are you at capturing ghosts?” inquired Penny, climbing into the cab.

  The driver looked a trifle startled. “Swell!” he rejoined. “Bring on your spook, and if he don’t weigh no more than two hundred pounds, I’ll nail him!”

  Penny and Mrs. Weems were satisfied that they were in good hands. They instructed the man, Joe Henkell, to drive directly to the old Harrison estate.

  “By the way, do you know who owns the property?”Penny asked as the cab rolled toward the country.

  “Fellow from the East,” Joe flung over his shoulder. “I’m not sure. Think his name is Deming—George Allan Deming. Wealthy sportsman. Has his own plane an’ everything.”

  “Married?”

  “Couldn’t tell you. The estate has been closed up this winter.”

  The cab soon approached the familiar grounds. Penny directed the driver to pull up some distance from the dark house.

  “Switch off the headlights,” she instructed. “We’ll wait here. It may be a long time too, so make yourself comfortable.”

  Joe, taking Penny at her word, began to smoke a vile-smelling cigar which nearly drove Mrs. Weems to distraction. After an hour had elapsed, the housekeeper scarcely could endure the stuffy air of the cab.

  “Penny, must we wait any longer?” she asked plaintively.

  “Why, it’s early, Mrs. Weems. I expect to stay until midnight at least.”

  “Midnight!” The housekeeper quietly collapsed.

  Just then the cab driver turned around, touching Penny’s arm. He directed her attention to the house by saying briefly: “A light just went on.”

  Penny and Mrs. Weems focused their attention on the upper floor of the estate. A single light could be seen burning there, but as they watched it blinked off.

  “Now if a ghost is to appear this is the time!” announced Penny. “Why don’t we get closer?”

  She sprang from the cab. Mrs. Weems and the taxi driver followed with less enthusiasm. The housekeeper, quivering and shaking, clutched the man’s arm as she struggled against the wind.

  “Joe, you stay right beside me!” she ordered.

  “Sure, Ma’am,” he said soothingly. “I couldn’t get away if I had a mind to.”

  Penny, a step ahead, held up her hand as a warning for silence. She had seen the familiar white figure rounding a corner of the house.

  “There’s the ghost!” she whispered. “See! Beyond the gate!”

  Joe whistled softly.

  “A spook, sure’s I’m alive!” he muttered.

  “And you promised to nail him,” reminded Penny, starting forward along the fence. “We’ll creep a little closer. Then Joe, I shall expect you to do your stuff!”

  CHAPTER 15

  GHOST IN THE GARDEN

  The three investigators moved stealthily along the high fence. Through the iron palings they could see a white-garbed figure walking with measured tread amid the shrubs of the frozen garden. Back and forth the apparition strolled, following a well-trod path between the shrunken snowdrifts.

  Penny, Mrs. Weems, and the taxi driver crept closer. The ghostly one did not note their approach. Hooded head bent low, he glided to the gate, testing chain and padlock.

  “Poor restless soul!” whispered Mrs. Weems.

  Penny gave the housekeeper a tiny pinch to break the spell which had fallen upon her. “That’s no ghost,” she whispered. “Don’t you see! It’s a man wearing a heavy white bathrobe over his clothing. He’s pulled the wide collar up over his head like a hood!”

  “It’s a man all right,” added the taxi driver. “You can tell by the way he walks. Ghosts kinda slither, don’t they?”

  “I believe it’s someone imprisoned on the grounds!”Penny whispered tensely. “Watch!”

  The ghost, his face shadowed, rattled the chain again. Then with a distinct, audible sigh, he turned and tramped back along the fence away from the gate.

  “Aw, that spook could get out if he wanted to,” muttered the taxi driver. “Why don’t he climb over the fence?”

  “Perhaps the man is a sleep walker,” suggested Mrs. Weems nervously. “Whoever he is, the poor fellow should be in his bed.”

  Penny was determined to learn the identity of the man. Moving to the gate, she called softly. The figure in white whirled around, looking straight toward her.

  Penny caught a fleeting impression of a lean, startled face. Then the man turned and fled toward the house. No longer could there be any doubt that he was a man, for as he ran the legs of his woolen pajamas showed beneath the white robe.

  “Wait!” Penny called. “Please wait!”

  The ghostly one hesitated, and glanced over his shoulder. But the next moment he was gone, having vanished through a side door into the house.

  Penny, weak from excitement, clung to the gate. “Mrs. Weems!” she cried. “Did you see him?”

  “Yes, you frightened him away when you shouted.”

  “But didn’t you notice his face? As he turned toward me, I caught a glimpse of it. Mrs. Weems, the man looked like Dad!”

  “Oh, Penny,” the housekeeper murmured, taking her arm, “you can’t be right. How could it be your father?”

  “It looked like him.”

  “Not to me,” said Mrs. Weems firmly. “Why, if it had been Mr. Parker, he would have answered when you called. He wouldn’t have run away.”

  Penny was compelled to acknowledge the logic of the housekeeper’s reasoning. “I guess that’s true,” she said reluctantly. “I’ll admit I didn’t see his face plainly. I wanted it to be Dad so badly I may have imagined the resemblance.”

  A light was switched on in an upstairs room of the estate house. However, blinds were lowered, and those on the ground did not obtain another glimpse of the mysterious man who haunted the snowy garden. Finally Mrs. Weems induced Penny to return to the taxi.

  Speeding toward Riverview, neither of them had much to say. Penny could not blot from her mind the vision of a startled, bewildered face. Reason told her that Mrs. Weems was right—the man could not be her father. Who then, was he? Why had he refused to talk to her at the gate?

  “The man may have been a sleep walker,” she thought. “Possibly the owner of the estate, Mr. Deming.”

  The cab had reached the business section of Riverview. Upon impulse Penny decided to stop at the Star plant to make sure that everything was going well.

  “It won’t take me long,” she assured Mrs. Weems. “Why don’t you wait in the cab?”

  Only a skeleton night force was on duty at the Star office. The advertising department had been closed, and on the floor above, scrub women were busy mopping up. A sleepy-eyed desk man greeted Penny as she entered the deserted newsroom.

  “Everything’s Okay,” he assured her. “The final edition’s out, and most of the boys have gone home. I was just taking a little cat nap.”

  “Any news?”

  “Not about your father. The police have been kept busy chasing down false rumors. About four hours ago a report came in your father had been seen in Chicago.”

  “Chicago!”

  “Just a fake report.”

  “Oh, I see,” said Penny weakly. “No word from Jerry, I suppose?”

  The deskman shook his head. “Plenty of mail for you though.”

  “Anything important?”

  “Mostly replies to that reward offer you made. A lot of ’em are screwball letters. Your father’s been seen in every section of the city from the river to the Heights.”

  “Where is the mail?”

  “I dumped it on your father’s desk.”

  “I’ll take it home to read,” Penny said. “By going through every letter carefully I may stumble upon a clue.”

  She crossed the newsroom and opened the door of her father’s office.

  The light was no
t on. Groping for the wall switch, her keen ears detected stealthy steps moving away from her. Sensing the presence of someone in the room she called sharply: “Who’s here?”

  There was no reply. Across the room, a door softly opened and clicked shut. Penny was startled. Although the private office had two entrances, one leading directly into the hall, the latter had not been used in years. Usually the door was locked and a clothes tree stood in front of it.

  Her groping fingers found the switch and she flooded the room with light. A glance revealed that mail lying on the desk had been disturbed. One of the top drawers remained open. The clothes tree had been moved from in front of the hall door. Plainly, someone had just fled from the room!

  Darting to the corridor door, Penny jerked it open. No one was in sight. However, at the end of the deserted hall, she saw the elevator cage moving slowly downward.

  “I’ll get that fellow yet!” she thought grimly.

  Taking the hall at a run, she plunged down the stairway two steps at a time. Breathless but triumphant, she reached the lower corridor just as the cage stopped with a jerk.

  Harley Schirr stepped out, closing the grilled door behind him.

  “Fancy meeting you here!” said Penny, her eyes flashing. “What were you doing in my father’s office?”

  Schirr regarded her coolly. Without answering, he tried to brush past her.

  “You were looking for something in Dad’s desk!”Penny accused, blocking the way. “I know how you got in too! Through the hall entrance. You’re such a professional snooper you probably have a skeleton key that unlocks half the doors in the building!”

  “I’ve had about enough of your insolence!” Schirr retorted. “There’s no law which says I can’t come to this plant. And speaking of law, I may sue you for libel.”

  “What a laugh.”

  “You’ll not be laughing in a few days, Miss Parker! Oh, no! I’ve hired a lawyer, and we’re preparing our case. You’ve insulted me, humiliated me in the eyes of my fellow newspapermen, but you’ll have to pay. And pay handsomely!”

  The threat failed to disturb Penny. Schirr, determined to wound her deeply, went on with grim satisfaction.