The Penny Parker Megapack: 15 Complete Novels

by Mildred Benson

  “Why, that’s the plate number of mine!” the Widow Jones exclaimed. “Leastwise, I recollect it is!”

  “You’re certain the car still is in the shed?” Salt asked.

  “You got me all confused now, and I hain’t cartain of anything. Come in while I get a lantern, and we’ll look!”

  Penny and Salt stepped into a clean kitchen, slightly fragrant with the odor of spicy catsup made that afternoon. On a table stood row upon row of sealed bottles ready to be carried to the cellar.

  The Widow Jones lighted a lantern and threw a woolen shawl over her bony shoulders.

  “Follow me,” she bade.

  At a swift pace, she led the way down a path to a rickety shed which stood far back from the road.

  The woman unfastened the big door which swung back on creaking hinges. Raising her lantern, she flashed the light on the floor of the shed.

  “Hit’s gone!” she exclaimed. “Someone’s stole the car!”

  Only a large blotch of oil on the cracked concrete floor revealed where the automobile had stood.

  “Have you no idea who took the car?” Penny inquired.

  Grimly the Widow Jones closed the shed door and slammed the hasp into place.

  “Maybe I have an’ maybe I han’t! Leastwise, I larned forty years ago to keep my lips shut less I could back up my words with proof.”

  In silence the widow started back toward the house. Midway to the house, she suddenly paused, listening attentively.

  From a nearby tree an owl hooted, but Penny and Salt sensed that was not the sound which had caught the woman’s ear.

  She blew out the lantern and wordlessly motioned for the pair to move back into the deep shadow of the tree.

  Holding her shirt to keep it from blowing in the night breeze, the woman gazed intently toward a swamp road some distance from the boundary of her land. For the first time, Salt and Penny became aware of a muffled sound of a running truck motor.

  “Sounds like a car or truck back there in the swamp,” Salt commented. “Is there a road near here leading in?”

  “There’s a road yonder,” the widow answered briefly.

  “It goes into the swamp?”

  “Only for a mile or so.”

  “What would a truck be doing in there at this time of night?” Penny probed.

  “I wouldn’t know,” answered the widow dryly. “There’s some things goes on in this swamp that smart folkses don’t ask questions about.”

  Without relighting the lantern, she walked briskly on. Reaching the rear porch, she paused and turned once more to Salt and Penny.

  “I be much obliged to ye comin’ out here to tell me about my car being stole. Will ye come in and set a spell?”

  “Thanks, we’ll have to be getting back to Riverview,”Salt declined the invitation. “It’s late.”

  “You’ll catch your death if you stay out in this damp swamp air,” the woman said, her gaze resting disapprovingly on Penny’s flimsy dress and low-cut slippers. “I’d advise you to git right back to town. ’Evenin’ to you both.”

  She went inside and closed the door.

  “Queer character,” Salt commented as he and Penny made their way to the roadside, “Forthright to say the least.”

  “I rather liked her, Salt. She seemed genuine. And she has courage to live here alone at the edge of the swamp.”

  “Sure,” the photographer agreed. “Plenty of iron in her soul. Wonder what she saw there at the edge of the swamp?”

  “It seemed to me she was afraid we might try to investigate. Did you notice how she advised us to go directly to Riverview?”

  “She did make the remark a little pointed. The Widow Jones is no dumbbell! You could tell she has a good idea who stole her auto, and she wasn’t putting out anything about that truck.”

  Salt had started the car and was ready to turn around. Penny placed a detaining hand on the steering wheel.

  “Let’s go the other direction, Salt!”

  “On into the swamp?”

  “It’s only a short distance to that other road. If the truck is still there, we might see something interesting.”

  Salt’s lips parted in a wide grin.

  “Sure thing,” he agreed. “What have we got to lose?”

  CHAPTER 10

  INSIDE THE WOODSHED

  The throaty croak of frogs filled the night as Salt, car headlights darkened, brought up at a bend of the road near the swamp’s edge.

  Entrance to the pinelands could be gained in any one of three ways. A road, often mired with mud, had been built by a lumber mill, and led for nearly a mile into the higher section of the area. There it ended abruptly.

  Half a mile away, near Trapper Joe’s shack, lay the water course Penny and Louise had followed. From it branched a maze of confusing channels, one of which marked the way to the heart of the swamp. But only a few persons ever had ventured beyond Lookout Island, close to the exit.

  The third entrance, also not far from Trapper Joe’s, consisted of a narrow boardwalk path nailed to fallen trees and stumps just above the water level. The walk had fallen into decay and could be used for only five hundred feet.

  “Seems like a funny time for a truck to be coming out of the swamp road,” Salt remarked, peering into the gloom of the pine trees. “Hear anything?”

  Penny listened intently and shook her head. But a moment later, she explained: “Now I do! The truck’s coming this way.”

  “Let’s get closer to the road exit,” Salt proposed. “We’d better leave the car here, if we don’t want to be seen.”

  Penny’s high heels kept twisting on the rutty road, and finally in exasperation, she took them off, stripped away her stockings, and walked in her bare feet.

  The truck now was very close and the pair could hear its laboring engine. Salt drew Penny back against the bottle-shaped trunk of a big tree at the road exitway. There they waited.

  Presently the truck chugged into view, its headlights doused. On the main road, not ten yards from where Salt and Penny crouched, it came to a jerky halt.

  The driver was a husky fellow who wore a heavy jacket and cap which shadowed his face. With him in the cab were two younger men of athletic build. Both wore homespun clothes and stout boots.

  As the truck halted, the two younger men sprang to the ground.

  Instantly Penny and Salt were certain they had seen one of the strangers before.

  “He’s the man who drove the accident car this afternoon!”Penny whispered. “The auto stolen from Widow Jones!”

  Salt nodded, placing his hand over the girl’s lips. He drew her back behind the tree.

  The precaution was a wise one, for a moment later, a flashlight beam played over the spot where they had been standing.

  “Thought I heard something!” one of the truckers muttered.

  “Jest them frogs a-croakin’,” his companion answered. “You’re gettin’ jumpy.”

  “Let’s get a move on!” growled the driver of the truck. “I gotta get this load to Hartwell City before dawn. You keepin’ any of the stuff?”

  “A couple o’ gallons will do us. Too durn heavy to carry.”

  From the rear end of the truck, the two young men who had alighted, pulled out a large wooden container with handles.

  “When do you want me to stop by again?” the truck driver called above the rumble of the motor.

  “Can’t tell yet,” one of the men answered, swinging the heavy container across his shoulder. “Pappy’ll send word.”

  The truck pulled away, and the two young men started down the road in the opposite direction. Not until they were a considerable distance away, did Penny speak.

  “What do you make of it all, Salt?”

  “It’s got me puzzled,” he admitted. “If I’d have seen the truck come out of the swamp at any other time I wouldn’t have thought much about it. But considering the way Mrs. Jones acted, some funny business seems to be going on here.”

  “I’m certain one
of those young men was the driver of the accident car this afternoon!”

  “It did look like him.”

  “They must be the Hawkins boys, Coon and Hod,”Penny went on, thinking aloud. “What were they doing in the swamp so late at night? And what are they trucking?”

  “Echo answers ‘what’,” Salt replied. “Well, shall we start for Riverview?”

  “Without learning for certain who those two fellows are?”

  “I would like to know. The only thing is, your father’s going to be plenty annoyed when he finds how late I’ve kept you out.”

  “Leave Dad to me.”

  “Okay, but if we run into trouble tonight, we can figure we went out of our way to ask for it.”

  By this time, the two swampers had vanished into the darkness far up the road.

  “They’re heading toward Trapper Joe’s place,”Penny observed. “The Hawkins’ farm is just beyond, on the waterway.”

  “We may as well give them a good start and then follow in the car,” Salt decided.

  They walked back to the parked automobile where Penny put on her shoes and stockings again. After giving the two strangers a good five minutes start, Salt drove slowly after them, keeping headlights turned off.

  Trapper Joe’s dismal shack loomed up dark and deserted.

  “We’ll have to park here,” Penny instructed, “The road beyond is terrible and it plays out.”

  Alighting, the couple looked about for a glimpse of the two swampers. The nearby marsh seemed cold, unfriendly and menacing. Heavy dew lay on the earth and a thick mist was rising from among the trees.

  From behind a shadowy bush, two gleaming eyes gazed steadily and unblinkingly at the pair. Penny drew back, nervously gripping Salt’s hand.

  “It’s only a cat,” he chuckled.

  “A wild one, maybe,” Penny shivered. “All sorts of animals live in the swamp, Trapper Joe told me.”

  “Want to stay in the car and spare those pretty shoes of yours?”

  “No, let’s go on.” The gleaming eyes now had vanished and Penny felt courageous again. Nevertheless, she kept close beside Salt as they tramped along the dark road.

  A pale moon was rising over the treetops, providing faint illumination. Penny and Salt no longer could see the pair they had followed, and were afraid they had lost them completely.

  Then they spied the swampers crawling over a fence some distance away.

  “There they are!” Penny whispered. Just as I thought! They’re taking a short cut to the Hawkins’place.”

  Unaware that they were being followed, the two swampers crossed a plowed field, frequently shifting their heavy burden.

  Coming at length to the Hawkins’ farm, they vanished into the woodshed.

  “Guess you were right, Penny,” Salt acknowledged, pausing by the fence. “Evidently they’re the Hawkins’boys.”

  The door of the house had opened and a light now glowed in the window. A bulky figure stood silhouetted on the threshold.

  “Who’s there?” the man called sharply. “That you, Coon?”

  From inside the shed came a muffled reply: “Yep, it’s me and Hod.”

  “How’d you make out, son?”

  “She’s all took care of an’ on ’er way to Hartwell City. Ike says he’ll fetch you the cash in a day or two.”

  “Git to bed soon’s you kin,” the older man said, apparently pleased by the information. “Your Ma’s tired and wants to git to sleep ’for mawning.”

  He moved back into the house, closing the door.

  “Guess we’ve learned all we can,” Salt remarked. “We may as well get a little shut-eye ourselves.”

  Penny, however, was unwilling to leave so soon.

  “I wish we could find out what is in that big container, Salt! After those Hawkins’ boys leave, maybe we could sneak a peek.”

  “And get caught!”

  “We can be careful. Salt, we’ve stumbled into a lot of information tonight that may prove very valuable. We’ll never have another chance like it. Come on, Salt, it’s worth a try.”

  Despite his better judgment, Salt allowed himself to be persuaded. For ten minutes the pair waited near the fence. Finally they saw Hod and Coon Hawkins emerge from the shed and enter the house.

  Another ten minutes they waited. By that time the light had been extinguished inside the house.

  “Everyone’s abed now,” Penny said in satisfaction. “Now for the woodshed!”

  Crossing the field, the pair approached the tumbledown building from the side away from the house. The woodshed door was closed.

  Penny groped for the knob and instead, her hand encountered a chain and padlock.

  “Locked!” she muttered impatiently. “Just our luck!”

  The rattle of the chain had disturbed a hound penned inside the shed. Before Salt and Penny could retreat, the animal’s paws scratched against the door and he uttered a deep and prolonged bay.

  “Jeepers!” exclaimed Salt. “We’ve got to get away from here—and fast!”

  Already it was too late. A window on the second floor of the house flew up and Mrs. Hawkins in cotton nightdress and lace cap, peered down into the yard.

  “Who’s there?” she called sharply. “Answer up if you ain’t hankerin’ fer a bullet through yer innards!”

  CHAPTER 11

  AN ABANDONED CAR

  For Salt and Penny, the moment was a perilous one. In plain view of the upstairs window, they could not hope to escape detection.

  But shrewdly, they reasoned that Mrs. Hawkins could not be certain they had been trying to break into the woodshed.

  “Oh, is that you, Mrs. Hawkins?” Penny called as cheerily as if greeting an old friend. “I hope we didn’t awaken you.”

  The farm woman leaned far out the window. “Who be ye folkses?” she demanded suspiciously. “What you doin’ here?”

  “Don’t you remember me?” Penny asked. “I stopped here this afternoon with my girl friend. We had a drink at your pump.”

  “Humph! That ain’t no gal with you now! Who is he?”

  “Oh, just a friend who works at—” Penny was on the verge of saying the Riverview Star, but caught herself in time and finished—“a friend who works where I do.”

  “And what you spyin’ around here for?”

  “We’re looking for another friend of ours.”

  “’Pears to me you got a heap o’ friends,” the woman said harshly. “This afternoon you was cryin’ you lost a dog.”

  “It was Louise who lost the dog,” said Penny, well realizing that her story would never convince the woman.

  “Whatever you lost, man or beast, git off this property and don’t come back!” Mrs. Hawkins ordered. “We hain’t seen no dog, and we hain’t seen none o’ yer friends. Now git!”

  Another face had appeared at the window—that of the bearded stranger Penny had seen earlier in the day on Lookout Point. No longer could she doubt that he was Ezekiel Hawkins, the man who a few minutes earlier had ordered his two sons to bed.

  “We’re leaving now,” said Salt, before Penny had an opportunity to speak again of Louise’s missing dog. “Sorry to have bothered you.”

  Taking Penny firmly by an elbow, he pulled her along. Not until they had reached the fence safely did they look back.

  In the upper window of the Hawkins’ house a light continued to burn dimly.

  “We’re still being watched,” Salt commented. He helped Penny over the fence, disentangling her dress which snagged on a wire. “Whew! That was a close call! That old biddy would have enjoyed putting a bullet through us!”

  “She dared to say Louise’s dog hadn’t been seen! All the while her husband stood right there! He’s the one who refused to let us go after Bones this afternoon!”

  “Sure?”

  “Almost positive.”

  “Well, all I can say is the Hawkins’ are mean customers,”Salt sighed. “Stealing a dog probably is right in their line.”

  “They’re u
p to other tricks too!”

  “Oh, undoubtedly. Wish we could have learned what was in those cans they were trucking to the city.”

  In the press car, speeding toward Riverview, the pair discussed all phases of their night’s adventure. Failure to learn anything about Jerry’s whereabouts worried them.

  Presently, worn out, Penny slumped against Salt’s shoulder and fell asleep. She was awakened when the car stopped with a jerk.

  “Where are we?” she mumbled drowsily. “Home?”

  “Not yet, baby,” he answered, shutting off the engine.

  Penny straightened in the seat, brushing away a lock of hair which had tumbled over her left eye. Peering through the window she saw that they still were out in the country.

  “What are we stopping here for, Salt?” she asked in astonishment. “Don’t tell me we’ve run out of gas!”

  “Nothing like that,” he said easily. “Just go back to sleep. I’ll be right back.”

  “You’ll be right back! Where are you going, Salt Sommers?”

  “Only down the road a ways. We passed a car, and I want to have a better look at it.”

  By now Penny was fully awake.

  “I’m going with you,” she announced.

  Salt held the door open for her. “This probably is a waste of time,” he admitted.

  “Was it a car you saw in the ditch?” Penny questioned, walking fast to keep up with him. “An accident?”

  “Don’t think so. The car seemed to be parked back in the bushes on a road bisecting this one.”

  “What’s so unusual in that?”

  “Nothing perhaps. Only the car looked familiar.”

  “Not Jerry’s coupe?”

  “No. There it is now—see!” Salt pointed through the trees to an old upright vehicle of antiquated style. His flashlight picked up the numbers on the rear license plate.

  “K-4687!” Penny read aloud. “Mrs. Jones’ stolen auto!”

  “It sure is,” the photographer agreed in satisfaction. “Abandoned!”

  “By whom? The Hawkins’ boys?”

  “Maybe. Let’s have a closer look.”

  While Penny stood by, Salt made a thorough inspection of the old car. The battery was dead. Ignition keys, still in the lock, had been left turned on.