The Penny Parker Megapack: 15 Complete Novels

by Mildred Benson

  “Julia, you must know everyone who lives here in the dormitory rooms,” she began. “Do you often see a girl about my age?”

  A strange light flickered for a moment in the old woman’s watery gray eyes, then died. She merely stared at Penny.

  “No soap!” commented Louise. “Let’s get out of here.”

  Penny, however, was persistent.

  “Julia, you must have seen her—a girl like me,” she emphasized. “Does she sleep here?”

  “Sleep—sleep—” the word seemingly had aroused an unpleasant chain of thought in the old woman’s twisted mind.

  “Where is the girl’s room?” Penny probed.

  Julia did not act as if she had heard the question. She was mumbling to herself, a look of horror upon her face.

  “What’s she saying?” Louise demanded, unable to catch a word.

  Penny bent closer. Distinctly she heard the old woman mutter: “The canopied bed! In the chapel room—”

  Then old Julia stiffened and she flattened herself against the wall of the passageway, her eyes wide with fear.

  Directly ahead, in the doorway opening onto the cloister, stood Father Benedict.

  CHAPTER 14

  AN ASSIGNMENT FOR PENNY

  Father Benedict’s face was as expressionless as a marble statue, but his dark eyes smoldered with anger.

  Ignoring Penny and Louise for the moment, he fixed the cringing Julia with stern gaze.

  “Did I not order you to remain in the kitchen?” he demanded. His voice was low, almost purring. Nevertheless, the woman acted as if she had been lashed with a whip.

  Mumbling unintelligibly, she scurried off down the covered passageway along the side of the cloister, and disappeared through another doorway.

  “Please, it wasn’t Julia’s fault that she was here,” said Penny, feeling sorry for the unfortunate woman. “Louise and I called for help and she came to assist us.”

  “Yes, we were locked in the study,” added Louise. “If she hadn’t come to our rescue, we would have been there yet.”

  “Do I understand you to say you were locked in?” asked the monk, his shaggy eyebrows lifting in astonishment. “The door sticks sometimes.”

  “It was locked,” interposed Penny quietly. “We tried several times to open it. Julia finally let us out with a key.”

  Having divulged this bit of information, she immediately regretted it. A shadow passed over the monk’s countenance.

  “A key?” he repeated. “How would Julia know—”Breaking off, he smiled and completed: “The locks here are very old and sadly in need of repair. I must have a locksmith in immediately.”

  Father Benedict fixed his gaze upon one of the twisted, weather-stained columns of the cloister, for the moment seeming to forget the girls. Becoming a little uncomfortable, they edged toward the exit.

  “We’ll be going now,” said Penny to remind him of their presence. “That is, unless you’ll permit us to witness the cult ceremony.”

  “The main hall has not yet been prepared,” Father Benedict replied quickly. “We have postponed the ceremony until later tonight.”

  “Perhaps we could return then.”

  “It would be highly inadvisable.” Father Benedict’s deep frown plainly showed that he was becoming irritated. “The members of our sect are sensitive to visitors. I regret onlookers are not as yet welcome.”

  That’s telling me in a nice way to mind my own business, thought Penny. Aloud she said: “I see. Well, later on, perhaps.”

  Politely, Father Benedict escorted the girls through the cloister. Penny noted that much of the dirt and debris had been swept away. A beautifully carved stone stairway, which she had failed to notice upon her previous visit, led up to a narrow balcony.

  Observing that many doors opened from it, she inquired if the dormitories were above.

  “They are,” the monk replied in a brief tone which discouraged further questions.

  “It’s so still in here,” remarked Louise as they walked on. “One never would dream many people are staying in the building.”

  “We lead a quiet life,” the monk explained. “For the most part, my people spend their time reading or in meditation and prayer.”

  The three now had reached the front door, and Penny thought she detected an expression of relief upon Father Benedict’s face as he opened it for them.

  “By the way,” she remarked, “was anything seriously wrong in the cellar?”

  “Oh, no! Nothing at all! Merely a leaking pipe. A plumber will take care of it. Thank you, and good afternoon.”

  With no show of haste, but very firmly, the monk closed the door in their faces.

  “Well, how do you like that!” Penny muttered. “I never received a smoother brush-off!”

  Snow was melting fast and running in rivers down the brick walk as the girls sauntered toward the gate. Winkey was nowhere to be seen, but knowing he might be close by, they were careful not to discuss Father Benedict until they were well beyond the property boundaries.

  “Well, I guess this puts an end to your visits here,” remarked Louise as they walked toward the parked car. “Father Benedict seems determined not to let you witness one of the cult ceremonies.”

  “Which makes me all the more determined to see one!”

  “I have a hunch he’ll turn you away if you call at the monastery again. Why don’t you forget the place, Penny?”

  “I should say not! I have an idea—it just came to me!”

  “I suppose you’ll sneak back at night or something equally as dramatic,” teased Louise.

  Penny plucked an icicle from a roadside bush, nibbling at it thoughtfully as she replied: “Only as a last resort. No, I’ll drop in at the newspaper office and get Mr. DeWitt, the city editor, to assign me to do a feature story on the ceremony tonight. If I officially represent the Riverview Star, Father Benedict can’t so easily turn me away.”

  The girls had reached the car. Stowing their skiing equipment, they motored rapidly toward the city.

  “What did you think of Old Julia?” Penny inquired as they neared Louise’s home. “Especially her remark about the canopied bed in the chapel?”

  “Whoever heard of a bed of any kind in a chapel?”Louise scoffed. “She’s dizzy, that’s all.”

  “From a map Mr. Eckenrod showed me, I know the chapel is just off the cloister above the crypt,” Penny recalled, switching on the windshield wiper to clear the glass of melting snow. “I suppose it could have been converted into a bedroom.”

  “I don’t think her remark meant a thing. She mumbles most of the time.”

  “True, but the thing I noticed was that she seemed so afraid of Father Benedict. Do you suppose he abuses her?”

  “Oh, Penny! A man of his calling?”

  “He’s not a real monk. Apparently this cult is only an order that has been in existence a short time. Father Benedict doesn’t impress me as a very religious man. Furthermore, all that crystal-glass-gazing business leads me to think he’s more of a charlatan than anything else!”

  “Do you think he runs the place to get money?”

  “I’m wondering, that’s all. We know he accepts very liberal contributions from his converts. Where does the money go?”

  “If I were certain he locked us in that room today, I’d believe the worst!” Louise declared as the car stopped in front of the Sidell home. Opening the door to alight, she added: “He put up a good story though. I guess it must have been an accident.”

  Penny made no reply.

  “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow,” Louise bade her goodbye. “If you arrange to see one of the cult ceremonies, be sure to let me know.”

  The afternoon now was late. Penny drove to theRiverview Star building. Girls who worked in the downstairs business office were leaving for the day, but upstairs the editorial staff was just swinging into action for a busy night.

  At the city editor’s desk a short wave radio blared routine police calls. Editor DeWitt, an eyes
hade pulled low over his eyes, scowled as he rapidly scanned copy.

  Seeing Penny, he looked up and smiled, which was the signal for her to explain the purpose of her call.

  Going straight to the point, she asked to be assigned a feature story on the cult ceremony that night in the monastery.

  “Think you can get it?” he demanded gruffly.

  “Why not?”

  “Two of our reporters already have failed. The high monkey-monk out there won’t allow any of our men in the building.”

  “Then you’d like a story?”

  “Sure. We’re interested in what’s going on out there.” Mr. DeWitt slashed a page of corrected copy in half with his long scissors. He dropped one section onto the floor and the other into the copy basket. “Learn anything worth while out there today?”

  “Nothing worthy of print. If you’ll assign me to the story I’ll go back tonight. I think I can get inside again.”

  “Okay, give me a ring if you run into anything interesting. Your father know you’re going?”

  “Well, I haven’t told him yet.”

  “Be sure you do,” said Mr. DeWitt, looking her straight in the eyes. “I don’t want to find myself sitting behind the eight ball!”

  “Oh, I’ll let Dad know,” Penny assured him hastily. “I’ll do it now.”

  However, her father was in conference, so after waiting around the office a little while, she decided to talk the matter over with him when he came home for dinner.

  In the elevator, leaving the office, Penny ran into Jerry Livingston. Hearing of the assignment, he looked a little worried.

  “Think you ought to go out to the monastery alone at night?” he inquired.

  “I don’t see why not, Jerry.”

  “I’ve not met Father Benedict myself,” Jerry said,“but one of our reporters who was out there yesterday, didn’t like his appearance. I’ll bet a cent your father refuses to let you go.”

  “I hope not,” Penny said anxiously. “I’ll put up a big argument.”

  “What time you leaving?” Jerry asked as the elevator let them out on the main floor.

  “Early. Maybe around seven o’clock.”

  “Well, good luck,” Jerry said. “I suppose it’s all right, or DeWitt wouldn’t have given you the assignment.”

  Parting company with the reporter, Penny stopped briefly at the Riverview Hotel to inquire if Mr. Ayling had returned from Chicago. He had not checked in.

  “Queer he doesn’t come after sending that telegram,” she thought. “I wonder what’s delaying him?”

  Arriving home a few minutes later, Penny heard the sound of pounding as she entered the kitchen. Mrs. Weems was scraping carrots at the sink.

  “Did you have a good time skiing?” the housekeeper inquired.

  “Fair.” Penny stripped off her mittens and hung them on a radiator. “Snow’s melting fast today. What’s that awful pounding?”

  “Jake Cotton finally came. He’s building the bookcases in your father’s study.”

  “Oh, yes,” recalled Penny. “I thought from the sound the place was being torn down!”

  After removing her heavy ski suit and putting her skiing equipment away, the girl wandered into the study.

  Jake Cotton, a short, wiry old man, was gathering up his tools preparatory to leaving. Boards of various length were strewn over the carpet.

  “Well, reckon I’ll call it a day,” he remarked. “It’ll take me all tomorrow to finish the job. That is, if I can arrange to get back.”

  “You have another job?” Penny inquired.

  “I’ve been doing a little work for them folks that moved into the monastery,” the carpenter explained. “The man that owns the place pays well, but he’s mighty fussy. Wants the work done the minute he says!”

  “I suppose a great deal should be done out there, the building is so old.”

  “It’s a wreck!” Jake Cotton said, picking up his tool kit. “A dozen workmen couldn’t put it in liveable shape in two weeks! They want such trivial things done too, while they let more important repairs wait.”

  “For instance?”

  “Well, the first job the monks had me do was fix the old freight lift into the cellar!”

  “I didn’t know the building had one,” said Penny in surprise. “Is it on the first floor?”

  “In the old chapel room off the cloister,” Jake explained. “Least, that’s what I took it to be. They’re using it for a bedroom now. I ask you, what would any sensible person want with a freight lift in a bedroom?”

  “It does seem unusual. Why was it originally installed in the chapel?”

  “I heard it was done when the building was built,”Mr. Cotton told her. “Years ago, they had burial services in the chapel, and caskets were lowered to the crypt below.”

  “How does the lift operate?”

  “It’s just a section of flooring that lowers when the machinery is turned on,” the carpenter explained. “With a carpet over the boards, you wouldn’t know it was there.”

  “And for what purpose is it to be used now?”

  Mr. Cotton had started for the doorway. Penny trailed him to the front porch, eager to learn more.

  “I couldn’t figure out what the new owners aim to do with the lift,” the carpenter replied, pausing on the steps. “Reckon they’ll use it to lower heavy luggage and maybe unwanted furniture into the basement for storage.”

  “Did you see the crypt?”

  “Didn’t get down there. The monk had his own man, a hunchback, oil up the machinery and put it in working order. I only repaired the flooring.”

  “So the room is used as a bedroom now?”

  “Looked that way to me. Leastwise, I saw a big bed in there. One of them old fashioned contraptions with a lot of dust-catching draperies over it.”

  “Not a canopied bed!”

  “Reckon it was,” Mr. Cotton answered carelessly. “Well, see you tomorrow if I’m not called back to the monastery to do another rush job! So long!”

  Before the startled Penny could ask another question, he hurried off down the darkening street.

  CHAPTER 15

  FOOTPRINTS IN THE SNOW

  Jake Cotton’s careless remark about the canopied bed at the monastery filled Penny with deep excitement.

  “Perhaps Old Julia isn’t as crazy as she seems!” she thought. “The place does have a canopied bed, and she may have been trying to tell me something about it!”

  Now more than ever, Penny was determined to revisit the monastery that night. Many unanswered questions plagued her. Not only was she curious to witness a cult ceremony, but also she wished to learn the identity of the strange girl who lived on the premises. And she hoped to view the chapel room with the freight lift and if possible, to see the canopied bed of which Old Julia had prattled so unintelligibly.

  Hastening into the house, Penny sought Mrs. Weems in the kitchen.

  “Anything I can do to help with dinner?” she inquired.

  The housekeeper, in the act of putting a kettle of potatoes on the fire to boil, eyed her with instant suspicion.

  “And where do you plan to go when dinner is over, may I ask?” she inquired.

  “Only out to the monastery.”

  “Again! You came from there not a half hour ago!”

  “Oh, Mr. DeWitt assigned me to cover a cult meeting tonight,” Penny assured her hastily.

  “And your father approves?”

  “Haven’t seen him yet. He ought to be coming home any minute now.”

  “Your father telephoned he will be detained,” Mrs. Weems explained. “I doubt he’ll be home before nine o’clock. So the monastery expedition is out of the question!”

  “Oh, Mrs. Weems!” Penny was aghast. “I promised Mr. DeWitt! He’s depending on the story.”

  “That’s neither here nor there,” the housekeeper replied, though she softened a little. “I simply can’t allow you to go to the monastery alone at night—”

  “Oh
, I’ll start right away—just as soon as I can grab a bite of dinner,” Penny broke in eagerly. “If Father Benedict refuses me permission to see the ceremony, then I can come back.”

  “You can, but will you?”

  “Eventually, at least,” Penny grinned. “Oh, Mrs. Weems, have a heart! Can’t I telephone Dad somewhere?”

  The housekeeper shook her head. “He’s in an important meeting and can’t be disturbed until it’s over.”

  “But you will let me go? I won’t be gone long.”

  “Oh, I suppose I’ll have to give in,” Mrs. Weems sighed. “I usually do. I’ll hurry dinner along so you can get back early.”

  While the housekeeper fried pork chops, Penny set the table and prepared a salad. When the meal was ready she ate with a haste that shocked Mrs. Weems.

  “I declare, your table manners become worse every day!” she protested. “Your mind isn’t on what you are doing.”

  “It’s on what I’m about to do!” Penny chuckled, getting up from the table. “I don’t want any dessert tonight. See you later!”

  Donning a heavy coat and slipping a flashlight into one of the deep pockets, she left the house.

  The night was dark, for as yet there was no moon. Penny drove rapidly through Riverview and along the lonely road which led to the monastery.

  Despite the speed of her car, she soon noted that another automobile was overtaking her. The girl pressed her foot a little more firmly on the gasoline pedal, but still the other car gained.

  She was driving forty-five miles an hour when the big black car passed her traveling at least sixty. On the narrow road, Penny was crowded dangerously close to the ditch.

  “The nerve of some people!” she muttered in disgust. “No wonder there are so many highway accidents!”

  Penny caught only a fleeting glimpse of the black car’s driver, a man hunched low over the steering wheel.

  “Why, that looked like Winkey!” she thought. “And another man was with him in the front seat! I wonder if it was Father Benedict?”

  Penny speeded up but found it impossible to keep the car in view. When she skidded at a curve, she wisely slowed down and abandoned the chase.

  Approaching the monastery ten minutes later, the girl decided to park a short distance from the entrance gate. She left the car at the roadside beyond view of the gatehouse, and tramped on through the slush and snow.