The Girl Detective Megapack: 25 Classic Mystery Novels for Girls

by Mildred A. Wirt

  “I’ll drive directly to Dad’s office and see if he can make use of any of these old pieces,” she decided.

  Although the errand provided an excellent excuse, the real purpose of her call was to learn if Jerry Barrows had kept his appointment.

  Mr. Nichols was busy in the inner office when Penny arrived, but Miss Arrow, the efficient secretary, told her that she might go in. She found the detective engrossed in studying a group of photographs and their accompanying Bertillon records.

  “Trying to brush up on who’s out and why?” Penny asked banteringly.

  Mr. Nichols nodded as he offered a photograph for her inspection.

  “This is one of the men who I think may be involved in the automobile accessory thefts.”

  “Not a very pretty face,” Penny commented.

  “No, and ‘Rap’ Molberg hasn’t a very pretty record either. He’s served several terms in the pen, though usually he’s a little too smart to have anything proven against him. Rap is the ringleader of the well known Molberg gang. It begins to look as if the outfit had extended its activities to Belton City.”

  “Is this Rap’s description?” Penny inquired, indicating the Bertillon record which lay upon the desk. It consisted of a bewildering array of figures.

  1.67.6 1.74.0 88.1 19.0 14-5

  HGT OA TR HL HW

  “Can you decipher it?” Mr. Nichols smiled.

  “I know the HGT stands for height and TR for trunk, but what are the other abbreviations?”

  “OA means outer arm,” the detective explained. “HL represents head length and HW indicates the head width. Of course all the measurements are reduced to meters, centimeters, and millimeters.”

  “It looks complicated.”

  “Not after you become accustomed to it. For instance, I can see at a glance that Rap Molberg is five feet and seven-eighths inches tall—or as it appears in Bertillon—one meter, sixty-seven centimeters and six millimeters.”

  “I don’t believe I’ll ever care to be a detective,” Penny smiled. “It’s too much like studying the multiplication table!”

  “Crime detection is a scientific profession—” Mr. Nichols began, but Penny cut him short.

  “Tell me, did Jerry Barrows come to interview you this morning?”

  “No, and I very much fear we’ll never see the young man. I made a point of looking up his juvenile court record and find he has none.”

  “Then he must have given me a false name.”

  “I suspect he did, Penny.”

  “I guess it was silly of me to trust him. I didn’t exactly believe his story at the time, and yet he seemed like a rather decent sort too.”

  “I’d not worry about it any more,” Mr. Nichols said kindly.

  “I’m afraid I’ve just done another foolish thing too,” Penny declared. She then told him about the severed wheel rack.

  “Why, I’d like to examine those pieces of metal,” the detective said with interest. “What did you do with them?”

  “They’re in the roadster. I parked the car in front of the office.”

  “Then I’ll just go down and get them,” Mr. Nichols decided. “I should have inspected the car more carefully last night but I was in a hurry. Wait here and I’ll be back in a minute.”

  During her father’s absence, Penny amused herself by looking through some of the books on his desk. There were several weighty volumes devoted to criminology and law. She found them dull and turned with more interest to the photograph of Rap Molberg.

  He had the appearance of a typical man from the underworld. His eyes were hard and glaring; there were sullen, cruel lines about his mouth. The only unusual mark of identification was a long jagged scar across his left cheek.

  In the outside office, a telephone rang. Penny heard Miss Arrow answer the call. Apparently, the secretary was unaware that Mr. Nichols had stepped from the office, for she said:

  “Just a minute, please. I will connect you with him.”

  An instant later the telephone at Penny’s elbow jangled.

  She took the receiver from its hook intending to explain to the caller that Mr. Nichols had left the office. Before she could speak, a cold, precise masculine voice came to her over the wire.

  “Just a little warning, Mr. Nichols!” the words clipped into her ear. “Lay off the Molberg gang or else—”

  Penny heard a receiver click. The wire had gone dead.

  CHAPTER IV

  The Molberg Gang

  Penny signaled frantically for the operator’s attention. It seemed minutes before the telephone girl responded mechanically: “Number please.”

  “I was disconnected with my party,” Penny informed tensely. “See if you can trace the call. It is very important.”

  “Just a minute please.”

  There was another long wait, then the telephone operator informed Penny that the call could not be traced. It had been made from a pay station.

  Mr. Nichols entered the office just as Penny hung up the phone.

  “Anything wrong?” he asked quickly, noticing the expression on her face.

  Penny repeated the warning message.

  “Well, it looks as if I’m on the right trail,” Mr. Nichols declared, not in the least disturbed. “I’d have preferred that the Molberg gang hadn’t learned I was shadowing them, but such news travels fast through underground channels.”

  “I’m afraid some of those dreadful men may harm you,” Penny said anxiously. “Promise me you’ll be careful.”

  “I am always careful, my dear, but I refuse to go around wearing a bullet proof vest. This isn’t the first warning telephone call I’ve received.”

  “I suppose not,” Penny sighed. “But I should think that if the members of the Molberg gang know you have been assigned to the case, it would be hard to secure evidence against them.”

  “It won’t be easy,” the detective agreed. “However, I flatter myself that I have a few trained investigators whose activities will never be suspected.”

  “You mean they mingle with underworld characters and try to gain their confidence?”

  “Yes, that’s the usual plan. When I locate Rap Molberg I’ll have him constantly shadowed.”

  “I’ve never seen many of your assistants around the office,” Penny remarked.

  “Naturally not,” Mr. Nichols smiled. “If they came here to report, every crook in Belton City would be aware of it within an hour.”

  “Then how do you keep in touch with your men?” Penny asked curiously.

  “There are a few secrets which I must keep to myself. Aren’t you taking a rather sudden interest in my work, Penny?”

  “Perhaps I am. Since my car wheels were stolen I feel personally concerned in the case. I wish I could do something to help.”

  Mr. Nichols became grave. “There is nothing you can do, Penny. The last thing in the world that I could wish would be to have you involved in the case. In fact I’ve been worried for fear—”

  “For fear of what?” Penny demanded as her father checked himself.

  “I’ve been afraid that the Molberg gang might attempt to strike at me through you. Until this case is finished you must be very careful.”

  “I’ll be careful, although even for you I refuse to go around wearing a bullet proof vest,” Penny grinned, paraphrasing his previous words. “Anyway, it might be exciting to be kidnapped.”

  “If you talk like that I see I must assign someone to keep watch over you.”

  “It won’t be necessary,” Penny assured him hastily. “I promise to stop, look and listen before I make any rash moves.”

  As if to demonstrate, she tiptoed to the door, opened it cautiously, peered forth at Miss Arrow who was busy at her typewriter, and then with a casual “goodbye” flung over her shoulder, was gone.

  The following week was an uneventful one in the Nichols household. As was usually the way when Mr. Nichols became involved in an important case, meals were served at odd hours and often the detective did
not come home at all for lunch or dinner. Penny complained that she never saw her father. Certainly she heard very little concerning the work he was doing for the insurance company.

  On a Wednesday afternoon she was in the back yard washing her roadster with the garden hose when Susan Altman came running up to relate a bit of news.

  “Penny, the most wonderful thing has happened!”

  “What?”

  “I’m to have a car for my birthday present!”

  “Not really!”

  “Yes, I am. I’ve been saving money for two years, but I never made much headway. Father always thought I was too young to have a car too until this summer.”

  “What made him change his mind?”

  “Mother, I guess. You see she has to have the family car a great deal, but nothing would induce her to drive it herself. I’m to have the new automobile as my very own providing I take Mother wherever she wishes to go.”

  “That should be an easy condition to meet,” Penny smiled. “What kind of car are you going to get?”

  “I don’t know yet. I thought perhaps you’d help me select it.”

  “I’d love to. After running this old bus for nearly three years I consider myself quite an authority on cars.”

  “I can buy any low priced model I wish,” Susan went on enthusiastically. “What color shall I get?”

  “One that doesn’t show the dirt,” Penny advised promptly as she coiled up the hose and put it away. “It seems to me that I spend half my time trying to keep this animal of mine presentable.”

  “I thought I might like blue,” Susan ventured. “I don’t suppose you’d have time to go with me now and look at a few models, would you?”

  “Of course I’ll go! Wait until I change into more presentable clothes.”

  Penny darted into the house, returning in a few minutes.

  “Where are you going to buy your car?” she questioned.

  “Father told me to go to the Brunner garage on Second Street.”

  “I’ll drive you there in the roadster,” Penny offered.

  At the Brunner salesrooms a few minutes later the girls were greeted by the manager, George Brunner. He was a tall, thin man with sharp black eyes. When he spoke to his employees his manner was overbearing and haughty, but in the presence of the two girls he beamed and smiled and hung upon their words. He talked glibly as he piloted them from one shiny new car to another.

  Presently Susan found herself hypnotized by a blue coupé. After Mr. Brunner had taken the girls a ride in a similar model, she whispered to Penny that she thought she would buy the car.

  “Why don’t you look around at a few other places first,” Penny suggested. “You might make a better deal.”

  “I’m afraid to wait for fear Father will change his mind. Besides, this is exactly the type of car I like.”

  Penny refrained from saying more, but she was sorry that her chum seemed determined to make such a hasty transaction. For some reason she had taken an instant dislike to George Brunner. Susan, however, noticed nothing amiss in his manner and listened spellbound as he talked glowingly of the little blue coupé.

  “I think I’ll take it,” Susan decided hesitatingly. “Could I drive it away?”

  “Certainly,” the manager beamed, steering her gently toward the inner office. “Just step inside and we’ll fill out the necessary papers.”

  Almost before she was fully aware of what she was doing, Susan had written a check in payment for the car and had signed the usual legal papers.

  “Do you think I’ve made an awful mistake?” she asked Penny nervously while they sat waiting for the car to be serviced.

  “It’s a beautiful model, Susan. And if it operates even half as well as Mr. Brunner claimed, it should be a wonderful bargain.”

  “You didn’t like that man very well, did you?”

  “No,” Penny responded shortly.

  “The Brunner garage is supposed to be one of the best in Belton City.”

  “I know it is. I haven’t a thing against Mr. Brunner except that I don’t care for his manners.”

  The discussion ended for the manager had returned to announce that the new car was ready to leave the garage.

  “I am sure you will find it perfectly satisfactory, Miss Altman,” he beamed. “But in the event that anything should go wrong don’t hesitate to call upon us.”

  “I’ll remember that,” Susan said.

  With Penny beside her to offer advice, she drove the coupé from the garage. Turning out into Second Street she narrowly missed being struck by a truck which was traveling at a high rate of speed.

  “Better get out into the country until you’ve had an opportunity to become accustomed to handling the car,” Penny suggested.

  “That’s a good idea,” Susan agreed. “I don’t want to wreck the thing before I drive it home.”

  After an hour of straight driving on a deserted road, she became quite dexterous at operating the gears. When she felt entirely confident of her ability to handle the car in any emergency, the girls drove back into the city. They parted at the Brunner garage where Penny had left her own roadster.

  “Thanks for helping me select the car,” Susan told her chum gratefully.

  “I didn’t have much to do with it,” Penny smiled. “But it’s a fine looking automobile. I wish I had one half as nice.”

  “I’ll let you drive mine whenever you like,” Susan offered generously.

  When Penny reached home it was nearly dinner time. Mrs. Gallup was busy in the immaculate green and white kitchen, frosting an angel food cake.

  “Any mail for me this afternoon?” Penny inquired, pausing to scrape up a generous spoonful of fudge from the frosting pan.

  “I declare, I’ve been too busy all day to even think of the mail.”

  “I’ll look.”

  Penny went to the box at the front door. There were three letters. Two for Mr. Nichols and one for herself. The latter was addressed in pencil on a cheap yellow envelope.

  “Wonder who it’s from?” she thought with interest.

  Quickly, she ripped open the envelope, glancing at the signature which had been signed at the bottom of the brief note.

  “Jerry Barrows!” she exclaimed.

  Eagerly she read the message.

  “Sorry I couldn’t keep the appointment with Mr. Nichols,” the boy had written. “Tell your father to be on guard. His life is in danger.”

  CHAPTER V

  Penny Turns Sleuth

  Mr. Nichols did not have a great deal to say regarding the note which Penny read to him later that evening at the dinner table.

  “Don’t let it worry you,” he advised. “Just put it away for future reference and forget about it.”

  “Future reference?”

  “Yes, it’s always wise to keep such communications. One never knows when a sample of handwriting might prove useful.”

  “I’m sure Jerry Barrows must have some good qualities or he’d never have sent the message. Don’t you think so, Dad?”

  “Perhaps. It’s obvious the boy was afraid to talk with me.”

  “But why should he warn you that your life is in danger? Do you think he could know anything concerning the Molberg gang?”

  “It isn’t likely, but he may have some underworld connection.”

  “I’m getting more nervous every day,” Penny declared. “I’ll never feel very easy until all the members of that gang are captured.”

  “It may be a more difficult task than I at first believed,” her father remarked, frowning. “I know that Rap Molberg is hiding somewhere in the city but so far none of my investigators have been able to trace him.”

  “Perhaps he’s through causing trouble,” Penny said hopefully.

  “He’ll make enough when the time comes.”

  “I’ve not heard of any automobile thefts or anything of the sort for several days.”

  “That’s just it. Things have been altogether too quiet. It’s like a lull bef
ore the storm. A bad sign.”

  Mr. Nichols abruptly left the table. He walked to the door, then came back.

  “I must go downtown again this evening, Penny,” he said regretfully. “I’ll leave the telephone number of my new office in the event you should need to reach me. It isn’t listed in the ‘phone book,’ of course.”

  “Your new office?” Penny demanded. “What became of your old one, may I ask?”

  “It’s still there,” Mr. Nichols smiled. “Miss Arrow has assumed charge, and I’ve taken up temporary quarters on the tenth floor of the Atler building.”

  “Isn’t that almost directly across from the Brunner garage?”

  “Yes, it’s located in the downtown theater district. The bulk of the auto accessory thefts have taken place in this relatively small area. From the window of my new office I secure a bird’s eye view of all that goes on in nearby streets.”

  “Surely you don’t expect to catch the thieves in the act of stealing automobile wheels!” Penny marveled.

  “It will be the surest way of gaining a conviction. If a professional crook isn’t captured at the scene of his crime, he usually is clever enough to cover his tracks completely. An amateur is seldom so skillful in obliterating clues.”

  “May I visit this new office of yours?” Penny asked.

  “Yes, if you use discretion and don’t come too often. I have taken the office under an assumed name—John Bradford. I shouldn’t care to have my real name known for awhile.”

  “I’ll be very discreet if I come,” Penny promised.

  Her father turned to leave.

  “It must be dull for you here alone at night,” he said apologetically. “Why don’t you take Susan to a picture show?”

  “I think I’ll do that,” Penny agreed.

  After Mr. Nichols had left the house, she telephoned Susan. Mrs. Altman answered the call, informing her that her daughter was spending the evening at the home of an aunt.

  “I may as well go to the show alone,” Penny decided.

  One of her favorite movie stars was showing at a neighborhood theater only a few blocks from the Nichols home. Penny walked the short distance. She thoroughly enjoyed the picture, remaining to see part of it twice. It was a little after nine o’clock when she left the theater.