The Penny Parker Megapack: 15 Complete Novels (135 page)

“A tall, lean man in a gray suit?” Penny asked quickly.

“Yes. He had a leather case in his hand.”

“Then it was my father!” Penny cried. “How badly was he hurt?”

“Oh, he could walk all right,” the boy replied. “He seemed kinda dazed though.”

Greatly relieved to learn that her father had escaped serious injury, Penny sought more information. The boy who had witnessed the accident, told her that the car which had caused the smash-up, was a blue sedan.

“Two men were in it,” he revealed. “They started to go around your father’s car and crowded him toward the curb. Next thing I saw, he’d plowed into the lamp post.”

“The other car didn’t stop?”

“I’ll say it didn’t! You should have seen ’em go!”

“Didn’t you notice the license number?” Penny asked hopefully.

The boy shook his head.

Having learned all she could from him, Penny questioned other persons. Only one woman in the crowd was able to provide additional information. Her eye-witness account differed slightly from the boy’s, but she confirmed that a middle-aged woman in a black coupe had taken the accident victim to a hospital.

“Which hospital?” asked Penny.

The woman could not tell her. She did say, however, that the accident victim seemingly had suffered only minor scratches.

A police car drove up. Penny, frantic to find her father, did not wish to be delayed by questions. Without revealing who she was to members of the investigation squad, she hailed a taxi. Mercy Hospital was only a few blocks away. It seemed reasonable that her father would be taken there for treatment.

A few minutes later, standing anxiously at the information desk of that institution, she learned that Mr. Parker had not been admitted as a patient. The nurse in charge, noting the girl’s agitation, kindly offered to telephone other hospitals. After six calls, she reported that she was unable to trace the accident victim.

“Are you sure that your father sought hospital treatment?” she asked Penny.

“Perhaps not. Dad wasn’t badly hurt according to witnesses. He may have gone elsewhere.”

Thanking the nurse for her help, Penny taxied swiftly home. Mrs. Weems, in an old coat and a turban, was pouring salt on the icy sidewalk in front of the house. From the look on her face it was evident she had not heard the news.

“Mrs. Weems, Dad’s been hurt!” Penny cried, leaping from the cab. “In an auto accident!”

“My land!” the housekeeper gasped and allowed the bag of salt to fall from her gloved hand. “How bad is it?”

“I think he was more stunned than anything else. But I’ve not been able to learn where he was taken. He didn’t telephone here?”

“Not unless it was since I’ve been outdoors.”

Picking up the bag of salt, Mrs. Weems followed Penny into the house. Without removing coat or hat, the girl dialed the
Star
office. Editor DeWitt answered.

“Has Dad arrived there?” Penny asked abruptly.

“No, he hasn’t returned. Anything wrong?”

Tersely Penny revealed what had occurred. The news shocked the editor for he bore Mr. Parker a genuine affection.

“Now don’t you worry,” he tried to cheer her. “Your father can’t be badly hurt or he never would have walked away from that accident. Just sit tight and our reporters will locate him for you.”

During the next hour Penny and Mrs. Weems remained near the telephone. Each moment they waited, their anxiety increased. Mr. DeWitt did not phone. There was no word from the police station. They refused to believe that Mr. Parker had been seriously injured, yet it seemed strange he could not be found.

“It’s not like him to allow anyone to worry,” declared the housekeeper. “I simply can’t understand why he doesn’t call to relieve our minds.”

Just then the telephone bell jingled. Penny snatched the receiver from its hook.

“DeWitt speaking,” said the familiar voice of the editor.

“Any news?” Penny asked quickly. “Did you find Dad?”

“So far we haven’t,” the editor confessed. “I’ve personally called the police station, every hospital and private nursing home in Riverview.”

“Dad may have gone to a doctor’s office for treatment.”

“I thought of that,” replied DeWitt. “We’ve checked all the likely ones.”

“What could have become of him?” Penny asked desperately. “Mrs. Weems and I are dreadfully worried.”

“Oh, he’ll show up any minute,” comforted Mr. DeWitt. “Probably he doesn’t realize anyone is looking for him.”

Penny asked the editor if he had learned the identity of the hit-skip driver.

“No one took down the license number of the car,”Mr. DeWitt returned regretfully. “Our reporters are still working on the story though.”

“The story,” murmured Penny faintly. For the first time it occurred to her that her father’s accident and subsequent disappearance would be regarded as front page news.

“I don’t expect to run an account of the accident until I’ve talked to your father,” DeWitt said hastily. “Now don’t worry about anything. I’ll let you know the minute I have any news.”

Penny hung up the receiver and reported the conversation to Mrs. Weems. A clock on the mantel chimed one-thirty, reminding the housekeeper that lunch had not been prepared.

“No food for me,” pleaded Penny. “I don’t feel like eating.”

“I’ve rather lost my own appetite,” confessed the housekeeper. “However, it’s foolish of us to worry. Your father must be safe. No doubt he had an appointment.”

Penny’s face brightened. “Why, of course!” she exclaimed. “Don’t know why I’ve been so dumb! Dad may still be in conference with Prosecutor Gilmore! I’ll call there.”

Darting to the telephone, she waited patiently until she was connected with the State prosecutor’s office. The lawyer himself talked to her.

“Why, no, Mr. Parker hasn’t been here,” he replied to her eager inquiry. “I expected him at ten-thirty. Then he telephoned that he had been delayed and would see me at eleven-thirty. He failed to keep that appointment also.”

The information sent Penny’s hopes glimmering. She explained about the accident and listened to the Prosecutor’s expression of sympathy. Replacing the receiver, she turned once more to Mrs. Weems.

“I’m more worried than ever now,” she quavered. “Dad didn’t keep his appointment with Prosecutor Gilmore, and it was a vitally important one.”

“We’ll hear from him soon—”

“Perhaps we won’t.” Penny took a quick turn across the room.

“Why, such a thing to say! What do you mean, Penny?”

“Dad has enemies. Harley Schirr told me today that if any attempt was made to expose a certain gang of thieves, it would mean real trouble.”

“But your father has had no connection with such persons.”

“He and Jerry worked on a case together,” Penny explained. “Today at the time of the accident, Dad carried a brief case with all the evidence in it!”

“Even so, I fail to see—”

“According to the report, Dad’s car was practically forced off the road,” Penny added excitedly. “I think that auto crash was deliberately engineered! Don’t you understand, Mrs. Weems? He’s fallen into the clutches of his enemies!”

“Now, Penny,” soothed the housekeeper. “I’m sure we’re making far too much of the accident. We’ll soon hear from your father.”

“You’re saying that to comfort me, Mrs. Weems. Something dreadful has happened! I can
feel
it.”

Penny ceased pacing the floor and went to the hall closet for her hat and coat.

“Where are you going?” asked the housekeeper, her eyes troubled.

“To the newspaper office. If word comes, I want to be there to get it the very first minute.”

Mrs. Weems started to protest, then changed her mind. She merely said: “Telephone me the moment you have any news.”

A brisk walk to the
Star
office did much to restore Penny’s sagging courage. As she entered the newsroom, brushing snow from her coat, she saw a group of reporters gathered about Mr. DeWitt’s desk.

“News of Dad!” she thought, her pulse pounding.

Glimpsing Penny, the men at the desk began to scatter. They gazed at her in such a kind, sympathetic manner that she became frightened again.

“What is it, Mr. DeWitt?” she asked the editor. “Has Dad been found?”

He shook his head.

“But you must have had some news,” she insisted, her gaze on a folded paper which he held. “Please don’t hide anything from me.”

“Very well,” DeWitt responded quietly. “We found this letter in your father’s waste-basket.”

Penny took the paper. Silently she read the message which had been typed in capital letters.

“MR. PARKER,” it warned, “THIS IS TO ADVISE YOU TO LAY OFF ON TIRE THEFT STORIES IN YOUR PAPER. UNLESS YOU CHANGE YOUR POLICY YOU MAY WAKE UP IN A DITCH.”

CHAPTER 7

QUESTIONS WITHOUT ANSWERS

“I’d rather not have shown that note to you,”Mr. DeWitt said quietly. “We found it only a moment ago.”

“How did it get in Dad’s waste-basket?” Penny asked. “Do you suppose he threw it there himself?”

“That’s my guess. Your father never paid any attention to unsigned letters.”

Penny reread the threatening note, trying not to show how much it disturbed her. “I wonder if this came by mail?” she remarked.

“We don’t know,” DeWitt replied. “There was no envelope in the basket.”

“Dad never mentioned such a note to me,” Penny resumed, frowning. “Probably thought I’d worry about it. This makes the situation look bad, doesn’t it, Mr. DeWitt?”

The editor weighed his words carefully before he spoke. “It doesn’t prove that your father was waylaid by enemies, Penny. Not at all. According to reports, Mr. Parker was involved in an ordinary automobile accident, and left the scene of his own free will.”

“With a woman who drove a black car.”

“Yes, according to eye-witnesses she offered to take him to a hospital for treatment.”

“What became of that woman?” demanded Penny. “Can’t the police find her?”

“Not so far.”

Before Penny could say more, Harley Schirr came to the desk, spreading a dummy sheet for the editor to inspect.

“Here’s the front-page layout,” he explained. “For the banner we’ll give ’em, ‘Anthony Parker Mysteriously Disappears,’ and beneath it, a double column story. I dug a good picture out of the morgue—the one with Parker dedicating the Riverview Orphans’Home.”

DeWitt frowned as he studied the layout. “Parker wouldn’t like this, Schirr. It’s too sensational. Bust that banner and cut the story down to the bare facts.”

“But this is a big story—”

“I’m expecting Mr. Parker to walk in here any minute,” retorted DeWitt. “A ‘disappearance’ spread would make the
Star
look silly.”

“Mr. Parker’s not going to show up!” Schirr refuted, his eyes blazing. “I say we should play the story for all it’s worth.”

“I’m sure Dad would hate sensationalism,” Penny said, siding with Mr. DeWitt.

The assistant editor turned to glare at her. Although he made no reply, she read anger and dislike in his flashing eyes.

“Cut the story down,” DeWitt ordered curtly. “And try to find a more suitable picture of Mr. Parker.”

Schirr swept the dummy sheet from the desk, crumpling it in his hand. As he started for the morgue where pictures were filed, he muttered to himself.

“Don’t know what’s got into that fellow lately,”DeWitt sighed.

The editor sat down rather heavily and Penny noticed that he looked tired and pale. For fifteen years he had been closely associated with Mr. Parker, regarding his chief with deep affection.

“Do you feel well, Mr. DeWitt?” she inquired.

“Not so hot,” he admitted, reaching for a pencil. “Lately I’ve been having a little pain in my side—it’s nothing though. Just getting old, that’s all.”

“Why not take the day off, Mr. DeWitt? You’ve been working too hard.”

“Now wouldn’t this be a fine time to go home?” the editor barked. “Hard work agrees with me.”

Reminded that she was keeping Mr. DeWitt from his duties, Penny soon left the
Star
office. Debating a moment, she walked to the nearby police station. There she was courteously received by Chief Jalman, a personal friend of her father’s.

“We’ll find Mr. Parker,” he assured her confidently. “His description has been broadcast over the radio. We’ve instructed all our men to be on the watch for him.”

Penny broached the possibility that her father had been waylaid by enemies.

“Facts fail to support such a theory,” replied Chief Jalman. “It’s my opinion your father will show up any hour, wondering what the fuss is all about.”

Penny left the police station rather cheered. Almost without thinking, she chose a route which led toward the scene of the accident. Reaching the familiar street, she noted that her father’s battered car had been towed away. All broken glass had been swept from the pavement.