The Penny Parker Megapack: 15 Complete Novels (147 page)

“Roughly, about two days.”

Mr. Parker threw off the covers.

“Oh, no, you don’t,” said Penny, pressing him back against the pillow. “Doctor Greer says you are to have absolute bed rest for several days. It’s part of the treatment.”

“Treatment for what?” grumbled Mr. Parker. “I feel fine!”

“That’s wonderful,” declared Penny, with a deep sigh of relief. “I’ll have Mrs. Weems bring up something for you to eat.”

She called down the stairway to the housekeeper, and then returned to the bedside. Her father looked more like his former self than at any time since the strange motor accident which had caused him to lose his memory. His voice too, was more natural.

“Guess I must have had a bad dream,” Mr. Parker murmured, his gaze roving slowly about the room. “I seem to recall riding around in a taxi, and being pushed out into the snow.”

“You know where you are now, don’t you?” asked Penny.

“Certainly. I’m at home.”

Mrs. Weems came into the room bearing a tray of food. Hearing Mr. Parker’s words, she looked at Penny and tears sprang to her eyes.

“Doctor Greer was right,” she whispered. “His memory is slowly coming back. How thankful I am!”

“What’s all this?” Mr. Parker inquired alertly. “Will someone kindly tell me why I am being imprisoned in this bed?”

“Because you’ve been very, very sick,” Penny said, arranging the food in front of him. “You know who I am now, don’t you?”

“Why, certainly,” replied Mr. Parker indignantly. “You’re my daughter. Your name is—now let me think—”

“Penny.”

“To be sure,” agreed Mr. Parker, in confusion. “Fancy forgetting my own daughter’s name!”

“You’ve forgotten a number of other things too, Dad. But events gradually are coming back to you. Suppose you tell me your name.”

“My name?” Mr. Parker looked bewildered. “Why, I don’t remember. It’s not Jones. I took that name because I couldn’t think of my own. What’s wrong with me?”

Penny tucked a napkin beneath her father’s chin and offered him a spoonful of beef broth.

“What’s wrong with me?” Mr. Parker demanded again. “Am I a lunatic? Can’t either of you tell me the truth?”

“You’re recovering from a severe case of amnesia,” revealed Penny. “The doctor says it was brought on by overwork in combination with the shock of being in an auto accident. Since you were hurt you’ve not remembered what happened before that time.”

“I do recall the auto mishap,” Mr. Parker said slowly. “Another car crowded me off the road. The crash stunned me, and my mind was a sort of blank. Then a pleasant woman took me to her home.”

“A pleasant woman, Dad?”

“Why, yes, Mrs. Botts gave me a nice room and good food. I liked it there. But one night a girl broke in—could that have been you, Penny?”

“Indeed, it was.”

“When Mrs. Botts came home she was very excited,”Mr. Parker resumed meditatively. “She said I had to leave. She hustled me out of the house with two strangers.”

“One of the men was Ropes Mollinberg, a member of the tire-theft gang.”

“Yes, that was his name!” Mr. Parker agreed. “Speaking of tire thieves, I’ve been intending to write an editorial for the paper. Penny, please have my secretary come in. I’ll dictate the material while it is fresh in my mind.”

Mrs. Weems looked slightly distressed. Penny, however, whisked away the tray of food. Getting pencil and paper she again sat down beside her father.

“Your secretary isn’t available just now, but I’ll take down what you want to say.”

Penny could not write shorthand so she only pretended to jot down notes. Mr. Parker led off with a few crisp sentences, then wandered vaguely from one idea to another.

“I can’t seem to think straight any more,” he complained. “Type that up please and let me see it before it goes to the compositors.”

“How shall I sign the editorial?” Penny inquired.

“Why, with my name—Anthony Parker.”

Penny jumped up and fairly laughed with joy.

“Dad, events are coming back to you! You’ve just recalled your name and that’s a big step forward.”

“Anthony Parker,” the publisher murmured. “Yes, that’s it! Now there’s another matter that troubles me. I had a brief case—”

“It was stolen by those men who took you away,”Penny supplied eagerly. “Dad, if only you could remember what those lost papers contained, we’d expose the entire tire-theft gang!”

Mr. Parker thought for a long while, then shook his head.

“Mind’s a blank, Penny. What does the doctor say? Is there a chance my memory ever will return?”

“Of course,” returned Penny heartily. “You’ve already recalled a number of important things. Me, for instance! Doctor Greer thinks that with rest, events will gradually return to mind. Or another shock, perhaps a blow somewhat similar to the one you had, might bring everything back.”

“Well, what are we waiting for?” Mr. Parker joked. “Go get the sledge hammer!”

“It’s not that easy, I’m afraid.”

“I’m afraid not, either,” sighed Mr. Parker wearily. “Guess I’ll sleep some more now. I feel pretty tired.”

During the days that followed, the publisher made a slow but steady recovery. At first Penny did not worry him by mentioning how matters had gone at the
Star
office. Only after Mr. Parker was well enough to spend several hours a day at the plant, did she reveal how Harley Schirr had sought to establish himself as editor of the paper.

“That fellow!” exclaimed Mr. Parker in annoyance. “Why, I meant to discharge him and he knew it. I have evidence in my safe showing that Schirr accepted money from a local politician.”

“You did have evidence,” Penny corrected. “While you were away, Mr. Schirr went through your safe.”

Amazed by the boldness of his former employee, Mr. Parker immediately examined the contents of both his desk and strongbox. To his chagrin he found that Penny was right. Every document pertaining to Schirr was missing.

“Well, it doesn’t matter,” the publisher said philosophically. “He’ll never set foot in this office again, nor in any other Riverview newspaper!”

“Dad,” said Penny, “I’ve wondered if Schirr may not be hooked up with the tire-theft gang. What do you think?”

“My poor thinker isn’t much good these days. However, I very much doubt it, Penny. Schirr always was a snoop and not above taking money for writing biased stories. My judgment would be that he has no connection with the Mollinberg outfit.”

“If only you could remember what was in your stolen portfolio!” Penny sighed.

“If only I could!” agreed Mr. Parker. “Sometimes I doubt I’ll ever fully recover my memory.”

“Oh, you will, Dad. You’re doing better every day.”

Penny seldom spoke of the automobile accident which had caused her father’s trouble for the subject was a painful one to them both. Although the publisher had been absolved of all blame, police had not succeeded in tracing the hit-skip driver.

Mr. Parker seemed well and strong. Each day he went to the office for longer and longer periods. Gradually his memory was returning, yet he had been unable to recall data which might bring about the capture of the tire-theft gang. Strangely, he could remember nothing of his intention to call at the State Prosecutor’s office. Nor could he disclose a scrap of evidence which had been carried in the stolen portfolio.

“If only Jerry would wire or return from his vacation!”Penny commented anxiously. “I can’t understand why he doesn’t reply to my message.”

The reporter’s long absence had caused considerable worry at the
Star
office. Jerry was the one person who could divulge the contents of the stolen portfolio documents, but repeated wires failed to bring any response.

“Jerry will show up one of these days,” Mr. Parker said confidently. “The only trouble is, by that time the higher-ups of the tire-theft gang may have skipped town.”

“Dad, can’t you remember the men who took you away in the taxi?”

“Only vaguely. I’ve described them to police as best I can. So far, no action.”

Penny was silent for a moment. In her mind she had been turning over a way to bring the crooks to justice. It seemed to her that the men might be identified through Black Market operators with whom they must have dealings.

“Now what are you keeping from me?” inquired Mr. Parker lightly.

“I was thinking about a place known as Mattie Williams’garage,” replied Penny. “I’ve good reason to suspect it deals in stolen tires.”

She went on to tell of her recent adventure in the storage room of the garage. The information did not excite Mr. Parker as she had feared it might. Instead, it fired him with a determination to get at the truth of the matter.

“Penny, we’ll break our story yet!” he exclaimed, reaching for his hat. “Let’s go to Mattie’s place now!”

“Unless we actually see the inside of the storage room we’ll learn nothing. You may be sure Mattie and her partner won’t cooperate.”

“We’ll get into that room somehow,” returned Mr. Parker grimly. “I’ll take along a few pet skeleton keys just for luck.”

At the Williams’ garage an hour later, they found Mattie and Sam busy with repair work.

“Be with you in a minute,” the woman called to Mr. Parker.

“No hurry,” replied the publisher. “No hurry whatsoever.”

He and Penny wandered aimlessly about. Choosing a moment when both Sam and Mattie were inside the office, they slipped unnoticed into the room where the empty boxes had been stored.

“Now show me the tunnel,” urged the publisher. “We’ll have to work fast!”

Penny swung back the hinged boards of the big box. She led her father between a high aisle of crates to the locked door of the inner room.

“Now if only I have a key that will unlock it!” muttered Mr. Parker.

He tried several. At length one did fit the keyhole, the lock clicked, and he was able to push open the door.

In the little storage room close to the outside building wall were tires of all sizes and description. Some were new, still wrapped in clean paper. Others appeared slightly used.

“See, Dad!” Penny cried triumphantly. “I was right!”

“We still have no proof this rubber was illegally obtained.”

Penny darted forward to inspect a stack of tires which rose half way to the ceiling.

“Here’s one that might have come off my car!” she cried. “See! Mine had a tiny cut place where I rammed the maple tree backing out of our garage!”

“All tires look alike, Penny. Without the serial number—”

“I do remember part of it. One was 8910 something.”

“Then this isn’t your tire,” replied Mr. Parker, reading the number. “However, I shouldn’t be surprised that these are stolen tires.”

Penny held up her hand as a signal for silence.

“Quiet, Dad!” she whispered.

Footsteps had sounded in the tunnel between the boxes. The next instant the door was flung open. Penny and her father stood face to face with Sam Burkholder.

CHAPTER 24

TRICKERY

“What d’you think you’re doing in here?” demanded Sam Burkholder harshly. “Snoopers, eh?”

“Call us that if you like,” retorted Mr. Parker. “How long have you been dealing in stolen tires?”

The shot hit its target. Sam started to speak but no words came. He looked badly frightened. Convinced that his suspicion was correct, Mr. Parker added sternly:

“Naturally, I’ll report this to the police. You and your partner will have to face charges.”

“Keep Mattie out of this,” growled Sam. “She had nothing to do with the tire business.”

“So you carried on crooked operations all by your lonesome?”

“I’ve bought and sold a few tires,” Sam said sullenly. “All these government regulations give me a pain. A guy can’t make any money these days.”

“So you admit you’ve been doing an illegal business?”

“Maybe,” said Sam, watching Mr. Parker craftily. “But what’s it to you? I take it you’re not a government agent?”

“I’m interested in breaking up a gang of leeches—the men who’ve been cleaning this town of tires for the past three months.”

“Those guys are crooks all right,” agreed Sam. “Why the last time they sold me a bunch of tires they charged double. When I wasn’t going to take ’em they said, ‘Either you do, or else!’”

“Did you deal with Ropes Mollinberg?”

“He’s just one of the little fry. What will you give me to spill?”

“Nothing.”

“Will you keep Mattie out of this?”

“If she’s innocent.”

“She is,” insisted Sam. “Supposin’ I tell you how to get the whole gang, will you forget what you’ve seen here?”

“I make no bargains with Black Market dealers,” retorted Mr. Parker. “Either you tell what you know, or I’ll have you and Mattie hauled into court.”

Sam Burkholder was silent a moment.