The Penny Parker Megapack: 15 Complete Novels (26 page)

“It is very simple. That is, if you have the proper recommendations and bank credit.”

“Recommendations?” Penny asked blankly. “Just what is the Green Room anyway?”

Ralph Fergus and the clerk exchanged a quick glance which was not lost upon the girl.

“I see you are not familiar with the little service which is offered hotel guests,” Mr. Fergus said suavely. “I shall be most happy to explain it to you at some later time when I am not quite so busy.”

He bowed and went hurriedly back into the office.

“I guess I shouldn’t have inquired about the Green Room,” Penny observed aloud. “There seems to be a deep mystery connected with it.”

“No mystery,” corrected the clerk. “If you will leave your name and address I am sure everything can be arranged within a few days.”

“Thank you, I don’t believe I’ll bother.”

Penny turned and nearly ran into Francine Sellberg. Too late, she realized that the girl reporter probably had been standing by the desk for some time, listening to her conversation.

“Hello, Francine,” she said carelessly.

The girl returned a haughty stare. “I don’t believe I know you, Miss,” she said, and walked on across the lobby.

Penny was rather stunned by the unexpected snub. She took a step as if to follow Francine and demand an explanation, but her sense of humor came to her rescue.

“Who cares?” she asked herself with a shrug. “If she doesn’t care to know me, it’s perfectly all right. I can manage to bear up.”

After Francine had left the hotel, Penny made up her mind that she would try to learn a little more about the Green Room. Her interest was steadily mounting and she could not imagine what “service” might be offered guests in this particular part of the hotel.

Choosing a moment when no one appeared to be watching, Penny mounted the stairway to the second floor. She followed a long corridor to its end but did not locate Room 22. Returning to the elevator, she started in the opposite direction. The numbers ended at 20.

While Penny was trying to figure it out, a group of four men and women came down the hall. They were well dressed individuals but their manner did not stamp them as persons of good breeding. One of the women who carried a jeweled handbag was talking in a loud, excited tone:

“Oh, Herbert, wait until you see it! I shall weep my eyes out if you don’t agree to buy it for me at once. And the price! Ridiculously cheap! We’ll never run into bargains like these in New York.”

“We’ll see, Sally,” replied the man. “I’m not satisfied yet that this isn’t a flim-flam game.”

He opened a door which bore no number, and stood aside for the others to pass ahead of him. Penny caught a glimpse of a long, empty hallway.

“That must be the way to Room 22,” she thought.

She waited until the men and women had gone ahead, and then cautiously opened the door which had closed behind them. No one questioned her as she moved noiselessly down the corridor. At its very end loomed a green painted door, its top edge gracefully circular. Beside it at a small table sat a man who evidently was stationed there as a guard.

Penny walked slowly, watching the men and women ahead. They paused at the table and showed slips of cardboards. The guard then opened the green door and allowed them to pass through.

It looked so very easy that Penny decided to try her luck. She drew closer.

“Your card please,” requested the doorman.

“I am afraid I haven’t mine with me,” said Penny, flashing her most beguiling smile.

The smile was entirely lost upon the man. “Then I can’t let you in,” he said.

“Not even if I have lost my card?”

“Orders,” he answered briefly. “You’ll have no trouble getting another.”

Penny started to turn away, and then asked with attempted carelessness:

“What’s going on in there anyway? Are they selling something?”

“I really couldn’t tell you,” he responded.

“Everyone in this hotel seems to be blind, deaf and dumb,” Penny muttered to herself as she retraced her way to the main hall. “And definitely, for a purpose. I wonder if maybe I haven’t stumbled into something?”

She still had not the faintest idea what might lie beyond the Green Door, but the very name had an intriguing sound. It suggested mystery. It suggested, too, that Ralph Fergus and his financial backer, Harvey Maxwell, might have developed some special money-making scheme which would not bear exposure.

Into Penny’s mind leaped a remark which her father had made, one to the effect that Harvey Maxwell was thought to have his finger in many dishonest affairs. The Green Room might be a perfectly legitimate place of entertainment for hotel guests, but the remarks she had overheard led Penny to think otherwise. Something was being sold in Room 22. And to a very select clientele!

“If only I could learn facts which would help Dad’s case!” she told herself. “Anything showing that Maxwell is mixed up in a dishonest scheme might turn the trick!”

It occurred to Penny that the editor of the
Riverview Record
might have had some inkling of a story to be found at Pine Top. Otherwise, why had Francine been sent to the mountain resort? Certainly the rival reporter was working upon an assignment which concerned Harvey Maxwell. She inadvertently had revealed that fact at the Riverview airport.

“Francine thinks I came here for the same purpose,” mused Penny. “If only she weren’t so high-hat we could work together.”

There was almost no real evidence to point to a conclusion that the Fergus hotel was not being operated properly. Penny realized only too well that once more she was depending upon a certain intuition. An investigation of the Green Room might reveal no mystery. But at least there was a slender hope she could learn something which would aid her father in discrediting Harvey Maxwell.

Without attracting attention, Penny descended to the main floor and left the hotel. As she retrieved her skis from the snowbank she was surprised to see Francine standing close by, obviously waiting for her.

“Hello, Penny,” the girl greeted her.

“Goodness! Aren’t you mistaken? I don’t think you know me!”

“Oh, don’t try to be funny,” Francine replied, falling into step. “I’ll explain.”

“I wish you would.”

“You should have known better than to shout out my name there in the lobby.”

“I don’t follow your reasoning at all, Francine. Are you traveling incognito or something?”

“Naturally I don’t care to have it advertised that I am a reporter. I rather imagine you’re not overly anxious to have it known that you are the daughter of Anthony Parker either!”

“It probably wouldn’t be any particular help,” admitted Penny.

“Exactly! Despite your play-acting at the airport, I know you came here to get the low-down on Harvey Maxwell. But the minute he learns who you are you’ll not even get inside the hotel.”

“And that goes double, I take it?”

“No one at Pine Top except you knows I am a reporter,” went on Francine without answering. “So I warn you, don’t pull another boner like you did a few minutes ago. Whenever we’re around Fergus or Maxwell or persons who might report to them, just remember you never saw me before. Is that clear?”

“Moderately so,” drawled Penny.

“I guess that’s all I have to say.” Francine hesitated and started to walk off.

“Wait a minute, Francine,” spoke Penny impulsively. “Why don’t we bury the hatchet and work together on this thing? After all I am more interested in gaining evidence against Maxwell than I am in getting a big story for the paper. How about it?”

Francine smiled in a superior way.

“Thank you, I prefer to lone wolf it. You see, I happen to have a very good lead, and you don’t.”

“Well, I’ve heard about the Green Room,” said Penny, hazarding a shot in the dark. “That’s something.”

Francine stopped short.

“What do you know about it?” she demanded quickly. “Maybe we could work together after all.”

Penny laughed as she bent down to strap on her skis.

“No, thanks,” she declined pleasantly. “You once suggested that a clever reporter finds his own answers. You’ll have to wait until you read it in the
Star
!”

CHAPTER 8

A CODED MESSAGE

Penny sat in the kitchen of Mrs. Downey’s lodge, warming her half frozen toes in the oven.

“Well, how did you like the skiing?” inquired her hostess who was busy mixing a huge meat loaf to be served for dinner.

“It was glorious,” answered Penny, “only I took a bad spill. Somehow I missed the turn you told me about, and found myself heading for a barbed wire fence. I jumped it and made a one point landing in a snowbank!”

“You didn’t hurt yourself, thank goodness.”

“No, but an old man with a shotgun came out of the woods and said ‘Scat!’ to me. It seems he doesn’t like skiers.”

“That must have been Peter Jasko.”

“And who is he, Mrs. Downey?”

“One of the oldest settlers on Pine Top Mountain,” sighed Mrs. Downey. “He’s a very pleasant man in some respects, but in others—oh, dear.”

“Skiing must be one of his unpleasant aspects. I noticed he had a ‘Keep Out’ sign posted on his property.”

“Peter Jasko is a great trial to me and other persons on the mountain. He has a hatred of skiing and everything pertaining to it, which amounts to fanaticism. A number of skiers have been injured by running into his barbed wire fence.”

“Then he put it up on purpose?”

“Oh, yes! He has an idea it will keep folks from skiing.”

“He isn’t—?” Penny tapped her forehead significantly.

“No,” smiled Mrs. Downey. “Old Peter is right in his mind, at least in every respect save this one. He owns our best ski slopes, too.”

Penny shifted her foot to a cooler place in the oven.

“Not the slopes connected with this lodge?”

Mrs. Downey nodded as she whipped eggs to a foamy yellow.

“I leased the land from Jasko’s son many years ago, and Jasko can do nothing about it except rage. However, the lease expires soon. He has given me to understand it will not be renewed.”

“Can’t you deal with the son?”

“He is dead, Penny.”

“Oh, I see. That does make it difficult.”

“Decidedly. Jasko’s attitude about the lease is another reason why I think this will be my last year in the hotel business.”

“You don’t think Ralph Fergus or Harvey Maxwell have influenced Jasko?” Penny asked thoughtfully, a frown ridging her forehead.

“I doubt that anyone could influence the old man,” replied Mrs. Downey. “Stubborn isn’t the word to describe his character. Even if I lose the ski slopes, I am quite sure he will never lease them to the Fergus hotel interests.”

“While I was down there I thought I saw a girl standing at the window of the cabin.”

“Probably you did, Penny. Jasko has a granddaughter about your age, named Sara. A very nice girl, too, but she is kept close at home.”

“I feel sorry for her if she has to live with that old man. He seemed like a regular ogre.”

Removing her toasted feet from the oven, Penny pulled on her stiff boots again. Without bothering to lace them, she hobbled toward the door.

“Oh, by the way,” she remarked, pausing. “Did you ever hear of a Green Room at the Fergus hotel?”

“A Green Room?” repeated Mrs. Downey. “No, I can’t say I have. What is it, Penny?”

“I wonder myself. Something funny seems to be going on there.”

Having aroused Mrs. Downey’s curiosity, Penny gave a more complete account of her visit to the Fergus hotel.

“I’ve never heard anyone mention such a place,” declared the woman in a puzzled voice. “But I will say this. The hotel always has attracted a peculiar group of guests.”

“How would you like to have me solve the mystery for you?” joked Penny.

“It would suit me very well indeed,” laughed Mrs. Downey. “And while you’re about it you might put Ralph Fergus out of business, and bring me a new flock of guests.”

“I’m afraid you’re losing one instead. Maxine Miller told me she is moving down to the big hotel.”

“I know. She checked out a half hour ago. Jake made an extra trip to haul her luggage down the mountain.”

“Anyway, I shouldn’t be sorry to see her go if I were you,” comforted Penny. “I am quite sure she hasn’t enough money to pay for a week’s stay at Pine Top.”

Going to her room, Penny changed into more comfortable clothing and busied herself writing a long letter to her father. From her desk by the window she could see skiers trudging up the slopes, some of them making neat herring-bone tracks, others slipping and sliding, losing almost as much distance as they gained.

As she watched, Francine swung into view, poling rhythmically, in perfect timing with her long easy strides.

“She
is
good,” thought Penny, grudgingly.