The Penny Parker Megapack: 15 Complete Novels (7 page)

“He disappeared?” the gardener repeated incredulously.

“Yes, it’s very peculiar. Mr. Atherwald arrived at the estate in ample time for the wedding. But after he read a note which was delivered to him he walked off in this direction and was seen no more.”

“Down this path, you mean?”

“I couldn’t say as to that, but he started this way. I know because I saw him myself.”

“Atherwald didn’t come here,” the gardener said with finality. “I’ve been working around the lily pond all afternoon and would have seen him.”

Penny’s fingers closed tightly about the white gold ring which she kept shielded from the man’s gaze. In her opinion the trinket offered almost conclusive proof that the bridegroom had visited the locality. Because she could not trust the gardener she kept her thoughts strictly to herself.

The man stared down at his feet, obviously disturbed by the information Penny had given him.

“Do you suppose harm could have befallen Mr. Atherwald?” she asked after a moment.

“Harm?” he demanded irritably. “That’s sheer nonsense. The fellow probably skipped out. He ought to be tarred and feathered!”

“And you would enjoy doing it?” Penny interposed slyly.

The gardener glared at her, making no attempt to hide his dislike.

“Such treatment would be too good for anyone who hurt Miss Sylvia. Now will you get out of here? I have my orders and I mean to enforce them.”

“Oh, all right,” replied Penny. “I was going anyway.”

This was not strictly true, for had the gardener not been there she would have made a more thorough investigation of the locality near the lily pool. But now she had no hope of learning more, and so turned away.

Emerging from among the trees, she glanced toward the rose garden. Nearly all of the wedding guests had departed. Penny considered whether or not she should speak to Mrs. Kippenberg about finding the ring. Deciding against it, she joined a group of people at the boat dock and was ferried across the river.

Salt awaited her at the drawbridge.

“I just about gave you up,” he complained. “It’s time for us to get back to the office or our news won’t be news. The wedding is definitely off?”

“Yes, Atherwald can’t be found.”

“We’ll stop at a drug store and telephone,” Salt said, pulling her toward the car. “Learn anything more after I left?”

“Well, I found a wedding ring and was nearly chewed up by an alligator,” laughed Penny. “It seemed rather interesting at the time.”

The photographer gave her a queer look as he started the automobile.

“Imagination and journalism never mix,” he said.

“Does this look like imagination?” Penny countered, showing him the plain band ring.

“Where did you find it?”

“Beside a lily pond in the forbidden part of the estate. I feel certain it must have been dropped by Grant Atherwald.”

“Thrown away?”

“I don’t know exactly what to think,” Penny replied soberly.

Salt steered the car into the main road which led back to Corbin. Then he inquired: “Did you notice any signs of a struggle? Grass trampled? Footprints?”

“I didn’t have a chance to do any investigating. That bossy old gardener came and drove me away.”

“What were you saying about alligators?”

“Salt, I saw one swimming around in the lily pool,”Penny told him earnestly. “It was an ugly brute, at least twelve feet long.”

“How long?”

“Well, eight anyway.”

“You’re joking.”

“I am not,” Penny said indignantly.

“Maybe it was only a big log lying in the water.”

Penny gave an injured sniff. “Have it your own way. But it wasn’t a log. I guess I can tell an alligator when I see one.”

“If you’re actually right,” Salt said unmoved, “I’d like to have snapped a picture of it. You know, this story might develop into something big.”

“I have a feeling it will, Salt.”

“If Atherwald really has disappeared it should create a sensation!”

“And if the poor fellow had the misfortune to fall or be pushed into the lily pool Dad wouldn’t have headlines large enough to carry it!”

“Say, get a grip on yourself,” Salt advised. “The
Riverview Star
prints fact, not fancy.”

“That’s because so many of Dad’s reporters are stodgy old fellows,” laughed Penny. “But I’ll admit it isn’t very likely Grant Atherwald was devoured by the alligator.”

The car had reached Corbin. Salt drew up in front of a drug store.

“Run in and telephone DeWitt,” he said, opening the door for her. “And remember, stick to facts.”

Penny was a little frightened as she entered the telephone booth and placed a long distance call to the
Riverview Star
. She never failed to feel nervous when she talked with DeWitt, the city editor, for he was not a very pleasant individual.

She jumped as the receiver was taken down and a voice barked: “City desk.”

“This is Penny Parker over at Corbin,” she began weakly.

“Can’t hear you,” snapped DeWitt. “Talk up.”

Penny repeated her name and DeWitt’s voice lost some of its edge. Gathering courage, she started to tell him what she had learned at the Kippenberg estate.

“Hold it,” interrupted DeWitt. “I’ll switch you over to a rewrite man.”

The connection was made and Penny began a second time. Now and then the rewrite man broke into the narrative to ask a question.

“All right, I think I have it all,” he said finally and hung up.

Penny went back to the car looking as crestfallen as she felt.

“I don’t know what they thought of the story,” she told Salt. “DeWitt certainly didn’t waste any words of praise.”

“He never does,” chuckled the photographer. “You’re lucky if you don’t get fired.”

“That’s one consolation,” returned Penny, settling herself for the long ride home. “He can’t fire me. Being the editor’s daughter has its advantages.”

The regular night edition of the
Riverview Star
was on the street by the time they reached the city. Salt signaled a newsboy and bought a paper while the car waited for a traffic light. He tossed it over to Penny.

“Here it is! My story!” she cried, and then her face fell.

“What’s the matter?” asked Salt. “Did they garble it all up?”

“They’ve cut it down to three inches! And not a word about the alligator or the lost wedding ring! I could cry! Why, I told that rewrite man enough to fill at least a column!”

“Well, anyway you made the front page,” the photographer consoled. “They may build the story up in the next edition after they get my pictures.”

Penny said nothing, remaining in deep gloom during the remainder of the ride to the
Star
office. Salt let her out at the front door. She debated for a moment whether or not to go on home, but finally entered the building.

DeWitt was busy at his desk as she walked stiffly past. She hoped that he would notice how she ignored him, but he did not glance up from the copy before him.

Penny opened the door of her father’s private office and stopped short.

“Why, Dad?” she cried. “What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be home in bed.”

“I finally persuaded the doctor to let me out,” Anthony Parker replied, swinging around in his swivel chair. “How did you get along with your assignment?”

“I thought I did very well,” Penny said aloofly. “But from now on I’ll not telephone anything in. I’ll write the story myself.”

“Now don’t blame DeWitt or the rewrite man,” said Mr. Parker, smiling. “A paper has to be careful in what it publishes, especially about a wedding. Alligators are a bit too—shall we say sensational?”

“You made a similar remark about witch dolls,” Penny reminded him.

“I did eat my words that time,” Mr. Parker admitted,“but this is different. If we build up a big story about Grant Atherwald’s disappearance, and then tomorrow he shows up at his own home, we’ll appear pretty ridiculous.”

“I guess you’re right,” Penny said, turning away. “Well, I’m happy to see you back in the office again.”

Mr. Parker watched her speculatively. When she reached the door he inquired: “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

“What, Dad?”

“Today is Thursday.” The editor took a sealed envelope from the desk drawer. “This is the first time you have failed to collect your allowance in over a year.”

“I must be slipping.” Penny grinned as she pocketed the envelope.

“Why don’t you open it?”

“What’s the use?” Penny asked gloomily. “It’s always the same. Anyway, I borrowed two dollars last week so this doesn’t really belong to me.”

“You might be pleasantly surprised.”

Penny stared at her father with disbelief. “Dad! You don’t mean you’ve given me a raise!”

Eagerly, she ripped open the envelope. Three crisp dollar bills fluttered into her hand. With a shriek of delight, Penny flung her arms about her father’s neck.

“I always try to reward a good reporter,” he chuckled. “Now take yourself off because my work is stacked a mile high.”

Penny tripped gaily toward the door but it opened before she could cross the room. An office boy came in with a message for Mr. Parker.

“Man to see you named Atherwald,” he announced.

The name produced an electrifying effect upon both Penny and her father.

“Atherwald!” Mr. Parker exclaimed. “Then he hasn’t disappeared after all! Show him in.”

“And I’m staying right here,” Penny declared, easing herself into the nearest chair. “I have a hunch that this interview may concern me.”

CHAPTER 8

PARENTAL PROTEST

In a few minutes the office boy returned, followed by a distinguished, middle-aged man who carried a cane. Penny gave him an astonished glance for she had expected to see Grant Atherwald. It had not occurred to her that there might be two persons with the same surname.

“Mr. Atherwald?” inquired her father, waving the visitor into a chair.

“James Atherwald.”

The man spoke shortly and did not sit down. Instead he spread out a copy of the night edition of the
Star
and pointed to the story which Penny had covered. She quaked inwardly, wondering what error of hers was to be exposed.

“Do you see this?” Mr. Atherwald demanded.

“What about it?” inquired the editor pleasantly.

“You are holding my family up to ridicule by printing such a story! Grant Atherwald is my son!”

“Is the story incorrect?”

“Yes, you imply that my son deliberately jilted Sylvia Kippenberg!”

“And actually he didn’t?” Mr. Parker inquired evenly.

“Certainly not. My son is a man of honor and had a very deep regard for Sylvia. Under no circumstance would he have jilted her.”

“Still, the wedding did not take place.”

“That is true,” Mr. Atherwald admitted.

“Perhaps you can explain why it was postponed?”

“I don’t know what happened to Grant,” Mr. Atherwald said reluctantly. “He left our home in ample time for the ceremony, and I might add, was in excellent spirits. I believe he must have been the victim of a stupid, practical joke.”

“Well, that suggests a new angle,” Mr. Parker remarked thoughtfully. “Did your son have friends who might be apt to play such a joke on him?”

“No one of my acquaintance,” Mr. Atherwald answered unwillingly. “Of course, he had many young friends who were not in my circle.”

Penny had listened quietly to the conversation. She now arose and came over to the desk. From her pocket she took the white gold wedding ring.

“Mr. Atherwald,” she said, “I wonder if you could identify this.”

The man studied the trinket for a moment.

“It looks very much like a ring which Grant purchased for Sylvia,” he declared. “Where did you get it?”

“I found it lying on the ground at the Kippenberg estate,” Penny replied vaguely. She had no intention of divulging the exact locality where she had picked up the ring.

“You see,” said Mr. Parker, “we have supporting facts in our possession which were not published. All in all, I think the story was handled discreetly, with due regard for the feelings of those involved.”

“Then you refuse to retract the story?”

“I should like to oblige you, Mr. Atherwald, but you realize such a story as this is of great interest to our readers.”

“You care only for sensationalism!”

“On the contrary, we try to avoid it,” Mr. Parker corrected. “In this particular case, we deliberately played the story down. If it develops that your son actually has disappeared—”

“I tell you it was only a practical joke,” Mr. Atherwald interrupted. “No doubt my son is at home by this time. The wedding has merely been postponed.”