The Penny Parker Megapack: 15 Complete Novels (87 page)

“It was after one o’clock when you came in,” Mrs. Weems replied, her voice stern. “You know I don’t approve of such hours for a girl of your age.”

“I promise it won’t happen again. Please let me go to Claymore though. I’m expected to buy playground equipment for the Riverview Orphans’ new camp.”

Exerting all her charm, Penny explained the necessity for the trip. Finally convincing Mrs. Weems that the excuse had not been “thought up” on the spur of the moment, she was granted the requested permission.

Penny’s next move was to induce Louise Sidell to accompany her on the excursion. Both girls laid siege to Mrs. Sidell who somewhat dubiously said that her daughter might go, providing she would be home by nightfall.

Recalling her father’s instructions, Penny called at the Riverview Orphans’ Home to talk with the matron. There she obtained a list of playground equipment to be purchased, with suggested prices for each item.

As the girls were leaving the institution they met Miss Anderson and paused to inquire about Adelle.

“The child seems to be nervous and unhappy,” the young woman told them. “Especially so since she ran away. We sincerely hope she will presently become adjusted.”

Penny asked if there was any prospect the little girl would be adopted.

“Not very soon,” Miss Anderson answered regretfully. “In fact, her name is not on the list of eligibles. We never allow a child to leave the Home until we feel that he or she is capable of adapting himself to new conditions.”

The drive to Claymore was an enjoyable one, and by eleven o’clock, the girls had purchased many of the items on their list. To the amusement of the department store salesman, they insisted upon testing teeter-totters, swings, and even the slides.

“All this equipment is for the Riverview Orphans’Home—not for ourselves,” Penny explained. “The committee will pay for it.”

“Very well, we’ll send the merchandise just as soon as a cheque is received,” the salesman promised, giving her an itemized bill.

Feeling very well satisfied with their purchases, Penny and Louise wandered into another department of the store. The delightful aroma of food drew them to a lunch counter, and from there they went to the main floor.

The store was very crowded. As Penny was inspecting a pair of gloves on a counter, a man pushed past her, and ran toward the nearest exit. In surprise she turned around, unintentionally blocking the way of a store detective. Shoving past her, he pursued the first man only to lose him in the milling crowd near the front door.

“That fellow must have been a shoplifter!” Penny remarked to Louise. “I think he got away too!”

The unexpected commotion had drawn the interest of many shoppers. Mingling with the crowd, the girls heard a woman tell a companion that the man who had escaped was wanted for attempting to pass a forged cheque.

A moment later, the store detective came striding down the aisle. Pausing at the jewelry counter he spoke to the floorman, confirming the report.

“Well, the fellow escaped! He tried to pass a bum cheque for fifty dollars.”

“What name did he use?” the floorman inquired.

“Ben Bowman. It will be something else next time.”

Penny had heard the words. Startled by the name, she moved hastily to the detective’s side.

“Excuse me,” she addressed him, “did I understand you to say that a man by the name of Ben Bowman forged a cheque?”

“That’s correct, Miss,” the detective answered, staring at her curiously. “Know anything about the man?”

“I think I may. Would it be possible for me to see the cheque?”

The detective removed it from a vest pocket, offering the signature for inspection. One glance satisfied Penny that the cheque had been signed by the same man who had been sending her father “crank” messages.

“At home I have a telegram which I’m sure bears this identical signature!” she revealed. “I’ve never seen the man though—except as he ran through the store.”

The store detective questioned Penny at length about her knowledge of Bowman. Realizing that a description of the man might be of great value to her, he showed her a small card which bore a mounted photograph.

“This is Ben Bowman,” he assured her. “He’s an expert forger, and uses any number of names. Think you can remember the face?”

“I’ll try to,” Penny replied. “He doesn’t seem to have any distinguishing features though.”

“His angular jaw is rather noticeable,” the detective pointed out. “Brown eyes are set fairly close together. He’s about six feet two and dresses well.”

Penny was highly elated to have gained a description of Bowman, and especially pleased that the man had been traced to Claymore. The fact that he was a known forger, encouraged her to hope that police soon would apprehend him.

“That one hundred dollars Dad offered for Bowman’s capture is as good as mine already,” she boasted gleefully to Louise as they left the store. “All I need to do is wait.”

“No doubt you’ll collect,” Louise admitted grudgingly. “I never met anyone with your brand of luck.”

“I feel especially lucky today too,” Penny said with a gay laugh. “Tell you what! Let’s make another tour of the vegetable markets.”

“It will make us late in getting home. The time is sure to be wasted too.”

“Oh, come along,” Penny urged, seizing her by the arm. “I promise to have you in Riverview no later than three o’clock.”

In driving into Claymore that morning the girls had noticed a large outdoor market near the outskirts of the city. Returning to it, Penny parked the car, and with her chum wandered about the sales area.

“A nice fat chicken?” a farm woman asked persuasively, holding up an uninviting specimen. “Fresh eggs?”

“We’re looking for melons,” Penny replied.

“Mr. Breldway has some nice cantaloupes,” the woman returned. “He got a truck load of ’em in from Riverview just the other day.”

Locating Mr. Breldway’s place of business, Louise and Penny began to inspect the melons offered for sale. Almost at once they came upon a basket of cantaloupes which bore a blurred stamp.

“Louise, these look like the Davis crop!” Penny cried excitedly. “Wouldn’t you say someone deliberately had blocked out the old marking?”

“It does appear that way.”

“Maybe we can find just one melon with the original stamp!”

Penny dug into the basket with both hands, tossing up cantaloupes for Louise to place on the ground. Their activities immediately drew the attention and displeasure of Mr. Breldway.

“If you’re looking for a good melon let me help you,” he said, hurrying toward them.

Penny straightened, holding up a cantaloupe for him to see.

“I don’t need any help,” she said distinctly. “I’ve found the melon I want. It bears the Davis stamp.”

CHAPTER 16

A FAMILIAR NAME

“The melon you have selected is a very good one,” the market man declared, not understanding the significance of Penny’s remark. “Shall I put it in a sack for you?”

“I’m not interested in the melon—only in the stamp,” Penny replied. “Do you realize that you may be liable to arrest?”

“What d’you mean, liable to arrest?” the man demanded. “I’m an honest dealer and I have a license.”

“Look at these melons.” Penny held up one which bore the blurred stamp. “The trade name has been altered.”

The dealer took the cantaloupe from her, examining it briefly. She then offered him the single melon bearing the Davis stamp.

“Well, what about it?” he asked.

“Just this. A few nights ago a truck load of melons similar to these, was stolen from the Davis farm near Riverview. The thief was trailed right to this city.”

“You’re trying to say that I sell stolen melons!”

“I’m not making any direct accusations,” Penny replied evenly. “No doubt you can explain where you got the melons.”

“Certainly I can. I bought a truck load of them from a farmer named John Toby. The melons were good, the price cheap, and I didn’t pay any attention to the stamp.”

“Is Mr. Toby a regular dealer?”

“I buy from him now and then, when his prices are right. I never bothered to ask any questions.”

“Where does the man live?”

“I can’t tell you that. He’s a large, heavy-set fellow with brown hair and eyes.”

The description was too meagre to be of value to Penny.

“Does Mr. Toby drive a red truck?” she inquired thoughtfully.

“He did this last time.”

“It was a red truck which was stolen from the Davis farm,” Penny said quietly. “I’m sure these melons came from there too.”

“I paid good money for them,” the dealer retorted in a defiant tone. “So far as I knew, they belonged to this fellow Toby. I can’t investigate every farmer who offers me produce.”

“All the same, you could get into serious trouble for selling stolen melons,” Penny replied. “Of course, I have no intention of going to the police, providing you are willing to cooperate.”

“What d’you mean, cooperate?” the dealer inquired suspiciously.

“Only this. Will you see John Toby again?”

“That’s hard to tell. He said he might bring in another load of melons within the next few days.”

“When you receive the next shipment, will you notify me?”

“Yes, I’m willing to do that,” the dealer promised. “If Toby is crooked, I want to know it myself.”

Penny gave the man her name, address, and telephone number. Knowing that he might not be able to reach her quickly enough, she instructed him to detain the farmer by force if necessary.

“If I can’t get in touch with you, I may have the fellow questioned by police,” the dealer offered. “I don’t want to put myself into a hole.”

Penny was not entirely satisfied that the market man would keep his promise. However, she hesitated to make a report to the police without first consulting her father. Everything considered, it seemed best to let the situation work out as it would.

“Well, your luck is still running true to form,”Louise said jokingly, as the girls drove toward Riverview. “Do you have any idea who John Toby may be?”

“Not the slightest,” Penny confessed. “The description would fit Hank Holloway, or for that matter, any one of a dozen men I know.”

The girls arrived in Riverview by mid-afternoon after an uneventful trip. Penny dropped Louise at the Sidell home and then went to the
Star
office to talk with her father. Mr. Parker was absent from his desk, but his secretary who was typing letters, explained that he would return in a moment.

Penny sat down in her father’s chair to wait. A bulky, unsealed envelope lay on the desk. Peering at it curiously she noted that it bore the marking: “Property Deed: Lots 456, 457, and 458.”

“What’s this?” she asked aloud. “Is Dad buying property?”

“Oh, no,” the secretary replied, glancing up from her typewriter. “That is the deed and abstract for the Orphans’ Camp site.”

“I wonder which property it is?”

“The land Mr. Blake controls, I believe. At least he brought the papers into the office this morning for your father’s inspection. I heard him say that if the forms are satisfactory, the deal will be completed at once.”

Penny unfolded one of the lengthy documents, shaking her head as she scanned the legal terms.

“I don’t see how Dad makes anything of this,” she said. “Such a mess of words and names!”

“I imagine Mr. Parker intends to turn it over to his lawyer,” the secretary smiled.

The editor entered the office at that moment, and Penny directed her next question to him.

“Dad, is it all settled that the camp board will purchase Mr. Blake’s land?”

“Practically so,” he answered. “If my lawyer, Mr. Adams, approves the abstract, the deal will be completed. Against my advice Mrs. Van Cleve already has given Blake five hundred dollars to hold an option.”

“Why did she do that, Dad?”

“Well, Blake convinced her he had another buyer for the property. It’s the old story. Competition stimulates interest.”

“Do the papers seem to be all right?”

“Oh, I’ve not looked at them,” Mr. Parker replied. “Blake is a good real estate man though, so there’s not likely to be any flaw.”

“Who actually owns the property, Dad?”

“It’s there on the abstract,” he answered. “Why not look it up for yourself?”

“Too much like doing home-work,” Penny grinned, but she spread the document on the desk and began to read various names aloud. “‘Anna and Harry Clark to Lydia Goldwein, Lydia Goldwein to Benjamin Bowman—’”

“What was that name?” Mr. Parker demanded sharply.

“Benjamin Bowman.” Penny peered at the document a second time to make certain she had made no mistake. “That’s the truth, Dad. Who knows, maybe it’s your old pal, Ben!”

“Are you making up that name?” Mr. Parker asked skeptically.

Penny thrust the abstract into his hand. “Here, read it for yourself, Dad. Bowman seems to be the present owner of the land.”