The Penny Parker Megapack: 15 Complete Novels (91 page)

“The car isn’t by chance a gray one?”

“Yes, it is,” the man admitted. “How did you guess?”

“I didn’t guess,” Penny returned soberly. “I have a suspicion that car is the one which killed two people about a year ago. Mr. Davis, you must take me to it at once!”

CHAPTER 21

A BROKEN PROMISE

“You want me to take you to the abandoned car now?” Clem Davis echoed in surprise. “It’s located deep in the swamp, just off a side road.”

“Would it require long to get there?” Penny asked thoughtfully.

“A half hour at least. With night coming on you wouldn’t be able to see a thing.”

“It is getting dark,” Penny admitted regretfully. “Everything considered, I guess it would be better to wait until tomorrow. But in the meantime, I wish you would search the car carefully. Get the engine number—anything which might help to identify the owner.”

“The engine number has been filed off,” Clem answered. “I’ll give the car a good going over though to see what I can learn. Thanks for the food.”

Raising his hand in a semi salute, the man started into the woods.

“Don’t forget to meet Dad and me tomorrow night,”Penny called after him. “We’ll be waiting here about this same time.”

The interview with the fugitive had more than fulfilled Penny’s expectations. Driving straight home, she made a full report of the talk to her father. Breathlessly, she revealed that the Hoods held monthly meetings at the Hubell Tower, and that both Hank Holloway and Charley Phelps were members of the order.

“You weren’t able to learn the name of the headman?” Mr. Parker questioned.

“No, Clem didn’t know it himself. He says the Master never shows himself to anyone, but always appears in mask.”

Mr. Parker began to pace the floor, a habit of his when under mental stress. The information Penny had acquired was of utmost importance. He believed it to be authentic, but he dared not overlook the possibility that Clem Davis had deliberately lied.

“We must move cautiously on this story,” he said aloud. “Should we make false accusations against innocent persons, the
Star
would face disastrous lawsuits.”

“You’re not going to withhold the information from the public?” Penny demanded in disappointment.

“For the present, I must. The thing for us to do is to try to learn the identity of the head man. Any news published in the
Star
would only serve as a tip-off to him.”

“You’re right, of course,” Penny agreed after a moment of silence.

“Now that we have such a splendid start, it should be easy to gain additional information,” the editor resumed. “You say the meetings usually are held on the thirteenth of the month?”

“That’s what Clem Davis told me.”

“Then we’ll arrange to have the Tower watched on that night. In the meantime, I’ll see Davis and learn what I can from him. Jerry is working on the County Cooperative angle of the story, and should have some interesting facts soon.”

Penny knew that her father was adopting a wise policy, but she could not help feeling slightly disappointed. Always eager for action, she had hoped that Clem Davis’ disclosures would lead to the immediate arrest of both Hank Holloway and Charley Phelps. However, she brightened at the thought that at least additional revelations might follow her father’s meeting with the fugitive.

The following night, shortly after six-thirty, Penny and Mr. Parker presented themselves at the Orphans’Camp site. They had brought a basket of food, coffee, and a generous supply of cigarettes.

“What time did Davis promise to meet you?” Mr. Parker asked impatiently.

“He should be here now,” Penny returned. “I can’t imagine why he’s late.”

Another half hour elapsed, and still the fugitive did not appear. Mr. Parker paced restlessly beside the picnic table, becoming increasingly impatient.

“He’s probably waiting until after dark,” Penny declared optimistically.

Another hour elapsed. The shadows deepened and a chill wind blew from the river. Hungry mosquitoes kept Mr. Parker more than occupied as he sought to protect himself.

“Well, I’ve had enough of this!” he announced at last. “The man isn’t coming.”

“Oh, Dad, let’s wait just a little longer,” Penny coaxed. “I’m sure he meant to keep his promise.”

“Perhaps he did, although I’m inclined to think otherwise. At any rate, I am going home!”

Penny had no choice but to follow her father to the car. She could not understand Clem Davis’ failure to appear unless he had feared that he would be placed under arrest. While it was quite possible that the man might come to the picnic grounds the following night, she was afraid she would never see him again.

“I half expected this to happen,” Mr. Parker remarked as he drove toward Riverview. “Unless we can get Davis to swear to his story, we haven’t a scrap of real evidence against the Hoods.”

“We may learn something on the night of the thirteenth,” Penny said hopefully.

“Possibly, but I’m beginning to wonder if everything Davis told you may not have been for the purpose of deception.”

“He seemed sincere. I can’t believe he deliberately lied to me.”

Submerged in gloom, Penny had little to say during the swift ride into Riverview. She could not blame her father for feeling annoyed, because the trip had cost him two hours of valuable time. Clem Davis’failure to appear undoubtedly might deprive the
Star
of a spectacular scoop.

“Never mind,” Mr. Parker said to comfort her. “It wasn’t your fault. We’ll find another way to get our information.”

The car proceeded slowly through the downtown section of Riverview. Turning her head to read an electric sign, Penny’s attention was drawn to a man in a gray suit who was walking close to the curb.

“Dad, stop the car!” she cried, seizing his arm. “There he is now!”

“Clem Davis?” Mr. Parker demanded, swerving the automobile toward a vacant space near the sidewalk.

“No! No! Ben Bowman! I’m sure it is he!”

Springing from the car, Penny glanced up the street. She had alighted just in time to see the man in gray enter a telegraph office.

“What nonsense is this?” Mr. Parker inquired impatiently. “Why do you think the fellow is Bowman?”

“I’m sure he’s the same man I saw at Claymore. The one who tried to pass a forged cheque! Oh, please Dad, we can’t let him get away!”

Switching off the car ignition, Mr. Parker stepped to the curb.

“If it should prove to be Ben Bowman, nothing would please me better than to nab him,” he announced grimly. “But if you’ve made a mistake—”

“Come on,” Penny urged, seizing his hand. “We can talk about it later.”

Through the huge plate glass window of the telegraph office, the man in gray could be seen standing at one of the counters. His back was to the street and he appeared to be writing a message.

“I’m sure it’s Ben Bowman,” Penny said again. “Why not go inside and ask him if that’s his name?”

“I shall. But I’m warning you again, if you’ve made one of your little mistakes—”

“Go ahead, faint heart!” Penny chuckled, giving him a tiny push. “I’ll stay here by the door ready to stop him if he gets by you.”

With no appearance of haste, Mr. Parker sauntered into the telegraph office. Deliberately taking a place at the counter close beside the man in gray, he pretended to write a message. Actually, he studied his companion, and attempted to read the lengthy telegram which the other had composed. Before he could do so, the man handed the paper to a girl clerk.

“Get this off right away,” he instructed. “Send it collect.”

The clerk examined the message, having difficulty in reading the writing.

“This night letter is to be sent to Anthony Parker?” she inquired.

“That’s right,” the man agreed.

Mr. Parker waited for no more. Touching the man on the arm, he said distinctly:

“I’ll save you the trouble of sending that message. I am Anthony Parker.”

The man whirled around, his face plainly showing consternation.

“You are Ben Bowman I assume,” Mr. Parker said coolly. “I’ve long looked forward to meeting you.”

“You’ve got me mixed up with someone else,” the man mumbled, edging away. “My name’s Clark Edgewater. See, I signed it to this telegram.”

As proof of his contention, he pointed to the lengthy communication which lay on the counter. One glance satisfied Mr. Parker that it was another “crank” message.

“I don’t care how you sign your name,” he retorted. “You are Ben Bowman. We have a few matters to talk over.”

The man gazed uncertainly at Mr. Parker. He started to speak, then changed his mind. Turning, he made a sudden break for the exit.

“Stop him!” Mr. Parker shouted. “Don’t let him get away!”

Penny stood close to the door. As the man rushed toward her, she shot a bolt into place.

“Not quite so fast, Mr. Bowman,” she said, smiling. “We really must have a chat with you.”

CHAPTER 22

THE MAN IN GRAY

With the door locked, the man saw that he could not hope to escape. Accepting the situation, he regarded Mr. Parker and Penny with cold disdain.

“All right, my name is Ben Bowman,” he acknowledged, shrugging. “So what?”

“You’re the man who has been sending me collect messages for the past three months!” Mr. Parker accused.

“And what if I have? Is there any law against it? You run a lousy paper, and as a reader I have a right to complain!”

“But not at my expense. Another thing, I want to know what connection you’ve had with Clyde Blake.”

“Never heard of him.”

“Then you don’t own property in this city?”

“Nor anywhere else. Now if you’re through giving me the third degree, I’ll move on.”

“Not so fast,” interposed Penny, refusing to unbar the door, “if I’m not mistaken you’re the same man who is wanted at Claymore for forging a cheque.”

“Really, this is too much!” Ben Bowman exclaimed angrily. “Unless you permit me to pass, I shall protest to the police.”

“I see an officer just across the street,” Mr. Parker declared. “Penny, will you call him over?”

“Just a minute,” Ben Bowman interposed in an altered tone. “We can settle this ourselves. I’ll admit I was hasty in sending those messages—just a way to let off steam, I guess. If you’re willing to forget about it I’ll repay you for every dollar you spent.”

“I’m afraid I can’t forget that easily,” Mr. Parker retorted. “No, unless you’re willing to come clean about your connection with Clyde Blake I’ll have to call the police.”

“What do you want to know about him?”

“Is he acting as your real estate agent?”

“Certainly not.”

“You do know the man?”

“I’ve done a little work for him.”

“Didn’t he pay you to allow him to use your name on a deed?”

“He gave me twenty-five dollars to make out some papers for him. I only copied what he told me to write.”

“That’s all I want to know,” Mr. Parker said grimly. “Penny, call the policeman!”

“See here,” Bowman protested furiously, “you intimated that if I told what I knew about Blake you’d let me off. Why, you’re as yellow as that paper you run!”

“I make no deals with men of your stamp!” Mr. Parker retorted.

As Penny unlocked the door, Ben Bowman made a break for freedom. However, the editor was entirely prepared. Seizing the man, he held him until Penny could summon the policeman. Still struggling, Bowman was loaded into a patrol wagon and taken to police headquarters.

“I guess that earns me a nice little one hundred dollars!” Penny remarked as she and her father went to their own car. “Thanks, Dad.”

“You’re entirely welcome,” Mr. Parker grinned. “I never took greater pleasure in acknowledging a debt.”

“What’s your next move, Dad? Will you expose Clyde Blake in tomorrow’s
Star
?”

“I’m tempted to do it, Penny. The evidence still is rather flimsy, but even if Ben Bowman denies his story, I think we can prove our charges.”

“It’s a pity you can’t break the Hood yarn in the same edition,” Penny said musingly. “What a front page that would make!”

“It certainly would be a good three pennies worth,”Mr. Parker agreed. “Unfortunately, it will be many days before the Hoods are supposed to hold their meeting at the Tower.”

“But why wait? We could call that gathering ourselves!”

“Just how?”

“Simple as pie. All we would need to do would be to have the clock strike thirteen instead of twelve.”Penny glanced at her wrist watch and added persuasively:“We have several hours in which to work!”

“You’re completely crazy!” accused Mr. Parker. “Just how would you arrange to have the clock strike thirteen?”