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

As they went out through the main room he paused to speak with DeWitt, leaving an order that he was to be called at his home as soon as Jerry Livingston returned.

Mr. Parker raised his eyebrows as he saw where Penny had left the car.

“Haven’t I told you that the trucks need this space to load and unload?” he asked patiently. “There is a ten cent parking lot across the street.”

“But Dad, I haven’t ten cents to spare. The truth is, I spent almost every bit of my allowance today over at Corbin.”

“NO!” said Mr. Parker firmly. “NO!”

“No what?”

“Not a penny will you get ahead of time.”

“You misjudge me, Dad. I had no intention of even mentioning such a painful subject.”

They drove in silence for a few blocks and then Penny indicated the gasoline gauge on the dashboard.

“Why, it’s nearly empty!” she exclaimed. “We won’t have enough to reach home!”

“Well, get some,” said Mr. Parker automatically. “We don’t want to stall on the street.”

A flip of the steering wheel brought the car to a standstill in front of a gasoline pump.

“Fill it up,” ordered Penny.

While Mr. Parker read his newspaper, the attendant polished the windshield and checked the oil, finding it low. At a nod from Penny he added two quarts.

“That will be exactly two fifty-eight.”

Penny repeated the figure in a louder tone, giving her father a nudge. “Wake up, Dad. Two fifty-eight.”

Absently, Mr. Parker reached for his wallet. Not until the attendant brought the change did it dawn upon him that Penny had scored once more.

“Tricked again,” he groaned.

“Why, it was your own suggestion that we stop for gasoline,” Penny reminded him. “I shouldn’t have minded taking a chance myself. You see, the gauge is usually at least a gallon off.”

“Anyway, I would rather pay for it than have you siphon it out of my car.”

“Thanks for the present,” laughed Penny.

Dinner was waiting by the time they reached home. Afterwards, Penny helped Mrs. Weems with the dishes while her father mowed the lawn. Hearing the telephone ring he came to the kitchen door.

“Was that a call for me?” he asked.

“No, Dad, it was for Mrs. Weems.”

“Strange DeWitt doesn’t call,” Mr. Parker said. “I believe I’ll telephone him.”

After Mrs. Weems had finished with the phone he called the newspaper office only to be told that Jerry Livingston had not put in an appearance.

“At least he might have communicated with the office,” Mr. Parker said as he hung up the receiver.

He went back to lawn mowing but paused now and then to stare moodily toward the Kobalt river which wound through the valley far below the terrace. Penny finished drying the dishes and went outside to join him.

“You’re worried about Jerry, aren’t you?” she asked after a moment.

“Not exactly,” he replied. “But he should have been back long ago.”

“He never would have stayed away without good reason. We both know Jerry isn’t like that.”

“No, he’s either run into a big story, or he’s in trouble. When I sent him away this morning, I didn’t look upon the assignment as a particularly dangerous one.”

“And yet if he met those two seamen anything could have happened. They were tough customers, Dad.”

“I could notify the police if Jerry isn’t back within an hour or two,” Mr. Parker said slowly. “Still, I hate to do it.”

“Where did Jerry rent his boat, Dad?”

“I told him to get one at Griffith’s dock at twenty-third street.”

“Then why don’t we go there?” suggested Penny. “If he hasn’t come in we might rent a boat of our own and start a search.”

Mr. Parker debated and then nodded. “Bring a heavy coat,” he told her. “It may be cold on the river.”

Penny ran into the house after the garments and also took a flashlight from her father’s bureau drawer. When she hurried outdoors again her father had backed his own car from the garage and was waiting.

At the twenty-third street dock, Harry Griffith, owner of the boat house, answered their questions frankly. Yes, he told them, Jerry Livingston had rented a motor boat early that morning but had not returned it.

“I been worryin’ about that young feller,” he admitted, and then with a quick change of tone: “Say, you’re not Mr. Parker, are you?”

“Yes, that’s my name.”

“Then I got a letter here for you. I reckon maybe it explains what became of the young feller.”

The boatman took a greasy envelope from his trousers pocket and gave it to the editor.

“Where did you get this, Mr. Griffith?”

“A boy in a rowboat brought it up the river about two hours ago. He said the young feller gave him a dollar to deliver it to a Mr. Parker. But the kid was mixed up on the address, so I just held it here.”

“Dad, it must be from Jerry,” said Penny eagerly.

As her father opened the envelope, she held the flashlight close. In an almost illegible scrawl Jerry had written:

“Following up a hot tip. Think I’ve struck trail of key men. Taking off in boat. Expect to get back by nightfall unless Old Man Trouble catches up with me.”

Mr. Parker looked up from the message, his gaze meeting the frightened eyes of his daughter.

“Oh, Dad,” she said in a tone barely above a whisper,“it’s long after dark now. What do you think has become of Jerry?”

CHAPTER 18

OVER THE DRAWBRIDGE

Wasting no moments in useless conversation, Mr. Parker rented a fast motor boat and prevailed upon Harry Griffith to operate it for him. Guided by the stars and a half moon which was slowly rising over the treetops, the party swung down the river.

Riding with the current, they came before long to the locality where Penny and Jerry had first sighted the two seamen’s cruiser. But now there was no sign of a boat, either large or small.

At a speed which enabled the occupants to scrutinize the shoreline, the searching craft swept on. The river had never seemed more deserted.

“Jerry might have stopped anywhere along here,”Mr. Parker observed. “If he drew the boat into the bushes we haven’t a chance of finding him.”

They went on, coming presently to the Kippenberg estate. As they passed beneath the open drawbridge Penny noted how low it had been swung over the water. A boat with a high cabin could not possibly go through when the cantilevers were down.

Gazing upward, she saw a swinging red light at the entrance to the bridge. A lantern, no doubt, hung there to give warning to any motorist who might venture upon the private road.

“Thorny probably isn’t on duty at this hour,”Penny reflected. “But I should think an open drawbridge might prove more dangerous at night than in the daytime.”

As the bridge was lost to view beyond a bend in the river, she gave all her attention to watching the coves and inlets. Her father sat hunched over in the seat beside her, slapping at mosquitoes. Now and then he would switch on the flashlight to look at his watch.

Gradually the river had widened, so that it was possible to cover only one shore.

“We’ll search the other side on our return trip,”Mr. Parker said. “But it looks to me as if we’re not going to have any luck.”

As if to add to the discouragement of the party, dark clouds began to edge across the sky. One by one the stars were inked out. Penny’s light coat offered scant protection from the cold wind.

And then, Harry Griffith throttled down the motor and spun the wheel sharply to starboard. He leaned forward, trying to pierce the black void ahead of the boat’s bright beam.

“Looks like something over there,” he said pointing. “Might be a log. No, it’s a boat.”

“I can’t see anyone in it!” Penny cried. “It’s drifting with the current.”

“That looks like one of my boats, sure as you’re born,” Griffith declared, idling the engine. “The same I rented the young feller this morning.”

“But where is Jerry?” cried Penny.

Griffith maneuvered his own boat close to the one which drifted with the current. Mr. Parker was able to reach out and grasp the long rope dangling in the water.

“The flashlight, Penny!” he commanded.

She turned the beam on, and as it focused upon the floor of the boat, drew in her breath sharply. On the bottom, face downward, lay a man.

“It’s Jerry!” Penny cried. “Oh, Dad, he’s—”

“Steady,” said her father. “Steady.”

While Griffith held the two boats together, he stepped aboard the smaller one. He bent over the crumpled figure, feeling Jerry’s pulse, gently turning him upon his back.

“Is he alive, Dad?”

“His pulse is weak, but I can feel it. Yes, he’s breathing! Hold that light steady, Penny.”

“Dad, there’s blood on his head! I—I can see it trickling down.”

“He’s been struck with a club or some blunt object,”Mr. Parker said grimly. “He may have a fractured skull.”

“Oh, Dad!”

“Keep a grip on yourself,” her father ordered sternly, “It may not be as bad as I think, but we’ll have to rush him to the nearest doctor.”

“If it was me, I wouldn’t try to move him out of there,” advised Harry Griffith. “Leave him where he is. I’ll get aboard and we’ll take this boat in tow.”

Penny helped the man make their craft fast to the other boat, and then they both climbed aboard. Griffith started the engine and turned around in the river.

“I’ll head for Covert,” he said. “That’s about the closest place. There ought to be a good doctor in a town that size.”

While Griffith handled the boat, Penny and her father did what they could to make Jerry comfortable. They stripped off their coats, using one for a pillow, and the other to cover his body.

“Those two men he was sent to follow must be responsible for this!” Penny murmured. “How could they do such a brutal thing?”

“I’ll notify the police as soon as we touch shore,” her father said grimly. “We’ll search every cove and inlet until we find the ones responsible!”

As he spoke Mr. Parker bent lower to examine the wound on Jerry’s head. Blood had nearly stopped flowing and he was hopeful that it came from a flesh wound. He pressed a clean handkerchief against it and the young man stirred.

“How long do you suppose he’s been like this, Dad?”

“Hard to tell. An hour, maybe two hours.”

Presently, as the boat made full speed up the river, Jerry stirred once more. His lips moved but the words were indistinguishable.

“How far to Covert?” Mr. Parker asked anxiously.

“About four miles from this point,” Griffith flung over his shoulder. “It’s the next town above the Kippenberg estate. I’m making the best time I can.”

Jerry moved restlessly, his hands plucking at the coat which covered him.

“Flaming eyes,” he muttered. “Looking at me—looking at me—”

Penny and her father gazed at each other in startled dismay.

“He’s completely out of his head,” whispered Penny.

“He’s gone back to that other accident which happened last year,” nodded Mr. Parker. “The Vanishing Houseboat affair.”

“Jerry’s had more than his share of bad luck, Dad. Twice now on this same river, he’s met with disaster. And this time he may not come through.”

“I think he will if his skull hasn’t been fractured,”Mr. Parker told her encouragingly. “Listen!”

Jerry’s lips were moving again, and this time his words were more rational.

“Got to get word to the Chief,” they heard him mutter. “Got to get word—”

A long while after that Jerry remained perfectly quiet. Suddenly arousing, his eyes opened wide and he struggled to sit up. Mr. Parker gently pressed him back.

“Where am I?” Jerry muttered. “Let me out of here! Let me out!”

“Quiet, Jerry,” soothed Mr. Parker. “You’re with friends.”

The reporter’s tense grip on the editor’s hand relaxed. “That you, Chief?”

“Yes, Jerry. Just lie quiet. We’ll have you to a doctor in a few more minutes.”

“Doctor! I don’t need any doctor,” he protested, trying once more to sit up. “What happened anyway?”

“That’s what we would like to know.”

“Can’t you remember anything, Jerry?” Penny asked. “You went out on the river to try to trace those two men in the cruiser.”

“Oh, it’s coming back to me now. I ran into their boat down by Cranberry Cove. They tied up there.”

“And then what happened?” Penny demanded, as Jerry paused.

“I saw ’em walk ashore. Thought I would follow so I tied up my boat, too. They started off through the trees. Pretty soon they met a third man, a well dressed fellow, educated too.”

“Did you hear any of their conversation?” Mr. Parker questioned.

“I heard Kippenberg’s name mentioned. That caught my interest so I crept closer. Must have given myself away because that’s about the last I remember. A ton of dynamite seemed to explode in my head. And here I am.”