“Two?” inquired Penny. “What are they, Mr. Saal?”
“They don’t make sense. The words are For One.”
“I once saw an octopus tattoo such as you describe,” declared Penny. “But I distinctly recall that the design used only a single word. It was One.”
“Is that so?” inquired Mr. Saal. “Maybe the tattoo isn’t as uncommon as I thought. But I never saw one like it before.”
“I wonder what can be the significance of the words?”
“I was asking my customer about it. He pretended he didn’t know, but I figure maybe he and some buddies had a sentence tattooed on ’em.”
“You mean that if one were able to read several tattoos together, the words would make sense?”
“That’s right,” nodded Mr. Saal. “I don’t know about this octopus tattoo, but I figure it may have been that way.”
“Did your customer have any other tattoos on his body?” Penny questioned. “An anchor, for instance?”
“Didn’t notice ’em if he did.”
“I suppose it takes a long while to remove a tattoo. Does your customer come often?”
“Every Tuesday and Thursday night. He complains because I don’t do the work faster, but I tell him if he wants a good job it has to be done carefully.”
Before Penny could ask another question, two young sailors swaggered into the shop. Ellis Saal, scenting business, immediately arose.
“Be careful what you write up,” he warned as he left her. “There’s been a lot of articles on tattooin’, but not a one that’s right. It just ain’t possible for a reporter to write a true story unless it’s about a murder or a fire!”
“I’ll be careful,” promised Penny.
Leaving the shop, she walked slowly to her parked car. The information obtained from the tattoo artist both excited and mystified her.
“I don’t believe Mr. Saal could have been mistaken about the words which were incorporated in the design,” she thought. “And I’m equally certain I wasn’t mistaken about Anchor Joe’s tattoo. It had only the single word, ‘One.’”
Mr. Saal’s declaration that his customer was not the possessor of a tattooed anchor caused Penny to wonder if the person could be Joe Landa. However, the man was wanted by government agents and it seemed reasonable to believe that he might seek to remove tell-tale markings.
“I know what I’ll do,” she decided. “Thursday night I’ll watch Mr. Saal’s shop. In that way I may be able to learn the identity of his mysterious customer!”
CHAPTER 18
PAULETTA’S EXPLANATION
Penny compressed the facts given her by Ellis Saal into a brief, lively feature story for the Weekly Times. She was careful not to divulge that the man had removed a tattoo from a customer, but to Louise she confided the entire story.
“All unwittingly, Mr. Saal gave me just the clue I need,” she declared enthusiastically. “It will be a gigantic step forward if I learn the identity of his mysterious customer.”
“What’s to be gained by it?” asked Louise as she slugged a story and speared it on a hook. “What will be proven?”
“Well, if I’m ever going to solve the mystery I must gather every fact I can,” Penny said defensively. “I aim to learn the meaning of those strange tattoos and, above all, the reason why John Munn was pushed from the bridge.”
“You have your work cut out for you,” responded Louise dryly.
“But Mr. Saal’s information helps. You remember I told you that John Munn’s tattoo bore the word All. Anchor Joe’s was exactly the same except for the word, One. And now Ellis Saal has a customer with two words on his back: For One. Why, I believe I have it!”
Penny sprang from her chair, eyes dancing with excitement.
“You have what?” asked Louise calmly.
“It came to me like a flash—the meaning of those tattooed words! If we haven’t been dumb!”
“Kindly stop jumping around, and explain.”
“Mr. Saal told me he thought several sailors might have had a sentence incorporated in their tattoo. That is, only a word or two was used in each design, but taken as a whole it would make sense.”
“And you think you have the phrase?”
“I do, Louise! Why couldn’t it be: All for one, one for all?”
“If the men were close friends, that would be fairly logical. But the words we have to juggle don’t make such a sentence, Penny.”
“Obviously there must be a fourth sailor whose tattoo includes the words, ‘for all,’” argued Penny. “Then it would fit perfectly.”
“Just because four men were pals, you think they would have such nonsense tattooed on their backs?”
“That’s my theory.”
“If you’re right, then the mystery is solved.”
“Far from it,” corrected Penny. “I haven’t learned who pushed John Munn from the bridge or why. You remember how Anchor Joe talked about someone who had ‘ratted’? The four of them must have been in on a scheme, and one man betrayed his comrades.”
“Better bridle that imagination before it takes you for too wild a ride,” chuckled Louise.
“Then you think there’s nothing to my theory?”Penny demanded in an injured tone.
“I think that if you speculate upon it much longer we’ll never get any work done,” Louise replied, turning once more to her typewriter. “These headlines must be composed if ever we expect to get another paper on the street.”
Disappointed that her chum did not take the matter more seriously, Penny went to consult Old Horney in the composing room. The pressman had proven to be worth many times the small salary which the girls paid him. Not only had he made the rotary presses ready for service, but he had cleaned and oiled every useable piece of machinery in the building. Eagerly he awaited the day when Penny would print the Weekly in her own plant.
“Everything’s all set,” he told her with a worshipful grin. “Whenever you give the word, we can go to press.”
“That’s fine,” Penny praised. “Louise and I have been having a few difficulties, financial and otherwise. But I hope it won’t be long now.”
She talked with Old Horney about various technical problems, then returned to her desk. Slipping a sheet of paper into her typewriter, she composed a letter to a well known steamship, the Dorasky.
Slipping it into her pocket, she opened the door of Louise’s office.
“Do you mind staying here alone for awhile?”
“No, of course not. Where are you going?”
“To mail an important letter. Then I want to drive out to Fenestra’s farm and see Mrs. Weems.”
“I’ll look after everything until you get back,”Louise promised. She glanced curiously at the letter but did not ask to whom it was directed.
Penny dropped the stamped envelope into a convenient corner mailbox, and then drove toward the outskirts of the city. Nearing Drexel Boulevard it suddenly occurred to her that she never had found time to revisit Matthew Judson’s home.
“Pauletta owes me an explanation for the way she acted the other day,” she thought. “I have a notion to stop and see if she’s alone.”
Penny impulsively spun the wheel, and followed the boulevard to the Judson home. The iron gate stood open. She drove through, up the curve of cement to the house.
In response to her knock, an untidy colored maid admitted her to a dark, dusty living room. As she awaited Pauletta, her wandering gaze noted a number of significant details. The walls had not been decorated in many years, upholstered furniture had assumed a moth-eaten appearance, and the entire room seemed spiritless.
Pauletta came slowly down the circular stairway. She hesitated as she recognized Penny, but could not retreat.
“How do you do,” she said somewhat stiffly. “Nice of you to call.”
“I think you know why I came,” said Penny. “We were unable to talk when I was here before.”
“I’ve told you all there was to it,” Pauletta declared, seatin
g herself opposite the girl. “Frankly, I can’t see that the affair is any of your concern. I wore the disguise because I didn’t wish to be recognized on board the Goodtime.”
“Your explanation isn’t very satisfactory, I’m afraid. Tillie Fellows is staying at our home now.”
“What of it?”
“She was robbed that night on the boat.”
“We discussed it before,” Miss Judson said in exasperation. “You insult me by suggesting that I may have snatched the girl’s pocketbook! Why should I steal when my father is wealthy? I’ve always had everything I want.”
“I should like very much to believe you,” said Penny quietly. “But unless you are willing to offer a complete explanation, I am afraid I can’t.”
“Very well, if I must, I’ll tell,” Miss Judson replied angrily. “You may have read in the newspapers that I am engaged to marry Major Howard Atchley?”
“The story escaped me.”
“I admire Howard very much,” resumed Pauletta, still in an icy tone. “He comes from an excellent family, is well-to-do, and in Father’s opinion will make me a good husband.”
“Your opinion differs?” Penny inquired softly.
“I do not love Howard, and I never shall. On the night you saw me aboard the Goodtime I had gone with another friend of mine, Carl Feldman, intending to enjoy the excursion trip.”
“Your father knew nothing about it?”
“I told him I was going with another girl.”
“Oh, I see.”
“There was nothing wrong about it,” Pauletta said irritably. “But I’m fairly well known. I realized that if I were recognized, Father or Howard might learn about it. Then there would be trouble, for Howard is a very jealous person.”
“So you resorted to the wig and glasses?”
“Yes, that was my sole reason. Major Atchley met me at the boat. Before joining him I threw the bundle of clothing into the river. Now are you satisfied with my explanation?”
“I am,” said Penny. “In fact, I never believed that you had robbed Tillie.”
“You certainly acted that way.”
“Perhaps, I only wanted to learn the truth.”
Miss Judson did not reply. Her cold stare made it evident that she disliked Penny and regarded her as a meddler.
“Is there anything else you wish to know?” she asked after a lengthy silence.
“Nothing, Miss Judson. I was only thinking that I would like to help you and your father.”
“Thank you. We don’t require assistance.”
“Perhaps you don’t,” said Penny, “but your father needs friends. He admitted to me that if it weren’t for you he would be tempted to end everything.”
The words stunned Pauletta. “Father never said that!” she exclaimed.
“He did.”
“I can’t believe it. Why, Father’s the most cheerful person in the world!”
“In your presence, possibly. The loss of the Morning Press must have been a heavy blow to him.”
“Father wasn’t forced to give up the paper,” Pauletta protested. “He did it because he was tired of working so hard.”
“Was that what he told you?”
“Why, yes. I know of no other reason.”
“The general belief seems to be that your father speculated on the stock market, losing large sums of money.”
“That can’t be true,” denied Pauletta. “To my knowledge Father never gambled. He may have bought a few stocks from time to time, but only for investment.”
“Then you feel sure he did not dispose of the Press because he needed money?”
Pauletta hesitated before she answered. “It never occurred to me before, but Father has been rather close the past year. I thought it was sheer carelessness when he let this place run down. He always gave me everything I wanted.”
“Why does he favor your marriage to the Major?”
“Perhaps money does enter into it,” Pauletta said slowly. “Many times Father has reminded me that I would have every luxury as Howard’s wife.”
“Your friend Carl is poor?”
“He has a fairly good position, but not much money. Father always seemed to like Carl. That was why I couldn’t understand when he asked me not to see him again.”
“I am sure your father thinks only of your welfare.”
“But I would rather marry Carl and be poor always than to have riches with Howard.”
“You’ve not told your father that?”
“Why, no. It never occurred to me that money had influenced him.”
“There’s another rumor,” said Penny. “I suppose I shouldn’t mention it.”
“I wish you would.”
“I’ve heard it said that your father disposed of the Press because he had been blackmailed.”
“By whom?”
“I haven’t the slightest idea. It was only a rumor.”
“There may be truth in it,” Pauletta replied in a low voice. “You’ve opened my eyes, Miss Parker. I’ve been very blind.”
“Then you think someone may have forced your father to pay money?”
“I don’t know. But Father has acted strangely ever since he gave up the paper. Once a month, on the fourth, he receives a visit from a queer looking man. Always he tries to get me out of the house before the fellow comes.”
“Don’t you know his name?”
“No, Father has never told me. The man seldom stays longer than ten minutes.”
“Can you describe him?”
“Not very well because I never saw him at close range. I should say he’s middle-aged, dark and cruel looking. Not at all the sort Father would choose for a friend.”
“Your father offers no explanation as to why the man comes?”
“None. He refuses to discuss the subject. I’ve noticed, though, that for days after the fellow leaves he’s very nervous and uneasy.”
“Excuse me for asking so many questions, Miss Judson, but do you know of any reason why your father might be blackmailed?”
“No, I don’t. I am sure he’s never been involved in anything dishonorable.”
Penny had no more to tell, and she was convinced that Pauletta had given a truthful account of the situation. Feeling that she was not particularly welcome, she arose to leave.
“I am glad you came,” Pauletta said, extending her hand. “Please excuse my rudeness. There were so many things I failed to understand.”
“You must forgive me, too,” replied Penny. “I didn’t mean to meddle. I truly want to help your father.”
“I wish I could help him, too,” said Pauletta in a troubled voice. “In the past I fear I’ve been very selfish and inconsiderate.”
“There’s a way to help if you’re willing to do it.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You say that on the fourth of each month a man comes here to see your father. If you tried could you learn his name?”
“I might drop in upon them at an awkward moment, compelling Father to introduce me.”
“Are you willing to do it?”
“Why, yes, but I fail to see what will be gained.”
“Perhaps nothing, perhaps a great deal,” replied Penny. “If the man is a blackmailer, it should help for us to know his name.”
“I’ll learn what I can.”
“Then until the fourth, good-bye. And please, not a word to Mr. Judson. We must work secretly.”
Reflecting upon the information given her by Pauletta, Penny drove on toward Peter Fenestra’s home. A quarter of a mile away she parked the car, and set off afoot, hoping to attract no attention should the owner be at home.
It was well that she took the precaution. She was three hundred yards from the grounds when suddenly she saw a man emerge from behind the barn. At a glance she observed that he was too short to be Peter Fenestra.
As Penny paused to watch, the man moved stealthily across the yard to the front door of the farmhouse. His face turned slightly in her directi
on, and she recognized Anchor Joe.
“What can he be doing here?” she thought in amazement.
The question soon was answered. Glancing quickly about, Anchor Joe dropped a white envelope on the front porch. Then he pounded several times on the door before darting to the shelter of the lilac bushes.
CHAPTER 19
MRS. WEEMS’ REPORT
Several minutes elapsed before the door was opened by Peter Fenestra. He glanced alertly about the yard, and then his gaze fell upon the envelope. Penny heard him mutter to himself as he picked it up.
Fenestra’s face became convulsed with rage as he tore open the flap and saw the message. Still muttering, he crumpled the paper and thrust it into his pocket. Entering the house, he slammed the door.
With Peter at home Penny dared not try to see Mrs. Weems. As she hesitated, debating, Anchor Joe came from his hiding place. He did not see the girl.
“Joe!” she called softly.
The sailor turned. Recognizing her, he ran in the opposite direction across the yard. Keeping low behind a hedge, he started toward the river.
“Joe! Come back!” Penny called again.
Paying no heed, the sailor fled through the fields. Soon he was hidden by tall trees and bushes.
Penny felt deeply disturbed, wondering if Anchor Joe made a practice of watching the Fenestra home. She was inclined to believe that this had not been his first visit there.
Unexpectedly the farmhouse door swung open. Penny barely had time to step behind a large maple before Peter Fenestra came down the path. He went directly to the barn, and a few minutes later backed out his automobile.
“Good!” thought Penny. “He’s likely driving to Riverview. Now I can talk to Mrs. Weems without fear of interruption.”
As soon as the car had disappeared down the main road, she ran to the kitchen door and knocked. When it was not opened immediately, she thrust her head inside and called the housekeeper’s name.
“Here I am,” answered Mrs. Weems, hurrying from the dining room. “I hope you’ve come to take me home, Penny Parker!”
“No, only to receive your report.” Penny sank into a chair beside the stove. “You don’t act very pleased with your new job.”
“It’s a dreadful place. I was crazy to say I would stay here.”
The Penny Parker Megapack: 15 Complete Novels Page 50
