“I’m afraid I have,” Penny admitted ruefully. “I’ve certainly had no luck.”
Mose shifted the market basket to his other hand. “Dat ole ghost ain’t been around so much lately,” he explained. “I comes by dis spot half an hour ago on my way to de sto’ to get some victuals. Dere wasn’t no ghost around den either. If dere had a been I’d have seen him, you kin be suah o’ dat. I was mighty skittish and ready to make mahself absent in about two shakes.”
“And you didn’t see a thing?” inquired Penny.
“Well now, I can’t rightly say dat,” Old Mose corrected. “I didn’t see no ghost but I did see a taxicab.”
“Ours, I suppose.”
“Not dis one, Miss. De cab I see was a yelleh one.”
The information interested Penny. “Which way was it going, Mose?” she asked quickly.
“It wasn’t goin’, Miss Penny. It was standin’ right at de gate. Den I sees two dark lookin’ white men git out and go into de big house.”
“You did?” Penny demanded eagerly. “Then what happened? Did the cab drive away?”
“It waited ’till de two men came back, ’cept when dey comes back dere is three of ’em!”
“Three men?” Penny cried, her excitement mounting. “What did the third man look like, Mose? Think hard! It’s very important.”
“Well,” said Mose, “he was tall and he had something in his hand. A funny lookin’ little satchel. I guess you calls it a quick-case.”
“You don’t mean a brief case?”
“Yes, dat’s it,” Mose grinned. “Anyways, dey all gits in de taxicab and off dey snorts. And dat’s all I sees. Dere wasn’t no ghost.”
The colored man’s rambling information served to confirm Penny’s own suspicions. Mrs. Botts had lied. A roomer known as Lester Jones had been held at the house and later hustled away. Perhaps the man was her father!
“Mose,” she cried, “the person you saw may have been Dad! Did it look like him?”
“Why, now yo’ speaks of it, dere was somethin’about dat man dat look like Mr. Parker,” the colored man agreed. “Kinda de way he walked. I couldn’t see his face cause he kept it sort o’ tucked down in his collar.”
“All the same, it must have been Dad!” Penny exclaimed. “The brief case practically proves it! Tell me, which way did the cab go?”
“Straight down de road,” said Mose, pointing. “But de car’s been gone a long time now. If you figures on catchin’ dose men, you all bettah be travelin’.”
CHAPTER 20
ACCUSATIONS
Alarmed and excited by Mose Johnson’s revelation, Penny glanced about for the policeman who had been assigned to watch the Deming mansion. The officer had taken cover somewhere and was not to be seen.
“Joe, drive as fast as you can to the airplane spotting station!” she ordered the cabman. “I’ll telephone the police station from there.”
As the taxi bounced along over the frozen road, the girls kept close watch for the yellow cab Mose Johnson had mentioned. They did not expect to overtake it. If the old colored man’s story was accurate, the taxi bearing Mr. Parker had left the mansion at least a half hour earlier.
“Dad must have been spirited away immediately after I talked to him!” Penny said. “He’s been drugged or something! Otherwise he would have known me.”
“But according to Mose, your father must have gone willingly with those men,” Louise returned.
“That’s the queer part.”
“Of course, you’re not certain the man is your father.”
“Yes, I am!” Penny insisted. “I was almost sure of it earlier this evening. Now I know! Oh, Lou, something terrible has happened to Dad!”
Louise drew her chum into the hollow of her arm. “Brace up!” she said sternly. “You’re not going to cave in now, are you?”
Penny’s slumping shoulders stiffened. She brushed away a tear. “Of course I’m not going to cave in!” she replied indignantly. “I’ll find Dad—tonight, too!”
Enroute to the airplane spotting station, the cab neither met nor passed any vehicle. Leaving Louise in the taxi, Penny clattered up the tower steps and burst into the overheated room where Salt Sommers was making out a report. Her words fairly tumbled over one another as she told him what had happened.
“Will you notify police for me?” she pleaded.
“Of course,” Salt assured her, reaching for a telephone. “My relief’s due in five minutes now, so I’ll be free to join in the search.”
While the photographer waited impatiently for a connection, Penny asked him if he had seen a yellow taxi pass the tower.
“Not since I’ve been on duty. The cab must have taken another road.”
Salt completed the call to the Riverview Police Station and was told that every radio-equipped cruiser in the city would be ordered to watch for the yellow cab. As he hung up the receiver, a low humming sound was heard outside the tower.
“Listen!” commanded Salt. “A plane!”
Distinctly they both could hear the roar of a motor to the eastward.
“That’s an unidentified ship,” Salt declared, reaching for another telephone. Taking down the receiver he said tersely: “Army Flash,” and went on to report the position of the passing airplane.
Penny had gone to the doorway. She could see the wing lights of the passing ship. As she watched, the lights descended in a steep glide.
“Salt!” she called. “The plane is landing!”
The photographer darted to the platform to see for himself. “You’re right!” he exclaimed. “It’s coming down at the Deming estate!”
“Mr. Deming is due home tonight from the East,”Penny added. “That must be his plane.”
Salt went inside to complete his report to headquarters. As he rejoined Penny, they saw a man trudging along the road toward the tower.
“My relief,” said the photographer. “I’m free to go.”
Gathering up his belongings, he followed Penny to the waiting taxicab. There a brief conference was held. The girls were in favor of searching for the yellow taxi, but Salt pointed out that the chance of finding it was a slim one. He proposed that they return to the mansion and try to force information from Mrs. Botts.
“Detective Fuller had no luck,” replied Penny. “She has one story and she sticks to it. Her one fear is that she’ll lose her job.”
“Then this is the time to make things merry for her!” urged the photographer. “If Mr. Deming just arrived home, we’ll toss a few firebrands around and find out what he has to say!”
The suggestion appealed to Penny. From the first she had distrusted Mrs. Botts and felt that police had been entirely too lenient with her.
“All right, let’s go!” she agreed. “If Mrs. Botts loses her job, I’m sure it’s no more than she deserves.”
Joe drove the party once more to the Deming mansion. No policeman was in evidence near the premises. Actually he had gone to the crossroads store to report to his superiors the arrival of Mr. Deming’s airplane, but at the moment Penny assumed the man was neglecting his duties.
“If this case ever is solved, we must do it ourselves!” she declared, thumping on the front door. “I’m in no mood to take any slippery answers from Mrs. Botts!”
After a long delay the door was opened by the caretaker. Recognizing Penny and her friends, the woman sought to lock them out.
“Oh, no you don’t!” said Salt, pushing her firmly aside. “We want to see Mr. Deming.”
“He’s not here,” Mrs. Botts replied nervously. “Please leave me alone. Go away!”
Ignoring the plea, Penny, Louise, and the photographer walked boldly into the living room. A fire burned in the grate and there were fresh flowers on the table.
“Where is Mr. Deming?” asked Salt in a loud voice.
Footsteps sounded on the circular stairway. A portly, bald-headed man with a pleasant face came heavily down the steps.
“Did someone ask for me?” he inquire
d.
“You’re Mr. Deming?” asked Salt.
“I am. Flew in from New York about ten minutes ago and was just changing my clothes. What may I do for you?”
“I’ve been trying to tell these folks you can’t see them tonight, Mr. Deming,” broke in Mrs. Botts. “You’re too tired.”
“Nonsense,” replied the mansion owner impatiently. “Sit down by the fire, everyone. Tell me what brought you here.”
Mrs. Botts began to edge toward the kitchen door. Observing the action, Salt called sharply:
“Don’t go, Mrs. Botts. We want to talk to you in particular.”
“I’ve nothing to say,” the caretaker retorted tartly.
“Sit down, Mrs. Botts,” ordered her employer. “For some reason you have seemed very nervous since I arrived home tonight.”
“It was upsetting to get your telegram so late,”Mrs. Botts mumbled, sinking down on the sofa.
“Mr. Deming,” began Penny, “a great deal has happened here tonight.”
“I intended to tell you about it myself,” interrupted Mrs. Botts, addressing her employer. “I’ve not had a chance.”
“Be quiet, please,” commanded Mr. Deming. “Do continue, Miss—”
“Parker,” supplied Penny. She introduced Salt and Louise, then resumed her story.
As the tale unfolded, Mr. Deming listened with increasing amazement. Now and then he focused his gaze upon the crestfallen Mrs. Botts, but he did not speak until Penny had finished.
“This is a very serious charge you have made against my housekeeper,” he said then. “Mrs. Botts, what have you to say?”
“There’s not a word of truth in it!” the woman cried. “Why, I’ve worked for you ten years, Mr. Deming. I’ve been a loyal, faithful servant. Why should I deceive you by taking a stranger into the house?”
“It does seem fantastic,” replied the perplexed Mr. Deming. “Miss Parker, what proof have you that your accusations are true?”
“The proof of my own eyesight,” Penny said quietly. “For that matter, a number of persons saw the ghost wandering about the grounds.”
Mrs. Botts tossed her head. “I’ve already explained that part. Frequently when I go outdoors, I put on your old white bathrobe, Mr. Deming. It’s warmer than my coat.”
“The ghost happened to be a man,” Penny said. “And here is something you don’t know, Mrs. Botts. I was in this house earlier this evening while you were away. I talked with your mysterious roomer, and I’m satisfied it was my father.”
“So you were here!” Mrs. Botts cried angrily. “Mr. Deming, this girl opened the telegram you addressed to me!”
“I did indeed,” admitted Penny, unabashed.
Mr. Deming arose and walking over to the fire, stood with his back to it. “I confess I don’t know what to say,” he said. “I’ve never had reason to distrust Mrs. Botts.”
“Thank you, sir.” The housekeeper smiled triumphantly.
Penny realized that Mr. Deming was on the verge of swinging to Mrs. Botts’ side. So far the interview had gained nothing. She had told the entire story. There was no further information she could add.
“I suppose we may as well go,” she said, looking miserably at Salt.
Penny arose. Suddenly her eyes lighted upon a small object lying half hidden between the cushions of the sofa. Before Mrs. Botts realized what she was about, she had pounced upon it.
“Dad’s spectacle case!” she cried triumphantly.
Opening the lid, she held up a pair of dark horn-rimmed glasses.
“I’m sure I don’t know where the case came from,”Mrs. Botts stammered.
“When Dad reads on the sofa at home, he often loses his case between the cushions!” Penny went on excitedly. “Mrs. Botts, you thought you were very clever getting him away from here and removing all the evidence!”
“A salesman who wore glasses was here last week—” the housekeeper began weakly.
“You can’t talk yourself out of this,” Penny cut her short, “Mr. Deming, let me show you something.”
She reopened the lid of the case and pointed to the initials “A. P.” engraved in gold letters.
“Anthony Parker,” she said impressively. “Dad had them stamped there because he lost the case so many times. Does this prove my story?”
“It does,” said Mr. Deming. Sternly he faced the housekeeper. “Mrs. Botts, you have deeply humiliated me. I shall turn you over to the police.”
Mrs. Botts began to weep. Stumbling across the room, she clutched her employer’s arm.
“Please don’t turn me away from here,” she pleaded. “Just give me a chance and I’ll explain everything. Please, Mr. Deming! This time I promise to tell the truth!”
CHAPTER 21
MRS. BOTTS’ REVELATION
“Very well, tell your story,” Mr. Deming bade the housekeeper. “What do you know about Mr. Parker’s disappearance?”
“It was just like I said,” Mrs. Botts began in an aggrieved voice. “I was driving not far from the railroad station when I saw the auto accident.”
“You say you were driving?” Mr. Deming interposed. “In whose car, may I ask?”
“I used yours, Mr. Deming. I didn’t think you would care.”
“We’ll skip that. Go on with your story.”
“Well, I saw the accident. A coupe driven by a young man, crowded Mr. Parker’s car off the road.”
“Purposely?” asked Penny.
“I don’t know. Two men were in the car and they were speeding. I read part of the license number too. It was F-215 something.”
“Why didn’t you give this information to the police immediately?” demanded Mr. Deming.
“I’m trying to explain. I stopped my car—your car, I mean. Mr. Parker seemed stunned so I offered to take him to the hospital. Of course at that time I didn’t know who he was.”
“Dad didn’t seem much hurt?” Penny inquired quickly.
“He had a few scratches, but nothing serious. We started for the hospital. Before we got there Mr. Parker changed his mind and decided he didn’t want to go. He asked me to take him to a hotel or a rooming house.”
“How strange!” exclaimed Penny. “Why didn’t he ask to go home?”
“Because he didn’t remember he had a home,” Mrs. Botts replied. “I guess the accident must have stunned him. Anyway, he said his name was Lester Jones. Since he wanted a room and was willing to pay, I figured I could bring him here.”
“So you turned my home into a hotel,” Mr. Deming remarked rather grimly.
“I—I didn’t think you would be back this winter. I wouldn’t have done it, Mr. Deming, only I needed extra money. My sister in Kansas has been sick and I’ve had to send her funds.”
“Mrs. Botts, I’ve always paid you well,” her employer responded. “Had you told me you needed more money, I would have assisted you. But go on.”
“Well, I brought Mr. Parker here and gave him a room. Right off I noticed how queer he acted. He didn’t seem to be sure who he was, and he kept going through some papers he carried in a portfolio, trying to puzzle things out.”
“All this while you made no attempt to contact police?” Mr. Deming questioned severely.
“I was wondering what to do when I saw a picture of Mr. Parker in the paper.”
“And then you dropped an unsigned letter in my mailbox?” Penny probed.
Mrs. Botts knew that the net was closing tightly about her. Although she tried to slant her story in such a way that she would not appear too much at fault, the facts remained bald and ugly.
“Yes, I left a note at your house,” she acknowledged reluctantly. “Later I telephoned and made an appointment to meet you at the cemetery.”
“Why didn’t you go through with it?” asked Penny. “Were you afraid?”
“I began to realize I might be held for something I never intended to do. Folks started to watch this house. I tried to keep my roomer out of sight, but he’d do such queer things.”
<
br /> “Such as stroll in the garden at night,” supplied Penny.
“Yes, I felt sorry for the poor man. He had such dreadful headaches and was so bewildered.”
“Evidently you weren’t sorry enough to tell him who he was,” reprimanded Mr. Deming. “Really Mrs. Botts, I can’t understand why you acted as you did.”
“I just kept getting in deeper and deeper,” the housekeeper whined. “Mr. Parker paid me three dollars a day for his room and board. It didn’t seem wrong to take the money as long as he was satisfied.”
“Where is my father now?” Penny broke in. “That’s the important thing.”
Mrs. Botts regarded the girl with a trace of her former arrogance. “I don’t know what became of Mr. Parker after he left here,” she said coldly.
“You sent him away when you knew Mr. Deming was coming home!” Penny accused. “You thought you could keep the truth from your employer!”
“And I would have too, if it hadn’t been for you!”Mrs. Botts flared. “I’ve not done any harm, but you’ve made a lot out of it, and now I’ll be discharged.”
“You are quite right about that,” agreed Mr. Deming in a quiet voice. “However, there’s far more at stake than a job, Mrs. Botts. Even now you don’t seem to realize the seriousness of your offense.”
“You won’t turn me over to the police, will you, Mr. Deming?”
“It will not be in my hands to decide your fate. I strongly advise you to tell everything you know. Where did Mr. Parker go when he left here?”
“I’ve no idea.” Mrs. Botts covered her face. “Oh, leave me alone—don’t ask me any more questions. My head buzzes.”
“A taxicab with two men in it was seen at the door earlier this evening,” Penny went on relentlessly. “What have you to say about that?”
“They were friends who came for Mr. Parker.”
“Your friends?”
“Well, no, I found the names and addresses in Mr. Parker’s brief case. They were men in the tire business.”
This latest scrap of information fairly stunned Penny. As she well knew, her father’s portfolio contained only evidence pertaining to the tire-theft case.
“Who were the men?” she demanded.
“One was named Kurt Mollinberg—Ropes Mollinberg his friend called him. I forget the other.”
The Penny Parker Megapack: 15 Complete Novels Page 105
