The Penny Parker Megapack: 15 Complete Novels

by Mildred Benson

  All morning the obituaries kept coming in, and then there were the hospitals to call for accident reports, and the weather bureau. After lunch, a reporter was needed to interview a famous actress who had arrived in Riverview for a personal appearance. It was just the story Penny wanted to try. She knew she could do it well, for in months past, she frequently had contributed special feature stories to the paper.

  Mr. DeWitt’s gaze focused upon her for an instant, but he passed her by.

  “Elda,” he said, and she went quickly to his desk to receive instructions.

  Elda was gone a long while on the assignment. When she returned in the afternoon, she spent nearly two hours typing the interview. Several times Editor DeWitt glanced impatiently at her, and finally he said:“Let’s have a start on that story, Elda. You’ve been fussing with it long enough.”

  She gave it to him. As Mr. DeWitt read, he used his pencil to mark out large blocks of what had been written. But as he gave the story to a copy reader who would write the headline, he said: “Give her a byline.”

  Elda heard and grinned from ear to ear. A byline meant that a caption directly under the headline would proclaim: “By Elda Hunt.”

  Penny, who also heard, could not know that Mr. DeWitt had granted the byline only because it was customary with a personal interview story. She felt even more depressed than before.

  “See if you can find a picture of this actress in the photography room,” DeWitt instructed Elda. “Salt Sommers took one this morning, but it hasn’t come up yet.”

  With a swishing of skirts, for she now was in a fine mood, Elda disappeared down the corridor. Fifteen minutes elapsed. Penny, busy writing hand-outs and obituaries, had forgotten about her entirely, until Mr. DeWitt summoned her to his desk.

  “See if you can find out what became of Elda,” he said in exasperation. “Tell her we’d like to have that picture for today’s paper.”

  Penny went quickly toward the photography room. The door was closed. As she opened it, she was startled half out of her wits by hearing a shrill scream. The cry unmistakably came from an inner room of the photography studio and was Elda’s voice. At the same instant, a gust of cool air struck Penny’s face.

  “Elda!” she called in alarm.

  “Here,” came the girl’s muffled voice from the inner room.

  Fearing the worst, Penny darted through the doorway. Elda had collapsed in a chair, her face white with terror. Wordlessly, she pointed toward the ceiling.

  Penny gazed up but could see nothing amiss. Warm sunshine was pouring through the closed skylight which covered half the ceiling area.

  “What ails you, Elda?” she asked. “Why did you scream?”

  “The skylight!”

  “What about the skylight?” Penny demanded with increasing impatience. “I can’t see anything wrong with it.”

  “Only a moment ago I saw a shadow there,” Elda whispered in awe.

  “A shadow!” Penny was tempted to laugh. “What sort of shadow?”

  “I—I can’t describe it. But it must have been a human shadow. I think a man was crouching there.”

  “Nonsense, you must have imagined it.”

  “But I didn’t,” Elda insisted indignantly. “I saw it just before you opened the door.”

  “Did the skylight open?”

  “Not that I saw.”

  Recalling the cool gust of wind that had struck her face, Penny took thought. Was it possible that Elda actually had seen someone crouching on the skylight? However, the idea seemed fantastic. She could think of no reason why any person would hide on the roof above the photography room.

  “Oh, snap out of it, Elda,” she said carelessly. “Even if you did see a shadow, what of it?”

  “It was a man, I tell you!”

  “A workman perhaps. Mr. DeWitt sent me to tell you he was in a hurry for that picture.”

  “Oh, tell Mr. DeWitt to jump in an ink well!”Elda retorted angrily. “He’s always in a hurry.”

  “You haven’t been watching a shadow all this time, I judge,” Penny commented.

  “Of course not. I went downstairs to get a candy bar.”

  With a sigh, Elda pulled herself from the chair. She really did look as if she had undergone a bad fright, Penny observed. Feeling a trifle sorry for the girl, she helped her find the photograph, and they started with it to the newsroom.

  “I’d not say anything about the shadow if I were you, Elda,” Penny remarked.

  “Why not, pray?”

  “Well, it sounds rather silly.”

  “Oh, so I’m silly, am I?”

  “I didn’t say that, Elda. I said the idea of a shadow on the skylight struck me that way. Of course, if you want to be teased about it, why tell everyone.”

  “At least I didn’t make a mess of an important story,” Elda retorted, tossing her head.

  “Elda, why do you dislike me?” Penny demanded suddenly.

  The question was so unexpected that it threw the girl off guard. “Did I say I did?” she countered.

  “It’s obvious that you do.”

  “I’ll tell you what I dislike,” Elda said sharply. “The rest of us here have to work for our promotions. You’ll get yours without even turning a hair—just because you’re Mr. Parker’s one and only daughter.”

  “But that’s not true, Elda. I’m expected to earn my way the same as you. I’m working at a beginner’s salary.”

  “You can’t expect me to believe that!”

  “Was it because you thought I was making more money than you, that you changed the name on the Borman obituary?”

  Elda stopped short. She tried to register indignation, but instead, only looked frightened. Penny was certain of her guilt.

  “I haven’t told Mr. DeWitt, and I don’t intend to,” she said quietly. “But I’m warning you! If anything like that happens again, you’ll answer for it!”

  “Well, of all the nerve!” Elda exploded, but her voice lacked fire. “Of all the nerve!”

  Penny deliberately walked away from her.

  The day dragged on. At five-thirty Penny covered her typewriter and telephoned Mrs. Weems.

  “I’ll be late coming home tonight,” she said apologetically. “I thought I might get dinner downtown and perhaps go to a show.”

  “Another hard day?” the housekeeper asked sympathetically.

  “Much easier than yesterday,” Penny said, making her voice sound cheerful. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be home no later than nine.”

  Though she would not have confessed it even to herself, Penny was reluctant to meet her father at dinner time. He might not ask questions, but his all-knowing, all-seeing eyes would read her secrets. At a glance he could tell that newspaper work was not going well for her, and that she disliked it.

  “I certainly won’t give him an opportunity to even think, ‘I told you so,’” she reflected. “Even if it kills me, I’ll stick here, and I’ll pretend to like it too!”

  Because it was too early to dine, Penny walked aimlessly toward the river. She paused at a dock to watch two boys fishing, and then sauntered on toward the passenger wharves.

  A young man in an unpressed suit, and shoes badly in need of a shine, leaned against one of the freight buildings. Seeing Penny, he pulled his hat low over his eyes, and became engrossed in lighting a cigarette.

  She would have passed him by without a second glance, save that he deliberately turned his back to shield his face. The hunch of his shoulders struck her as strangely familiar.

  Involuntarily, she exclaimed: “Ben! Ben Bartell!”

  He turned then and she saw that she had not been mistaken. The young man indeed was a former reporter for the Riverview Mirror, a news magazine published weekly. Ben had not shaved that day, and he looked years older than when she last had seen him.

  “Hello, Penny,” he said uncomfortably.

  “Ben, what has happened to you?” she asked. “Why were you trying to avoid me?”

  Ben did n
ot reply for a moment. Then he said quietly: “Why should I want to see any of my old friends now? Just look at me and you have your answer.”

  “Why, Ben! You were one of the best reporters the Mirror ever had!”

  “Were is right,” returned Ben with a grim smile. “Haven’t worked there for six months now. The truth is, I’m down and out.”

  “Why, that’s ridiculous, Ben! Nearly every paper in town needs a good man.”

  “They don’t need me.”

  “Ben, you sound so bitter! What has happened to you?”

  “It’s a long story, sister, and not for your dainty little ears.”

  Penny now was deeply troubled, for she had known Ben well and liked him.

  “Ben, you must tell me,” she urged, taking his arm. “We’re going into a restaurant, and while we have dinner together, you must explain why you left the Mirror.”

  CHAPTER 6

  BEN’S STORY

  Ben held back.

  “Thanks,” he said uncomfortably, “but I think I ought to be moving on.”

  “Have you had your dinner?” Penny asked.

  “Not yet.”

  “Then do come with me, Ben. Or don’t you want to tell me what happened at the Mirror?”

  “It’s not that, Penny. The truth is—well—”

  “You haven’t the price of a dinner?” Penny supplied. “Is that it, Ben?”

  “I’m practically broke,” he acknowledged ruefully. “Sounds screwy in a day and age like this, but I’m not strong enough for factory work. Was rejected from the Army on account of my health. Tomorrow I guess I’ll take a desk job somewhere, but I’ve held off, not wanting to get stuck on it.”

  “You’re a newspaper man, Ben. Reporting is all you’ve ever done, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, but I’m finished now. Can’t get a job anywhere.”The young man started to move away, but Penny caught his arm again.

  “Ben, you are having dinner with me,” she insisted. “I have plenty of money, and this is my treat. I really want to talk to you.”

  “I can’t let you pay for my dinner,” Ben protested, though with less vigor.

  “Silly! You can take me somewhere as soon as you get your job.”

  “Well, if you put it that way,” Ben agreed, falling willingly into step. “There’s a place here on the waterfront that serves good meals, but it’s not stylish.”

  “All the better. Lead on, Ben.”

  He took her to a small, crowded little restaurant only a block away. In the front window, a revolving spit upon which were impaled several roasting chickens, captured all eyes. Ben’s glands began to work as he watched the birds browning over the charcoal.

  “Ben, how long has it been since you’ve had a real meal?” Penny asked, picking up the menu.

  “Oh, a week. I’ve mostly kept going on pancakes. But it’s my own funeral. I could have had jobs of a sort if I had been willing to take them.”

  Penny gave her order to the waitress, taking double what she really wanted so that her companion would not feel backward about placing a similar order. Then she said:

  “Ben, you remarked awhile ago that you can’t get a newspaper job anywhere.”

  “That’s true. I’m blacklisted.”

  “Did you try my father’s paper, the Star?”

  “I did. I couldn’t even get past his secretary.”

  “That’s not like Dad,” Penny said with troubled eyes. “Did you really do something dreadful?”

  “It was Jason Cordell who put the bee on me.”

  “Jason Cordell?” Penny repeated thoughtfully. “He’s the editor of the Mirror, and has an office in the building adjoining the Star.”

  “Right. Well, he fired me.”

  “Lots of reporters are discharged, Ben, but they aren’t necessarily blacklisted.”

  Ben squirmed uncomfortably in his chair.

  “You needn’t tell me if you don’t wish,” Penny said kindly. “I don’t mean to pry into your personal affairs. I only thought that I might be able to help you.”

  “I want to tell you, Penny. I really do. But I don’t dare reveal some of the facts, because I haven’t sufficient proof. I’ll tell you this much. I stumbled into a story—a big one—and it discredited Jason Cordell.”

  “You didn’t publish it?”

  “Naturally not.” Ben laughed shortly. “I doubt if any newspaper would touch it with a ten-foot pole. Cordell is supposed to be one of our substantial, respectable citizens.”

  “Actually?”

  “He’s as dishonorable as they come.”

  Knowing that Ben was bitter because of his discharge, Penny discredited some of the remarks, but she waited expectantly for him to continue. A waitress brought the dinner, and for awhile, as the reporter ate ravenously, he had little to say.

  “You’ll have to excuse me,” he finally apologized. “I haven’t tasted such fine food in a year! Now what is it you want to know, Penny? I’m in a mood to tell almost anything.”

  “What was this scandal you uncovered about Mr. Cordell?”

  “That’s the one thing I can’t reveal, but it concerned the owner of the Conway Steel Plant. They’re bitter enemies you know.”

  Penny had not known, and the information interested her greatly.

  “Did you talk it over with Mr. Cordell?” she asked.

  “That was the mistake I made.” Ben slowly stirred his coffee. “Cordell didn’t have much to say, but the next thing I knew, I was out of a job and on the street.”

  “Are you sure that was why he discharged you?”

  “What else?”

  Penny hesitated, not wishing to hurt Ben’s feelings. There were several things she had heard about him—that he was undependable and that he drank heavily.

  “Most of the things you’ve been told about me aren’t true,” Ben said quietly, reading her thoughts. “Jason Cordell started a lot of stories intended to discredit me. He told editors that I had walked off a job and left an important story uncovered. He pictured me as a drunkard and a trouble maker.”

  “I’ll talk to my father,” Penny promised. “As short as the Star is of employes, I’m sure there must be a place for you.”

  “You’re swell,” Ben said feelingly. “But I’m not asking for charity. I’ll get along.”

  Refusing to talk longer about himself, he told Penny of amusing happenings along the waterfront. After dessert had been finished, she slipped a bill into his hand, and they left the restaurant.

  Outside, the streets were dark, for in this section of the city, lights were few and far between. Ben offered to escort Penny back to the Star office or wherever she wished to go.

  “This isn’t too safe a part of the city for a girl,” he declared. “Especially after night.”

  “All the same, to me the waterfront is the most fascinating part of Riverview,” Penny declared. “You seem to know this part of town well, Ben.”

  “I should. I’ve lived here for the past six months.”

  “You have a room?”

  “I’ll show you where I live,” Ben offered. “Wait until we reach the next corner.”

  They walked on along the river docks, passing warehouses and vessels tied up at the wharves. Twice they passed guards who gazed at them with intent scrutiny. However, Ben was recognized, and with a friendly salute, the men allowed him to pass unchallenged.

  “The waterfront is strictly guarded now,” the reporter told Penny. “Even so, plenty goes on here that shouldn’t.”

  “Meaning?”

  Ben did not answer for they had reached the corner. Beyond, on a vacant lot which Penny suspected might also be a dumping ground, stood three or four dilapidated shacks.

  “See the third one,” Ben indicated. “Well, that’s my little mansion.”

  “Oh, Ben!”

  “It’s not bad inside. A little cold when the wind blows through the chinks, but otherwise, fairly comfortable.”

  “Ben, haven’t you any friends or relativ
es?”

  “Not here. I thought I had a few friends, but they dropped me like a hot potato when I ran into trouble.”

  “This is no life for you, Ben. I’ll certainly talk to my father tomorrow.”

  Ben smiled and said nothing. From his silence, Penny gathered that he had no faith she would be able to do anything for him.

  They walked on, and as they approached a small freighter tied up at the wharf, Ben pointed it out.

  “That’s the Snark,” he informed her.

  The name meant nothing to Penny. “Who owns her?” she inquired carelessly.

  “I wish I knew, Penny. There’s plenty goes on aboard that vessel, but it’s strictly hush-hush. I have my suspicions that—”

  Ben suddenly broke off, for several men had appeared on the deck of the Snark. The vessel was some distance away, and in the darkness only shadowy forms were visible.

  Seizing Penny’s arm, Ben pulled her flat against a warehouse.

  Amazed by his action, she started to protest. Then she understood. Aboard the Snark there was some sort of disturbance or disagreement. The men, although speaking in low, almost inaudible tones, were arguing. Penny caught only one phrase: “Heave him overboard!”

  “Ben, what’s happening there?” she whispered anxiously.

  “Don’t know!” he answered. “But nothing good.”

  “Where are the guards?”

  “Probably at the far end of their beats.”

  Aboard the Snark, there was a brief scuffle, as someone was dragged across the deck to the rail.

  “That’ll teach you!” they heard one of the men mutter.

  Then the helpless victim was raised and dropped over the rail. Shrieking in terror, he fell with a great splash into the inky waters. Frantically, he began to struggle.

  “Those fiends!” Penny cried. “They deliberately threw the man overboard, and he can’t swim!”

  CHAPTER 7

  MAN OVERBOARD!

  Penny and Ben ran to the edge of the dock, peering into the dark, oily waters. On the deck of the Snark there was a murmur of voices, then silence.

  Casting a quick glance upward, Penny was angered to see that the men who had been standing there had vanished into a cabin or companionway. Obviously, they had no intention of trying to aid the unfortunate man.