Recalling that Mrs. Gallup had requested her to bring home a pint of ice cream, she crossed the street to the nearest drug store.
While she was waiting to be served, a man in grimy workman’s clothes slouched into the store. He pretended to interest himself in a cigarette slot machine, but Penny noticed that he darted furtive glances at the waiting customers.
Something about the man’s appearance struck Penny as peculiar. She conceded that he looked like a day laborer yet his actions and mannerisms were not in keeping.
“I’ve seen him before,” she thought.
Suddenly the picture of Rap Molberg flashed into her mind. Yet as she scrutinized the man a second time she could see only a slight resemblance to the photo her father had shown her.
However, as the man moved swiftly to the nearest telephone booth, suspicion began to take root. In identifying underworld characters, photographs were never a certain guide, that Penny knew. Too often a criminal disguised his appearance. Not by false wigs and beards which even a novice detective might note at a glance. Rather by altering his features or by adopting costumes commonly seen upon the street.
Impulsively, Penny stepped into a telephone booth adjoining the one which the workman had entered. By leaning close to the wooden panel, she could hear part of the conversation.
“That you, Jake?” he asked gruffly. “Everything’s set for the big haul. We’re all ready to go ahead whenever the boss gives the word.”
By this time Penny was almost certain that she was listening to the voice of Rap Molberg. Although in general the man did not resemble the photo which she had seen, the color of his eyes and the expression of his mouth were identical. His build seemed to correspond to the figures of the Bertillon record.
A minute later the man slammed down the telephone receiver and left the booth. Penny waited until he was out of the store, then dropped a nickel in the slot. She called the number which her father had given her. There was no response at the other end of the line.
“I suppose he’s left the office,” she thought frantically. “Oh, I can’t let that man get away.”
She rushed from the drug store and reached the street just in time to see the workman disappear around a corner.
“I wonder if I dare attempt to shadow him?” Penny debated.
She was a little afraid, yet the streets in the immediate vicinity of the theater were well lighted, and it did not seem too dangerous.
Turning the corner, she caught sight of the man far ahead. He was walking rapidly. She too quickened her step, but took care not to approach close enough to arouse his suspicion.
Presently the man paused beside a fine looking automobile which had been parked at the curbing. As he glanced sharply up and down the street, Penny pretended to be looking into the window of a jewelry store. Actually, she was watching the man’s reflection in the glass.
She saw him step into the car, take a key from his pocket and turn on the ignition. As he drove away, Penny quickly noted down the license number.
She glanced hopefully up the street but there was no policeman within sight. A taxi cab driver noticing her agitated expression, cruised close to the curb. Penny hailed him.
“Follow that green car ahead,” she directed tersely, climbing in. “Don’t let it get out of your sight.”
At the first corner they were held up by a light which was changing from caution yellow to red. Risking arrest, the taxi driver crashed it.
The green car ahead had picked up speed. It weaved in and out of traffic in a dangerous manner, driven by a man who was both skillful and reckless.
The pursuit led into the hilly, crooked streets upon which the older section of Belton City had been built. As they raced down first one narrow street and then another, turning corners at a breathless speed, Penny suspected that the man had become aware that he was being followed. Her driver had increasing difficulty in keeping him in sight.
“The right hand turn!” Penny cried as the taxi-man hesitated at an intersection.
They tore down a dark, twisting street at a break-neck speed. Suddenly the driver slammed on his brakes. The thoroughfare had come to an abrupt end.
“It’s a dead-end,” the taximan said in disgust, turning the cab around. “He couldn’t have come this way.”
“I’m sure he did,” Penny insisted.
The street was short and she could see its entire length. The green car had vanished.
There were no houses or garages into which the automobile might have turned. On either side of the street stood factory and manufacturing buildings.
“Shall I try another road?” the driver questioned.
“It’s no use now. I guess we’ve lost him. But I was positive that man came this way. I don’t see how I lost him.”
She gave her home address to the driver, and sank back against the cushions, completely disgusted with the turn of events.
As Penny alighted at her own door, she cast a speculative glance toward the lighted window. If her father had not returned, Mrs. Gallup was almost certain to ask embarrassing questions concerning her arrival in a taxicab.
“And I forgot the ice cream too!” she thought. “I’ll have a nice time explaining.”
However, it was not necessary to give an account of her activities. Mrs. Gallup met her at the door.
“You came just in time, Penny. You’re wanted on the telephone.”
“It isn’t Father?”
“No,” the housekeeper assured her, “I think it’s your chum.”
“Susan?”
“Yes.” Mrs. Gallup pushed her gently toward the telephone. “The girl seems to be greatly excited over something. Do hurry and answer for she’s been waiting several minutes now.”
CHAPTER VI
Susan’s Misfortune
When Penny answered the telephone she heard her chum’s agitated voice.
“I know I shouldn’t bother you so late in the evening,” Susan began excitedly, “but I’ve had the worst luck with my new car!”
“You haven’t been in a collision?”
“No, it isn’t quite that bad. But I’m stranded on Eighth Avenue and I can’t reach my folks by telephone.”
“I’ll drive over and get you,” Penny offered. “What’s the matter anyway? Has the engine balked already?”
“The car has been stripped by thieves! I’m so furious I can’t even talk about it.”
“I’ll come right over and see for myself,” Penny declared.
Pausing only long enough to tell Mrs. Gallup where she was going, Penny backed her roadster from the garage. She located Susan not far from Eighth Avenue and Clark, sitting gloomily behind the wheel of her new coupé.
As Penny drove up she saw that the spare wheel was missing. A spotlight was gone and likewise a reflecting mirror.
“The thieves very obligingly left me the steering wheel,” Susan greeted her friend. “When a person can’t park fifteen minutes without having everything stolen, I think it’s time for the police to get busy!”
“How did you happen to be parked downtown?” Penny inquired. “Your mother said you had gone to visit an aunt.”
“I did, but on the way home I stopped at the “Y” for a swim. I should have left the car on a lot but I thought I’d save the quarter. Now witness the result!”
“You still have four tires,” Penny pointed out. “That’s more than they left me.”
“Yes, but they’ve done something to the engine. It won’t start. That’s why I called you.”
Penny lifted the hood to look at the motor. Susan peered anxiously over her shoulder.
“Can you tell what’s wrong?”
“It looks to me as if some of the vital parts are missing. Offhand I’d say it was the generator.”
“What’s a generator?” Susan asked blankly. “Are they very expensive?”
“I don’t know but I imagine they are. Isn’t your car covered by insurance, Susan?”
“No, it isn’t. We intended to t
ake it out but we didn’t think a few days’ delay would make any difference.”
“Thieves seem to favor new cars.”
“I realize that now,” Susan said ruefully. “You know, I noticed a rather queer thing as I came out of the “Y.” A garage service car was standing beside my coupé. It drove away as I came toward it.”’
“A service car?” Penny demanded alertly. “Did you see what garage it was from?”
“No, I didn’t. In fact, I scarcely paid any attention at the time for it wasn’t until I had reached my car that I realized it had been stripped.”
“You must have surprised the thieves in the act!” Penny said excitedly. “Undoubtedly, they are using the service truck as a front to escape detection.”
“How do you mean?”
“Why, they drive up in the truck and pretend to be changing a tire or repairing the engine. Passersby notice nothing amiss.”
“But what if the owner appears?”
“They drive away or if actually caught claim that they have made a mistake in identifying the car of a customer.”
“The driver of the garage truck did act suspiciously,” Susan admitted. “I was stupid not to jot down the license number.”
The girls were talking so earnestly that they failed to note the approach of a policeman. He paused to see what was wrong.
“Wheel stolen?” he asked, surveying the car critically.
“The wheel, the generator, and almost everything detachable,” Susan informed. “I was only gone a few minutes too.”
“Have you reported to headquarters?”
Susan shook her head.
“What’s the use?”
“You might recover your stolen property,” the policeman said optimistically, taking a notebook from his pocket. “Your name and address?”
Susan gave it and furnished such information as she could regarding the theft.
“Your car wasn’t the only one that was stripped in this neighborhood tonight,” the officer told her. “Not fifteen minutes ago I ran into a similar case.”
“I think it’s time the police did something about it,” Susan said somewhat crossly.
“We’re up against a tough gang, Miss. Our force is small and we can’t place a man on every street corner.”
As the officer continued to make out his report, a girl came running toward the little group. She was about Penny’s age, though much thinner. Her black hair blew in the wind, unrestrained by hat or beret.
“Oh, Father!” she cried in agitation.
The policeman turned quickly around.
“Why, Betty, what brings you here?” he questioned in surprise.
“I’ve been following you for two blocks,” the girl said breathlessly. “I wanted to—”
Her voice trailed off. She had noticed Susan and Penny.
Slowly her eyes swept over the dismantled car, then they roved to her father with an expression which was akin to panic.
“What was it you wanted, Betty?” he asked.
“It doesn’t matter now,” she stammered. She added tensely: “Father, you’re not making out a report!”
“Certainly, I am.”
“Don’t do it,” the girl pleaded, gripping his arm. “You know what it may mean. Please, for my sake!”
Penny and Susan exchanged a quick glance. They were at a loss to understand the girl’s strange attitude. Why should she be so troubled because her father was writing out a routine report of a theft?
To their relief, the policeman laughed carelessly and went on making out the report.
“You’re hysterical, Betty,” he accused. “Come, get a grip upon yourself.”
“I’m sorry,” the girl murmured, glancing nervously at Penny and Susan. “I shouldn’t have made such a request.”
“My daughter is very excitable,” the officer said apologetically. “She didn’t really mean what she said.”
There was an awkward pause. Penny turned to the girl and questioned kindly:
“Haven’t I seen you somewhere? Your face is familiar.”
“I’ve watched you swim at the Y.W.C.A. pool. You dive beautifully too.”
“Oh, I remember you now! But I don’t know your name.”
“I am Betty Davis. You’ve already met my father.”
“Jerome Davis,” the officer added. “Just a sidewalk pounder.”
The girls smiled at the disparaging remark. Penny mentioned her own name.
“You’re not related to Christopher Nichols?” the officer asked.
“Yes, I am his daughter.”
“You don’t say! Well, I am glad to make your acquaintance. Down at the station they think a lot of your father.”
“He was on the force many years ago, I believe,” Penny said politely.
“That was before my time, but I’m always hearing about him. He’s solved some difficult cases that have baffled our best detectives.”
Penny made a perfunctory response and the officer turned to his daughter.
“Betty, you shouldn’t be out alone so late at night. You must go back home at once.”
“If you live nearby I’ll be glad to take you in my car,” Penny offered.
“I shouldn’t like to trouble you,” the girl said hastily. “My home is only a few blocks away.”
“It will be no trouble at all,” Penny insisted, opening the door of her roadster. “Do let me give you a lift.”
The girl flashed her father an appealing glance. It was obvious to both Penny and Susan that she was greatly upset about something, yet the officer appeared not to notice. He did not seem to realize that she wished to speak with him privately.
“It’s very kind of you to take my daughter home, Miss Nichols,” he said quietly. “Don’t keep them waiting, Betty.”
Reluctantly, the girl crowded into the seat beside Penny and Susan.
“I live at 1406 St. Clair Avenue,” she informed briefly.
As they drove slowly along, Penny had an opportunity to study the girl. She was an odd type. Serious and certainly not talkative. When drawn into conversation, her answers were given in monosyllables.
“She’s worrying over something,” Penny thought.
The car halted before a modest brown cottage on St. Clair Avenue. Betty Davis alighted.
“Thank you so much for bringing me home,” she told Penny gratefully. She hesitated, then added earnestly: “I know you thought it queer because I asked my father not to make that report.”
“I’m sure you must have had a very good reason,” Penny returned.
“I was overwrought or I shouldn’t have made the request. You see, my father is in great danger!”
“I don’t quite understand.”
Already Betty Davis felt that she was revealing too much.
“I wish I could tell you about it—but I don’t dare,” she murmured.
With that she turned and ran into the house.
CHAPTER VII
An Awkward Situation
“Now just what did she mean by that remark?” Susan demanded of her chum as they saw Betty Davis disappear inside the cottage.
“I’m not a mind reader,” Penny returned with a shrug. “The air seems to be filled with mysteries this evening.”
She then told of her experience in shadowing the man whom she had believed to be Rap Molberg. Susan listened in amazement.
“You must have lost your senses, Penny Nichols! If you turn up missing some morning, it will be easy to guess the reason why!”
“Perhaps it was a foolish thing to do. But I thought if I could learn Rap Molberg’s hideout it would be a big help to Dad. Investigators from the agency have been searching days for that man.
“You should leave the job to them then,” Susan advised severely.
“I guess I will,” Penny said ruefully. “At any rate, I failed at it.”
After dropping Susan off at the Altman residence, she drove on to her own home. Mr. Nichols was nervously pacing the living room floor when Penny
entered.
“I’m glad you’re here,” he said in relief. “Mrs. Gallup told me you had gone off after receiving a telephone call. I was afraid it might have been a frame-up.”
“I went to meet Susan. Didn’t Mrs. Gallup explain?”
“No, but it doesn’t matter now. I shouldn’t have worried only things have been popping in the city tonight.”
“The tire theft gang is at work again?”
“Yes, they made a big haul. When the story gets out, the Nichols Detective Agency isn’t going to appear in a very good light.”
“You haven’t been working long on the case, Dad.”
“True, but to date the result of our investigation has been disappointing. This haul tonight has all the earmarks of Rap Molberg’s hand, yet my men can find no trace of him in the city.”
Penny could not restrain her news an instant longer. She half expected that her father would scold her for the taxicab escapade, but to her surprise he became mildly excited.
“Can you give me an accurate description of the man, Penny?”
“He was about five and a half feet in height and wore workman’s clothes.”
“Undoubtedly, a disguise,” the detective interposed.
“His eyes were dark. The expression of his mouth was sullen. His teeth were uneven.”
“Did you notice a scar on his cheek?”
“No.”
“The mark isn’t really significant, for Rap Molberg would be clever enough to hide it. Did you observe anything more?”
“He seemed extremely nervous. And the telephone conversation made me suspicious. Oh, yes, when he drove away I copied down the license number.”
“Let me see it,” Mr. Nichols said eagerly.
She handed it to him.
“Penny, you’ve done a fine piece of work,” he praised.
“But I let him get away.”
“You couldn’t help that. This license number may make it possible for us to trace him. I’ll telephone police headquarters right now and see if they know anything about the car.”
He sought a telephone in an adjoining room. Penny lingered by his elbow while he made the call. After talking for some minutes, he hung up the receiver.
“I was afraid we might run into this, Penny. The license number which you noted down belongs to a stolen car.”
The Girl Detective Megapack: 25 Classic Mystery Novels for Girls Page 194
