“Then it won’t be of any use to you.”
“Probably not a great deal. But don’t feel disappointed. It wasn’t your fault that the man got away. He has eluded some very clever investigators.”
“I had another queer experience when I went to meet Susan,” Penny related. “Did you ever hear of a policeman by the name of Jerome Davis?”
“Yes, why?”
Briefly, Penny told of her meeting with the officer and his daughter.
“I can’t comprehend why Betty tried to prevent her father from writing out a report of the theft, Dad. If such information leaked out it might cost him his position on the force.”
“I can readily understand that,” Mr. Nichols returned. “Jerome Davis is in a bad spot already.”
“Just how do you mean?”
“In the first place, he has never stooped to play politics. Some of his superiors dislike him on that account, although until recently they never questioned his honesty.”
“Has anything ever been proven against him?”
“No, but he has been subjected to severe criticism because so many auto accessory thefts have occurred in his district. The situation gives his enemies a fine opportunity to shoot at him.”
“I suppose that explains why Betty didn’t want him to report another theft. She was afraid it might cost him his job.”
“That might be the reason.”
“It won’t be fair if they discharge him on account of something he can’t prevent.”
“Life isn’t always fair, Penny.”
“What do you think about Jerome Davis, Dad? Is it your opinion that he is honest?”
“Yes, I think he is.” Mr. Nichols abruptly arose. “What you have told me is very interesting, Penny. I believe I’ll call Davis to the house and have a talk with him. He should be off duty soon.”
Telephoning the Davis home, the detective left a message that the policeman was to call back at his earliest convenience.
“It’s too late to get him here tonight,” Mr. Nichols remarked to his daughter. “If he does telephone I’ll ask him to come to my office tomorrow.”
“Then I won’t hear what he has to say,” Penny complained.
“I’m afraid you wouldn’t anyway, my dear. Mr. Davis would never talk freely if you were present at the interview.”
“I suppose not—if he knew it. But I might hide in the closet.”
“That would be a trifle too theatrical for my taste, Penny.”
The doorbell rang sharply. Mrs. Gallup came from another room to answer it. A moment later she returned to the study where Mr. Nichols and Penny were sitting.
“Mr. Davis to see you,” she told the detective.
“Davis? Strange he didn’t telephone before coming at such a late hour. But of course I’ll see him.”
Reluctantly, Penny arose.
“I suppose I’ll have to go.”
“No, wait. You really want to hear the interview?”
“I most certainly do.”
“You’ve earned the right,” Mr. Nichols smiled. “Sit over there in the high-back wing chair.”
Deftly he turned it so that the tall back faced the door. As Penny sat down he placed a book in her hands and advised her to curl her feet up under her as she often did when she read. In such a position, she was completely screened from the gaze of the caller as he entered the room.
No sooner had Penny settled herself comfortably than Mrs. Gallup ushered the officer into the study. She then quietly withdrew.
“Have a chair,” Mr. Nichols invited cordially. He offered one which would not reveal Penny’s hiding place.
“My daughter told me you had telephoned,” Jerome Davis began a trifle uneasily. “I thought I might as well walk on over and see you. I hope I didn’t come too late.”
“Not at all. I seldom retire before midnight. Davis, I suppose you wonder why I wanted to talk with you.”
A grim look had come over the officer’s face.
“I judge it’s about the stolen wheel and generator. I met your daughter this evening.”
“So she told me. However, what I really wanted to talk to you about was the Molberg gang.”
The officer offered no response.
“I don’t need to tell you that they are at the bottom of this recent outburst of thievery,” the detective went on, eyeing his caller shrewdly. “Unless they’re captured soon, you’ll be in a bad spot, Davis.”
“I’m in one now. I’ve always tried to be honest and do my duty as I saw it. Because of that I’ll probably end up without a job.”
“Not if you team along with me and help me to capture this gang. I’ll say frankly that since I took this case for the insurance company, I haven’t had much cooperation from the police.”
“I’ll be glad to help you all I can, Mr. Nichols. But I must act cautiously.”
“You mean for fear of antagonizing your superiors?”
“Yes, that’s the chief reason,” Jerome Davis admitted hesitatingly.
“Have you another?” Mr. Nichols probed.
“It’s this way,” the officer informed, growing confidential. “The commissioner seems to think that I’ve sold out to Rap Molberg. At least he appears to suspect that I serve as a stool pigeon for the gang, and tip them off as to the best time to pull a job. I’ve been demoted twice. A self-respecting man would have resigned long ago.”
“Unless he wanted to prove the truth,” Mr. Nichols suggested softly.
“That’s it,” the officer agreed. “I mean to hang on until I’m fired from the force. I’ve been unlucky because so many jobs have been pulled in my district. I’m working on the case when I’m off duty and one of these days I may get a break.”
“You spoke of working cautiously. Are you afraid to have your superiors know what you are about?”
“Not exactly. You see, Mr. Nichols, lately I’ve been running down a few tips regarding the whereabouts of Rap Molberg. Some of his henchmen have given me a polite warning to mind my own affairs. Their threats have terrified my daughter, and my son, Jimmie.”
“Then you don’t feel that you can push the search?” the detective inquired pointedly.
“I intend to go on just as I have,” Jerome Davis maintained firmly. “I expect to do everything in my power to capture Rap Molberg!”
“Good!” Mr. Nichols exclaimed. “I am satisfied that you are the sort of man I can use. If you will work secretly with my investigators, I am confident we shall produce results.”
“I’ll be glad to cooperate in every way I can,” the officer promised.
They shook hands to seal the agreement. Jerome Davis turned to leave.
“Thank you for coming here tonight,” the detective said as he escorted the officer to the door. “You will receive instructions from me within a short while. A day or two at the latest.”
After the door had closed behind the caller, Penny arose from her chair.
“Did you enjoy the interview?” her father asked, smiling.
“It was vastly exciting! I thought surely I’d be seen.”
“Mr. Davis was too engrossed in our talk to be very observing.”
“I don’t wonder that Betty Davis worries about her father. I heard him say that he had been threatened by the Molberg gang.”
“Yes, Davis is in an awkward situation. However, he seems to be a man of courage. I can use him.”
“I’ll be glad when you’re through with this case,” Penny sighed. “I’m worried sick for fear something may happen to you. All these threats—”
“Forget them,” Mr. Nichols advised. “I’ve received plenty of them before this and I’m still alive.”
“But Rap Molberg—”
“Forget him too,” the detective smiled. “Unless you do, I’ll be sorry I ever told you about the case. Run along to bed now—and pleasant dreams.”
“Nightmares to you!” Penny retorted.
She slowly mounted the stairs and disappeared into her own room.
<
br /> CHAPTER VIII
A Revealing Clue
For the next few days Penny saw very little of her father. He left the house early in the morning and often did not return at night until after she had retired. Meals became something of an ordeal, for either Mr. Nichols buried himself in a newspaper or allowed the conversation to lapse.
“You’re as talkative as the sphinx!” Penny accused. “Is the case going badly?”
“Not to my knowledge.”
“Is it going well then?”
“Not especially.”
“Have you found any clue as to the whereabouts of Rap Molberg?”
“Not yet.”
“You’re impossible!” Penny cried furiously. “It’s no use trying to learn a thing from you unless you’re in exactly the right mood!”
In desperation she sought solace in the companionship of her chum, Susan. They attended a great many moving picture shows and developed an enviable tan by swimming outdoors and playing tennis for hours at a time.
Although Penny was permitted complete freedom, Mr. Nichols had warned her to use caution whenever she left the house at night. On more than one occasion in going downtown or to the home of a friend, she half suspected that she was being followed.
She refrained from mentioning her fear to Mr. Nichols lest he curtail her freedom. But she became more alert and watchful.
One afternoon while Penny was mowing the yard, Susan drove up in her coupé. It was the first time she had used it since the unfortunate night of the theft. She hailed Penny joyously.
“The old bus is traveling again! It has a new generator and a fine new wheel!”
Penny inspected the new purchases.
“See anything wrong with the wheel?” Susan demanded.
“Not a thing. Why?”
“I bought it for about half the regular price. I was a little afraid I might have been gypped.”
Penny examined the spare wheel more critically. “It looks exactly like the one Dad bought me some time ago for nine ninety-eight. In fact, I’d think it was the same tire—the one that was stolen from me—if I didn’t know better.”
“I only paid four dollars,” Susan informed proudly. “Wasn’t it a bargain?”
“It looks like it. Where did you buy the tire?”
“Oh, at a little place on South Lake Street. I don’t remember the name.”
“South Lake isn’t such a good location,” Penny said thoughtfully, “I’ve heard Father say that a great many disreputable firms operate there. I know once he traced stolen furniture to a dealer on that street.”
“I hope I didn’t buy a stolen wheel,” Susan declared. “Was that what you had in mind, Penny?”
“I thought of it right off. But I haven’t any reason for saying it. For all I know, your tire may be a legitimate bargain.”
“I wish there was some way of finding out for certain,” Susan said anxiously.
“Let’s look for the serial number. The wheel should have one.”
Penny moved closer to inspect the new purchase.
“The number is here all right,” she acknowledged.
“Then the tire wasn’t stolen,” Susan said in relief.
Penny shook her head. “I’m not so sure of that, Sue. It looks to me as if these numbers have been changed. Wait a minute!”
She darted into the house, returning with her father’s magnifying glass. Using it to study the figures upon the wheel, the girls could plainly see that the numbers had been altered.
“To think I’d buy a stolen wheel!” Susan exclaimed indignantly. “I’m going right back and tell that dealer a thing or two!”
“You can’t very well do that. We would be in no position to prove anything.”
“I suppose you’re right,” Susan admitted.
“I’d like to see the establishment where you bought the tire,” Penny said after a moment’s pause. “Could you point it out to me?”
“Yes, I’ll take you there now if you like.”
Penny rolled the lawn mower into the garage and climbed into the coupé beside her chum.
“How do you like your car by this time?” she inquired as they drove toward South Lake Street.
“Not so well. It starts hard and has a funny sound in the engine. In a few days I mean to take it back to the Brunner garage for a complete overhaul.”
South Lake Street was located in the poorer section of Belton City. The neighborhood was noted for its second-hand stores and it was said that sooner or later stolen merchandise found its way into the crowded little shops which lined the narrow thoroughfare. Often wares were piled upon the sidewalks to attract an unwary buyer. Stoves, cheap tables, and all manner of hardware rubbed elbows with clever brass jugs, imported vases and Oriental rugs.
Presently, Susan halted her car in front of a tire shop which was located at the outskirts of “second hand” row.
“This is the place,” she announced.
The owner of the shop, a short, squat little man with beady black eyes, stood at the window. He eyed the girls sharply.
“Shall we go in?” Susan asked.
“Let’s, but we mustn’t act as if we suspect anything.”
Assuming a casual attitude, they sauntered into the shop. The dealer recognized Susan instantly. On her first visit he had been a trifle too cordial, but now he regarded her shrewdly.
“Something?” he inquired.
“My friend wishes to buy a new wheel,” Susan informed. “She’d like to see one like I bought yesterday.”
Again the dealer cast a sharp glance at Penny.
“Haven’t I seen you in here before?” he asked.
Penny shook her head. “No, this is the first time I ever came into your store.”
“I’ve seen you somewhere,” the man muttered. “Now, I know! You’re Christopher Nichols’ daughter!” He pronounced the name of the detective with a slight sneer.
“Yes, I am,” Penny acknowledged reluctantly. “But I’m sure I’ve never seen you before.”
“That’s quite likely.”
“Then how did you know me?”
“That’s my business,” the dealer retorted shortly. “I am sorry, but I can’t do business with you. Good day.”
Penny stood her ground.
“Haven’t you any tires for sale?”
“Not for you, I haven’t. You’re a snooper just like your father! Get out of here!”
Penny would have carried the argument further, but Susan tugged at her sleeve. They hastily left the shop. As they drove away, they saw the dealer standing at the plate glass window, watching.
“Such a horrible man!” Susan gasped. “I was actually afraid of him. What made him act like that?”
“I think he must have guessed why we came,” Penny told her. “As a sleuth I seem to be a walking advertisement of my calling!”
“He recognized you the minute you stepped into the store. Didn’t that strike you as queer?”
“Yes, it did, Susan. I’m almost certain that man is dealing in stolen tires. He’s probably afraid of the law. It’s to his advantage to recognize plain clothesmen and persons who might cause him trouble, I imagine I’ve been seen with my father.”
“I should think the police could arrest him.”
“It isn’t as easy as one might believe, Susan. If a fence is caught with stolen merchandise he claims to have purchased it in good faith. Actually he has taken it off the hands of some thief. An arrest is hard to make.”
“Then there’s nothing we can do?”
“I don’t know. I’ll ask Father when he comes home tonight.”
“I think a fence is even more contemptible than a thief,” Susan said scornfully. “I’d give anything if I hadn’t bought that tire.”
“I’m glad you did,” Penny smiled, “for the clue we gained may prove useful to Father.”
The girls were relieved when they reached the end of South Lake and turned into a more pleasant street. Driving toward their homes they relaps
ed into a long silence, each absorbed in her own thoughts. There were occasions when the two friends talked frantically for hours. There were other times when they would speak scarcely a word, yet enjoy perfect understanding.
Penny had slumped in her seat. Suddenly, she straightened, her eyes riveted upon a pedestrian who was crossing the street in front of the coupé.
“Susan, isn’t that Jerry Barrows?” she demanded excitedly.
The car swerved wildly as Susan turned to look.
“It is!” she exclaimed.
“Stop the car,” Penny pleaded. “I want to talk with him.”
Susan brought the coupé to a halt at the curbing. Penny sprang out.
“Jerry Barrows!” she called.
The boy wheeled and saw her. He hesitated an instant, then turned and ran.
CHAPTER IX
A Trap
“Wait! I want to talk with you!” Penny called.
The boy paid no heed. As she ran after him he darted into the nearest alley.
Provoked, Penny hastened back to the car where Susan was waiting.
“Let’s try to catch him,” she proposed, springing in beside her chum.
Susan turned the coupé in the narrow street and drove into the alley. They could see the boy only a short distance ahead.
“We’ll overtake him,” Penny cried jubilantly.
Aware that he was being pursued, the boy ran faster. Then noticing an opening between two buildings, he squeezed through it and was lost to view.
Penny tried to follow afoot but soon gave it up. She returned to the coupé disheartened.
“He eluded us this time, Sue. I suppose that boy thought I meant to have him arrested. Actually, I only wanted to question him.”
For some twenty-five minutes the girls cruised around the block, hoping to sight Jerry Barrows again. Although they kept close watch of the alleys he did not reappear.
“Did you notice anything peculiar about that boy’s appearance?” Penny inquired as they turned toward home.
“No, why?”
“He was dressed much better than on that night when we caught him in our garage. He doesn’t look as if he had ever had much hard luck.”
“I imagine his entire story was a lie,” Susan declared. “He didn’t keep his promise to call at your father’s office, and now he runs like a coward when we try to talk with him.”
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