The Girl Detective Megapack: 25 Classic Mystery Novels for Girls

by Mildred A. Wirt

  “Where is Dad now?”

  “He started for the police station.”

  “Then I guess he’ll learn the truth in a few minutes if he’s still there.”

  “Tell me what happened, Penny.”

  In the midst of the tale, a car was heard on the driveway, and a minute later Mr. Nichols entered the house. Although he was never inclined to be demonstrative, the detective clasped his daughter in his arms and Penny noticed that his hands trembled slightly.

  “I’ve just heard the entire story at the police station,” he told her. “You gave me a terrific scare, Penny.”

  “I gave myself one, too. If it hadn’t been for your men who shadowed me, I’m afraid I’d never have returned to tell the tale.”

  “I doubt that the gangsters would have actually harmed you, but they would have used you as a weapon to strike back at me. I am sorry about having you trailed, Penny, but you understand my position. I was afraid of this very thing.”

  “It’s all right,” Penny smiled. “Only your men aren’t so clever at keeping me in sight. I unintentionally gave them the slip earlier in the evening.”

  Mrs. Gallup had gone to the kitchen to prepare sandwiches and an iced drink. Taking advantage of her absence, Penny gave a detailed report of her visit to the Hamilton Plant. At first her father listened almost incredulously.

  “It sounds fantastic, Penny. And yet, it’s just the sort of trickery which would appeal to Rap Molberg. You say the door is operated by means of a photo-electric cell?”

  “That’s what I think. At least when the beam of my light struck a certain spot on the wall, the door opened.”

  Mr. Nichols arose and paced rapidly back and forth across the floor.

  “I’m going to take you into my confidence, Penny,” he said quietly. “For days my men have been circling in on Rap and his gang. We’ve located one of their hideouts, and we’re raiding the place tomorrow night. It now seems advisable to surround the Hamilton building simultaneously. Then there will be no chance that any of the crooks can use the underground ramp to make a get-away.”

  “Will the police make the raid?” Penny inquired curiously.

  “Yes and no. So far I have taken only one man into my confidence.”

  “And who is that?”

  “Jerome Davis.”

  “I was at his house this evening,” Penny announced. “A threatening note was thrown through the window while I was there.”

  She repeated the contents of the message.

  “No doubt it came from the Molberg gang,” her father said. “They are doing everything in their power to intimidate Jerome Davis. But I believe he is a man who can be trusted. Tomorrow night at eleven o’clock he will be ready with a picked group of policemen. No one but himself will know any of the details of the raid until it is actually on. In that way there will be almost no danger of the information leaking out.”

  “Where is this other hideout which is to be raided?”

  “I can’t tell you that. It isn’t that I don’t trust you, but sometimes an unguarded word will destroy the work of weeks.”

  “I guess it’s just as well I don’t know too much about it ahead of time,” Penny agreed.

  The conversation was checked as Mrs. Gallup came from the kitchen with a tray of sandwiches and a tall pitcher of fruit juice. For a time Penny and her father confined their talk to less vital subjects. But when the housekeeper had gone from the room again, Mr. Nichols took up the matter where it had been dropped.

  “If my raids tomorrow night are successful, it will end the case. We may need you, Penny, to show the officers how to get into the Hamilton building.”

  “I’d like to help,” she assured him eagerly.

  “Good,” Mr. Nichols said warmly as he picked up the evening paper. “Until the appointed hour, don’t go near the Plant. And mind, not a word of this to anyone.”

  CHAPTER XIII

  The Raid

  At exactly ten minutes to eleven on the following night, eight police cars rolled swiftly down the boulevard. In a congested portion of the city they drew up to the curbing, waiting for Christopher Nichols who rode with his daughter in a dark sedan.

  Jerome Davis, in charge of the raid, came over to speak to the detective.

  “Everything is all set, Mr. Nichols. We have the entire neighborhood bottled up. Every alley and street guarded.”

  “Good. And the Hamilton building?”

  “It is surrounded. At exactly eleven my men will raid both places. It’s a cinch we’ll get Rap Molberg and his gang this time.”

  “You’re certain no hint of the raid has leaked out?”

  Jerome Davis laughed confidently.

  “Even now my men aren’t sure what’s coming off. This raid can’t fail, Mr. Nichols. We had a straight tip where Molberg could be found and we’ll get him!”

  “Then go ahead exactly as we planned,” Mr. Nichols directed. “On to the Blind Pig Café!”

  Jerome Davis returned to the waiting cars, relaying the detective’s orders. In single file the police automobiles moved forward. They rounded a corner and bore down upon a brightly illuminated restaurant.

  With a start Penny recognized it as the same place where she had met Betty Davis the previous evening.

  “What a coincidence!” she thought. “How embarrassing it would be for Mr. Davis if his son should be found in there tonight!”

  The appearance of the first officer in the doorway of the Blind Pig was sufficient to give warning that a raid was under way. The few persons who were dining inside made wild dashes for the doors and windows. They were quickly captured by officers stationed at all the exits. Although the room lights had been snapped out, no shots were fired.

  “Something is wrong!” Mr. Nichols exclaimed, abruptly leaving the sedan from which he had been watching. “It looks to me like a tip-off.”

  A few minutes after her father had disappeared into the café, Penny saw the policemen load perhaps six or seven prisoners into the waiting cars. But it was apparent even to her that the raid had failed. The persons arrested obviously were not members of the Molberg gang.

  Mr. Nichol’s face was dark when he came back to the sedan. Without a word he started the engine and drove rapidly off.

  “What happened?” Penny asked timidly.

  “Oh, the usual,” the detective snapped. “It was a tip-off. Only a few persons were in the café and the clubrooms to the rear were completely deserted. Not a scrap of evidence. We’ll have to release all the prisoners.”

  “Where are we going now, Dad?”

  “To the Hamilton Plant. There’s just a chance that the raid there was more successful, though I doubt it.”

  “Who could have carried the information?” Penny inquired.

  “I don’t know. That’s what bothers me. Penny, you’re certain you never dropped a word of this?”

  “Why, of course not!”

  “I don’t mean intentionally, of course. You’re sure you never mentioned the raid to your friend Susan?”

  “Absolutely not,” Penny maintained indignantly. “For that matter, I didn’t know the Blind Pig was the place you were raiding.”

  “That’s true,” Mr. Nichols acknowledged. “I didn’t mean to offend you, Penny. I was only seeking information. I can’t see how the news leaked out unless—”

  “Unless what?” Penny probed.

  “I’ll not say it.”

  “You meant, unless Jerome Davis had betrayed his trust!”

  “Well, yes, that was what I was thinking. This is the first occasion I’ve had to question his honesty. It may be I haven’t given enough consideration to the stories which have circulated regarding Davis.”

  “You said you believed they were started by his political enemies.”

  “Yes, and I’m still inclined to think that, although the failure of this raid looks peculiar to say the least. I’ll have to be more careful in my dealings with Davis.”

  “If the Molberg outfit di
dn’t regard him as an enemy then why would they throw a warning note through the window?” Penny demanded.

  “That could have been faked—it might have been a dodge to impress you.”

  “I don’t see how it could have been, Dad. You see, I met Betty Davis quite by accident that evening. On the spur of the moment I accepted her invitation to stop a few minutes at the house. It was while I was there that the message was thrown through the window. It couldn’t have been planned.”

  “Not very well,” Mr. Nichols admitted. “Davis may be honest enough, but if I find he’s a loose talker, his usefulness for me will be ended.”

  The sedan had reached the dead-end street which led to the vacant Hamilton Plant. An officer stepped out of the shadow to challenge Mr. Nichols, but recognizing him, saluted instead.

  “What luck?” the detective asked.

  “I can’t tell you, sir. I’ve heard nothing since I was stationed here.”

  Penny and her father drove on between the rows of police cars which lined the narrow street. As they halted at the far end of the thoroughfare, an officer came to speak with them.

  “Did you get into the building?” Mr. Nichols inquired tersely.

  “Yes, your daughter’s instructions were very clear. We had no trouble.”

  “What did you find?”

  “Everything was exactly as Miss Nichols said. The place has been used by the Molberg outfit, that’s clear. But there wasn’t a sign of anyone, and the desk which Miss Nichols mentioned as being in the little office, was gone.”

  “Looks like they got wind of what was up, doesn’t it?”

  “That’s the way I figure it,” the officer returned. “Not much we can do except wreck the place so it can’t be used again.”

  Mr. Nichols talked with several other policemen, and then, satisfied that he had learned all the details of the unsuccessful raid, took Penny home.

  “I suppose this means we’ll not be taking that vacation into the mountains very soon,” she commented when they were alone in the living room.

  “I’m afraid of it, Penny. Would you care to go by yourself?”

  “No, I’d prefer to wait until you can go too. Besides, I’ve become deeply absorbed in this Molberg case.”

  “I’ve noticed that,” her father smiled. “I never suspected that my own daughter had such hidden talents for sleuthing.”

  “Now you’re teasing!” Penny accused.

  “No, your discoveries have astonished me, Penny. Perhaps you were favored a little by luck, but you’ve unearthed information which even my most skilled investigators were unable to turn up.”

  “My clues didn’t prove of much value after all.”

  “It wasn’t your fault that they didn’t. A detective must learn to expect disappointments.”

  “So it seems,” Penny sighed. “Now that Rap Molberg escaped the police net, what will be your next move?”

  “I don’t know yet, Penny.”

  “Perhaps Rap Molberg will leave the city.”

  “I don’t think there’s much chance of that. He’ll remain in hiding for a few days or weeks, then strike again. You must have a constant bodyguard, Penny.”

  “Oh, Dad! If you knew how I hated it! I couldn’t feel that even my thoughts were my own!”

  “Sorry, Penny, but it’s for your own safety.”

  “Oh, all right, I submit,” Penny grumbled good-naturedly. “Only if I must have someone tagging at my heels all the time, please make him tall and handsome!”

  “I don’t usually select my men for their beauty,” Mr. Nichols smiled. “But I’ll do the best I can for you.”

  Although Penny disliked the idea of being closely watched, actually a bodyguard was not as annoying as she had imagined it might be. Joe Franey, the detective assigned by Mr. Nichols to the service, was young and, while not handsome, distinguished in appearance. His bearing gave no hint of his professional calling. Penny found Joe very likeable. He never irritated her by making her aware of his presence—in fact, for hours at a time she never saw him at all—yet when she was on the street she was seldom out of his sight.

  For the next few days, following Joe’s assignment to his new duties, Penny and Susan slyly amused themselves by trying to see if they could outwit him. They led the detective a gay chase from one end of the city to another. They dropped into department stores, dodging in one door and out another, but when they were confident they had baffled Joe, they were very apt to see him watching them from a doorway across the street.

  Or if they entered a theatre apparently unobserved by the faithful sleuth they were almost certain to see him only a few seats behind. But soon Joe became such a fixture in Penny’s life that she accepted him without much thought.

  True to Mr. Nichols’ prediction, all remained quiet on the Rap Molberg front save that the unsuccessful raid had stirred up an aftermath of bitter criticism. The local newspapers provided considerable unfavorable publicity; editors ran scorching editorials blaming Mr. Nichols and the police for the failure to break up the Molberg gang.

  Infuriated by the comments of the press, the police commissioner called both the detective and Jerome Davis to his office. Neither could explain the failure of the raid. It was obvious that someone had allowed information to leak and since only Mr. Nichols and a few policemen had known the details of the raid, suspicion tended to center upon Jerome Davis.

  “It’s only a matter of days until he’ll be discharged from the force,” Mr. Nichols told his daughter.

  “Surely you don’t think he’d be guilty of helping Rap Molberg?” Penny questioned.

  “I don’t know what to believe. Davis was called on the carpet yesterday and given an opportunity to explain a number of things. He wouldn’t talk.”

  “But that doesn’t prove necessarily that he’s guilty, does it?”

  “No, but he’s acted strangely of late. The fact remains that someone let information leak either by accident or deliberately. Davis was in a bad spot before this. Now I’m afraid nothing can save his job.”

  “I feel so sorry for Betty,” Penny murmured. “She’ll take it hard if her father is discharged.”

  “You mustn’t worry about it,” Mr. Nichols advised kindly. “Davis had his chance to make good and seemingly failed. Now matters must take their own course.”

  “Couldn’t you do anything to save his position, Dad?”

  “I doubt it, Penny. At any rate, I shouldn’t care to interfere ... for I’m not convinced that the commissioner isn’t right. Davis is a queer type.”

  “Just the same I can’t help feeling he’s honest,” Penny maintained firmly. “Couldn’t there have been another reason for the failure of the raid?”

  “Yes, but Davis was under suspicion before this. And since the raid he’s been anything but cooperative.”

  “Then I suppose nothing can be done, but it seems a pity.”

  Penny did not speak of the matter again to her father but in secret she continued to mull over the unfortunate situation. She had developed a deep liking for Betty Davis, yet she readily acknowledged that in many ways the girl acted queerly.

  “It’s too much for me to figure out,” Penny confessed to Susan one afternoon. “Everything seems to be such a hopeless contradiction. Betty lets on that she is desperately afraid her father will be harmed by Rap Molberg and yet the police claim that Mr. Davis is really abetting the criminals.”

  “Have you ever met her brother?”

  “Jimmie?” Penny asked. “No, but from what she told me I suspect he’s something of a problem.”

  “I haven’t seen Betty in days,” Susan remarked. “Why not call on her this afternoon?”

  Penny hesitated an instant, then agreed. Considering her father’s association with Mr. Davis she was not certain that the visit would be very tactful.

  “We must be careful and not say anything that could offend her,” she warned.

  “Of course,” Susan agreed. “Shall we drive over in my car?”
>
  At the Davis cottage a few minutes later, they caught a glimpse of someone moving about on the upper floor. But when they rapped upon the door there was no response.

  “I know I saw Betty looking out of an upstairs window just as we drove up,” Susan whispered.

  “Perhaps she doesn’t care to see us then. Come on, Sue, let’s not knock again.”

  They quietly withdrew to the car.

  “Where to now?” Susan inquired as she snapped on the ignition.

  “Oh, anywhere. I’ve nothing special to do this afternoon.”

  Susan stepped on the electric starter, but the engine refused to respond. She readjusted gasoline and spark levers to no avail.

  “Stalled again!” she complained bitterly. “I never saw such a car! We’ve had nothing but trouble since we bought it.”

  “Perhaps it’s only flooded,” Penny suggested hopefully.

  Susan shook her head.

  “It’s done this before. Nothing to do but call the garage. Anyway, Mr. Brunner promised he’d give the car a free overhaul, and this is his chance to make good.”

  The girls telephoned the Brunner garage from a drug store located directly across the street. They waited nearly half an hour before the blue service car arrived to tow them in.

  “May I speak to Mr. Brunner?” Susan politely asked one of the garage employees.

  “Sorry but he’s busy,” was the curt reply. “I’ll handle any complaint you have to make.”

  Susan gave a somewhat lengthy account of her car troubles. The employee scarcely bothered to listen. When she had finished, he said briefly.

  “I’ll check the car over and have it ready in half an hour.”

  “Let’s wait,” Susan proposed.

  They found chairs nearby. In fifteen minutes, the same employee returned to report that the car was ready.

  “So soon?” Susan said in surprise. “Why, I’m sure you couldn’t have checked over everything in such a short while.”

  “The car will start now. If you want a general overhaul you’ll have to pay for it.”

  “But Mr. Brunner promised me when I bought the automobile that if anything went wrong he’d make it right!” Susan protested indignantly. “I’ve driven the car less than five hundred miles and it’s almost falling apart! May I see Mr. Brunner?”