The Girl Detective Megapack: 25 Classic Mystery Novels for Girls

by Mildred A. Wirt

  Hearing the whining whistle of a squad car arriving from police headquarters, the girls quietly slipped away. Cron made no move to detain them, even though Amy retained possession of the Black Imp.

  “Why do you suppose Hanley Cron didn’t try to make trouble?” Penny asked as they walked swiftly along the street toward Amy’s rooming house. “I felt certain he would.”

  “So did I. I guess he knew he had no right to copy the Black Imp.”

  “He was probably afraid he might get himself into trouble,” Penny chuckled. “Either that, or he didn’t want to make a scene in front of Mrs. Dillon.”

  “It’s queer about the statue,” Amy said musingly. “I can’t understand what he intended to do with it.”

  She took the Black Imp from her pocket and examined it critically. The damp clay was slightly misshapen from rough handling. They sat down on a park bench while Amy deftly molded it back into its original form.

  “It should make a fairly nice figure when it dries,” she remarked.

  “Why don’t you try to sell the Black Imp to some commercial firm?” Penny asked abruptly. “It seems to me it has possibilities. It’s such a cute little figure.”

  “Perhaps I will try later on,” Amy agreed. “But until my name is cleared I haven’t much chance to do anything.”

  “That’s true,” Penny acknowledged. “What are you going to do with this copy of the statue?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Would you like it?”

  “Would I? Rather! But don’t you want it yourself?”

  “No, I have the original if ever I muster the courage to go to the museum and claim it.”

  “I’d love to have the reproduction,” Penny declared enthusiastically. “Only I wish you had made it instead of Hanley Cron.”

  “I’ll make you a nicer piece later on,” Amy promised as she wrapped up the figure in her handkerchief and gave it to Penny.

  Presently, after discussing at some length the exciting events of the afternoon, they arose and walked on down the street. They were nearing the downtown business section when Penny halted and pretended to gaze into the plate glass window of a large department store.

  “Amy, I think we’re being followed!” she announced in a low tone. “Don’t look around.”

  “What makes you think so?” Amy inquired skeptically.

  “Ever since we left the park a man has been trailing us.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Every time we stop he does too. I can see his reflection now in the plate glass. He’s pretending to be looking into that jewelry store window but he’s really watching us.”

  “You mean the man in the gray topcoat?”

  “Yes.”

  “Maybe he’s a plain-clothes man who is after me,” Amy said uneasily.

  “We can soon find out. Come on!”

  Catching Amy’s arm, Penny steered her into the department store. They sauntered leisurely through the aisles, frequently pausing to examine merchandise. Unobtrusively, they kept watch of the main entrance.

  “Here he comes, just as I knew he would!” Penny exclaimed in an undertone as she caught a glimpse of the man entering the store. “We must shake him quickly now.”

  They walked swiftly down the aisle and took a crowded elevator to the top floor.

  “Now we’ll walk down three flights of stairs,” Penny commanded.

  Already they had lost sight of the man, but to make certain that he would not catch them again, they crossed to the opposite side of the building and took a down-going elevator to the main floor. Mingling with the crowd they emerged upon the street.

  “We certainly gave him the slip,” Amy laughed.

  “My father taught me that trick. Even a trained detective finds it difficult to follow a person who is aware he is being shadowed.”

  “I guess I’ll say goodbye to you here,” Amy said regretfully. “I hope I’ll see you again soon.”

  “Yes, indeed. I intend to talk with Mrs. Dillon about that painting she bought. I’ll let you know what she says.”

  The girls parted company but Penny did not leave the scene. Instead, she walked across the street, establishing herself in a doorway where she could keep watch of the department store entrance.

  “Two can play at this game of shadowing,” she chuckled.

  It was nearly twenty minutes before the man who had been following Penny and Amy emerged from the store. She noted him instantly. He was a tall, thin man dressed entirely in gray.

  “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen him before,” Penny thought.

  When the man moved off down the street, she crossed the street and trailed him. He walked swiftly and did not once glance backward, apparently having no suspicion that he was being followed.

  Once the man paused to glance into the window of a pawnshop. He turned down East Franklyn Street which led through a dirty, poverty-stricken district to the river. Presently, Penny saw him enter a run-down, dilapidated brick building.

  In the doorway he met another man, evidently the janitor who caught him roughly by the arm as he endeavored to pass.

  “Just a minute, you,” he said. “I’ve been trying to find you for a week. How about that rent you owe?”

  “Try and get it!”

  “I’ll get it all right,” the janitor returned threateningly. “If I don’t I may make it my business to find out why you rented the entire top floor.”

  A strange look came over the other man’s face. Reaching into his pocket he pulled out a large roll of bills.

  “How much?”

  “Fifty dollars.”

  “Here it is. And a five for yourself. Now don’t bother me again.”

  And with that the man strode angrily into the building and mounted a long flight of stairs which led to the top floor.

  CHAPTER XI

  A Visitor

  Penny watched the janitor closely after the man in gray had vanished into the building. From his inside coat pocket he removed a billfold and carefully deposited the fifty dollars in it. The five dollar bill he shoved into his trousers pocket, a possessive smirk on his face.

  Penny moved forward to accost the man.

  “How do you do,” she greeted. “Are you the custodian of this building?”

  “Yes, I am,” he replied surlily. “If you have anything to sell, get out!”

  “Oh, I’m not a saleswoman. I am looking for a place to rent.”

  “Is that so? Well, you’ve come to the wrong place. We are filled up.”

  Penny was aware that the janitor regarded her suspiciously. She did not believe that he was speaking the truth for she had noticed many apparently unoccupied rooms in the building.

  “But you may have vacancies in the future, I suppose,” she commented. “You see, I like the outlook a person would get from your top floor.”

  “That top floor is rented.”

  “Could you tell me the name of the party—?”

  “No, I couldn’t,” the janitor interrupted irritably. “Run along now. I’m not interested in your chatter.”

  “All right, I’ll go,” Penny replied, “but you may hear from me again. And when I return, I’ll bring a mate to that five dollar bill you just slipped into your pocket!”

  Before the man had recovered from his surprise she turned and walked briskly down the street in the direction of her father’s office. She deeply regretted her last remark for she realized that the janitor might repeat it to the man who occupied the top floor. She had not intended to reveal how much she had seen.

  Penny entered her father’s office just as he was leaving on a business errand.

  “Hello, Dad,” she called out. “I seem to have caught the bird on the wing.”

  Mr. Nichols smiled at his young daughter and obligingly hung his hat back on the rack.

  “My flight is off now that the fledgling has returned to the nest. What’s on your mind now, Penny?”

  “This little ornament, for one thing.” Penny unwrapped the model of th
e Black Imp which Amy Coulter had given her and set it down on her father’s desk. “Doesn’t he look kind of lonesome and, well—mysterious?”

  “He does at that,” Mr. Nichols said as he picked up the little art piece and turned it over and over. “I should say the fellow has a wicked glint to his eye.”

  “Be careful how you handle him,” Penny warned. “The clay is still damp.”

  Mr. Nichols placed the figure back on the desk. “It’s a very clever design. I don’t suppose this is that Black Imp you were telling me about?”

  “It’s a copy of the original.”

  “How did you get it?”

  “I guess you might say I swiped it,” Penny smiled, “or rather, Amy and I did together.”

  “You don’t make yourself very clear.”

  Penny related her experience in Hanley Cron’s studio, but at mention of the jewelry theft, Mr. Nichols lost all interest in the Black Imp. He insisted upon hearing every detail of the theft.

  “It doesn’t surprise me a bit,” he declared when Penny finished the story. “I warned Mrs. Dillon that necklace would be stolen if she didn’t get it locked up.”

  “She lost it on the way to the bank, Dad. Perhaps she thinks now that if she hadn’t attempted to follow your advice, the pearls would still be safe.”

  “Nonsense!” Mr. Nichols exclaimed impatiently. “That necklace was stolen by someone who was lying in wait for her. Possibly by one of the same thieves who attempted to hold up the Dillon ball the other evening.”

  “Mrs. Dillon did make a grave mistake to carry the pearls unguarded,” Penny admitted. “But it seems to me the thief must have been someone who was in the house after the holdup.”

  “Why do you think that?”

  “Because otherwise how would the thief have known that Mrs. Dillon intended to take her necklace to the bank today? You remember she spoke of the matter openly before her guests.”

  “I remember,” Mr. Nichols smiled.

  “And Mrs. Dillon made an appointment to meet Hanley Cron at his studio before she went to the bank. The thief apparently was waiting for her in front of the building. It was no casual snatch. I’m sure of that.”

  “Your reasoning is very good,” Mr. Nichols praised. “Tell me, who overheard this conversation between Mrs. Dillon and Hanley Cron?”

  “Why, I did. There were some other people standing not far away, but I doubt that they heard. At least they did not appear to be listening.”

  “So you’re the only person who knew of the appointment,” Mr. Nichols said jokingly.

  “Don’t look at me like that,” Penny laughed. “I swear I didn’t take the necklace even if I was on the scene.”

  “I’ll not turn you over to the police without more evidence,” the detective promised. “I was just on my way to the station when you dropped in.”

  “I didn’t mean to detain you.”

  “The matter was of no great importance. I merely wanted to inquire if the police had made any progress tracing the Dillon holdup men. It’s queer how they made such a neat get-away.”

  “I don’t think the police are very alert,” Penny grumbled. “After Mrs. Dillon’s handbag was snatched they were on the scene within ten minutes, but I imagine the thief will never be captured.”

  “You expect results too quickly, Penny,” her father smiled. “From what you’ve told me I imagine this purse-snatcher is a member of an organized gang. The theft was no casual affair. Every detail was carefully planned.”

  “I wish you were on the case, Dad.”

  “I don’t. I have enough troubles without wishing more upon myself. I really am not—”

  He broke off as the telephone rang. “Hello,” he said gruffly into the transmitter, then his face became sober as he silently listened. “Drop into my office tomorrow at nine,” he terminated the conversation. “I’ll give you my decision then.”

  “You sound like one of the judges of the Supreme Court,” Penny chuckled as her father hung up the receiver. “What’s this momentous decision you’re to hand down?”

  Mr. Nichols sat drumming his fingers against the edge of the desk.

  “That was the Reliance Insurance Company. They want me to take the Dillon case.”

  “You don’t mean in regard to Mrs. Dillon’s lost necklace?”

  “Yes, that’s it.”

  “But Dad, how does the insurance company figure in the case? The pearls weren’t insured.”

  “As it happens, they were. For fifteen thousand dollars.”

  “But I heard Mrs. Dillon say to you herself that the necklace had never been insured.”

  “Yes. Apparently, she didn’t tell the truth.”

  “She acted dreadfully upset over the loss. What reason would she have for telling you a deliberate falsehood about the insurance?”

  “I wonder myself.”

  “Are the pearls worth fifteen thousand?” Penny asked thoughtfully.

  “No more than that certainly. It seems, too, that the policy was taken out from the insurance company only a few weeks ago.”

  “The company doesn’t think that the robbery was planned surely?”

  “It was planned all right—but whether by Mrs. Dillon I’m in no position to say.”

  “But why should she wish to resort to such a trick just to collect insurance?” Penny protested. “The Dillons are wealthy.”

  “Ostensibly so, at least. However, even to Mrs. Dillon, fifteen thousand might look attractive.”

  “I don’t believe she’s as honest as she should be,” Penny admitted reluctantly. “At least that stolen picture isn’t in her favor. She must have bought it with a full knowledge of what she was doing.”

  Christopher Nichols nodded thoughtfully.

  “Will you take the case?” Penny questioned hopefully.

  “I haven’t decided yet. I admit I’m beginning to grow interested in it.”

  While the two were talking, Miss Arrow, the secretary, swiftly entered the room.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt,” she apologized, “but that dreadful man is here again.”

  “Which dreadful man?” the detective inquired, smiling.

  “Max Lynch.”

  “Oh.”

  “Don’t see him,” Penny pleaded. “He might attempt to harm you, Dad.”

  Mr. Nichols paid no heed. He turned to Miss Arrow. “Is he carrying a gun?”

  “I don’t think so, Mr. Nichols. But I couldn’t be certain.”

  “Please don’t see him,” Penny begged earnestly. “Max Lynch has a grudge against you.”

  “Now don’t get yourself worked up, Penny,” he chided, opening the top drawer of his desk to make certain that his own revolver was at hand for immediate use in an emergency. “I’ll be in no danger, and Max may prove useful to me.”

  “Useful?”

  “Yes, he’s an expert on jewels and it’s a well known fact he sometimes handles stolen gems.”

  “You think he may know something about Mrs. Dillon’s necklace?”

  “I don’t suppose he had anything to do with the theft, Penny, but likely he has a pretty good idea who handled the job.”

  “Shall I tell him to come in?” Miss Arrow questioned.

  “Yes, I’ll see him.”

  “I suppose I’ll have to go,” Penny said reluctantly.

  “Please,” the detective requested.

  Miss Arrow already had departed. As Penny reached the door she met Max Lynch coming in. He stood aside for her to pass, but there was no deference in the action. He eyed the girl insolently.

  “Your daughter, Nichols?” he demanded.

  “Yes,” the detective answered shortly.

  “Not bad looking.”

  “We’ll leave her out of the conversation,” Nichols said sharply. “What brought you here this time, Max?”

  Without replying, Lynch leisurely sat down in a chair opposite the detective. He calmly helped himself to a cigar on the desk. But he never lighted it. For as he reached int
o his pocket after a match, he noticed an object directly in front of him. It was the Black Imp.

  For an instant he stared at the figure, the expression of self-confidence completely washed from his face.

  He hastily arose and his chair, as he pushed it back, made a harsh grating noise on the floor. Instinctively, Christopher Nichols’ hand moved swiftly toward the top drawer of his desk. But there was no need for alarm. Max Lynch did not reach for his gun. Instead he made for the door.

  “You’re leaving?” Nichols asked.

  Max did not reply. But as he went out the door, he glanced back over his shoulder, and for a fleeting moment his eyes rested in fascinated fear on the figure of the Black Imp.

  CHAPTER XII

  The Missing Workman

  No sooner had Max Lynch banged out of the office than Penny came hurrying in.

  “What happened?” she questioned her father.

  “Nothing. Max just decided to leave.”

  “You must have said something to him,” Penny insisted. “When he went out he looked actually frightened. His face was as white as if he’d seen a ghost.”

  “I don’t know what made Max change his mind about wanting to talk with me,” the detective said, frowning thoughtfully. “He seemed to be startled when he saw that statue of yours.”

  “The Black Imp?” Penny asked in surprise.

  “Yes, he took one look at it and started off without a word of explanation.”

  Curiously, the detective picked up the figure and carefully examined it.

  “I can’t see anything wrong with it,” he admitted. “You say this statue came from Hanley Cron’s studio?”

  “Yes, he was angry when Amy tried to take it away from him. Then the policeman came in and he seemed afraid to protest.”

  The detective made no reply. He sat lost in thought for a moment, then arose.

  “Well, I guess I’ll amble over to the police station.”

  “Then I may as well be going home,” Penny said. She picked up the Black Imp from the desk and carefully wrapped it.

  “I’ll take you in the car if you like.”