"How'd you make out, son?"
"She's all took care of an' on 'er way to Hartwell City. Ike says he'll
fetch you the cash in a day or two."
"Git to bed soon's you kin," the older man said, apparently pleased by
the information. "Your Ma's tired and wants to git to sleep 'for
mawning."
He moved back into the house, closing the door.
"Guess we've learned all we can," Salt remarked. "We may as well get a
little shut-eye ourselves."
Penny, however, was unwilling to leave so soon.
"I wish we could find out what is in that big container, Salt! After
those Hawkins' boys leave, maybe we could sneak a peek."
"And get caught!"
"We can be careful. Salt, we've stumbled into a lot of information
tonight that may prove very valuable. We'll never have another chance
like it. Come on, Salt, it's worth a try."
Despite his better judgment, Salt allowed himself to be persuaded. For
ten minutes the pair waited near the fence. Finally they saw Hod and Coon
Hawkins emerge from the shed and enter the house.
Another ten minutes they waited. By that time the light had been
extinguished inside the house.
"Everyone's abed now," Penny said in satisfaction. "Now for the
woodshed!"
Crossing the field, the pair approached the tumbledown building from the
side away from the house. The woodshed door was closed.
Penny groped for the knob and instead, her hand encountered a chain and
padlock.
"Locked!" she muttered impatiently. "Just our luck!"
The rattle of the chain had disturbed a hound penned inside the shed.
Before Salt and Penny could retreat, the animal's paws scratched against
the door and he uttered a deep and prolonged bay.
"Jeepers!" exclaimed Salt. "We've got to get away from here--and fast!"
Already it was too late. A window on the second floor of the house flew
up and Mrs. Hawkins in cotton nightdress and lace cap, peered down into
the yard.
"Who's there?" she called sharply. "Answer up if you ain't hankerin' fer
a bullet through yer innards!"
CHAPTER
11
_AN ABANDONED CAR_
For Salt and Penny, the moment was a perilous one. In plain view of the
upstairs window, they could not hope to escape detection.
But shrewdly, they reasoned that Mrs. Hawkins could not be certain they
had been trying to break into the woodshed.
"Oh, is that you, Mrs. Hawkins?" Penny called as cheerily as if greeting
an old friend. "I hope we didn't awaken you."
The farm woman leaned far out the window. "Who be ye folkses?" she
demanded suspiciously. "What you doin' here?"
"Don't you remember me?" Penny asked. "I stopped here this afternoon with
my girl friend. We had a drink at your pump."
"Humph! That ain't no gal with you now! Who is he?"
"Oh, just a friend who works at--" Penny was on the verge of saying the
_Riverview Star_, but caught herself in time and finished--"a friend who
works where I do."
"And what you spyin' around here for?"
"We're looking for another friend of ours."
"'Pears to me you got a heap o' friends," the woman said harshly. "This
afternoon you was cryin' you lost a dog."
"It was Louise who lost the dog," said Penny, well realizing that her
story would never convince the woman.
"Whatever you lost, man or beast, git off this property and don't come
back!" Mrs. Hawkins ordered. "We hain't seen no dog, and we hain't seen
none o' yer friends. Now git!"
Another face had appeared at the window--that of the bearded stranger
Penny had seen earlier in the day on Lookout Point. No longer could she
doubt that he was Ezekiel Hawkins, the man who a few minutes earlier had
ordered his two sons to bed.
"We're leaving now," said Salt, before Penny had an opportunity to speak
again of Louise's missing dog. "Sorry to have bothered you."
Taking Penny firmly by an elbow, he pulled her along. Not until they had
reached the fence safely did they look back.
In the upper window of the Hawkins' house a light continued to burn
dimly.
"We're still being watched," Salt commented. He helped Penny over the
fence, disentangling her dress which snagged on a wire. "Whew! That was a
close call! That old biddy would have enjoyed putting a bullet through
us!"
"She dared to say Louise's dog hadn't been seen! All the while her
husband stood right there! He's the one who refused to let us go after
Bones this afternoon!"
"Sure?"
"Almost positive."
"Well, all I can say is the Hawkins' are mean customers," Salt sighed.
"Stealing a dog probably is right in their line."
"They're up to other tricks too!"
"Oh, undoubtedly. Wish we could have learned what was in those cans they
were trucking to the city."
In the press car, speeding toward Riverview, the pair discussed all
phases of their night's adventure. Failure to learn anything about
Jerry's whereabouts worried them.
Presently, worn out, Penny slumped against Salt's shoulder and fell
asleep. She was awakened when the car stopped with a jerk.
"Where are we?" she mumbled drowsily. "Home?"
"Not yet, baby," he answered, shutting off the engine.
Penny straightened in the seat, brushing away a lock of hair which had
tumbled over her left eye. Peering through the window she saw that they
still were out in the country.
"What are we stopping here for, Salt?" she asked in astonishment. "Don't
tell me we've run out of gas!"
"Nothing like that," he said easily. "Just go back to sleep. I'll be
right back."
"You'll be right back! Where are you going, Salt Sommers?"
"Only down the road a ways. We passed a car, and I want to have a better
look at it."
By now Penny was fully awake.
"I'm going with you," she announced.
Salt held the door open for her. "This probably is a waste of time," he
admitted.
"Was it a car you saw in the ditch?" Penny questioned, walking fast to
keep up with him. "An accident?"
"Don't think so. The car seemed to be parked back in the bushes on a road
bisecting this one."
"What's so unusual in that?"
"Nothing perhaps. Only the car looked familiar."
"Not Jerry's coupe?"
"No. There it is now--see!" Salt pointed through the trees to an old
upright vehicle of antiquated style. His flashlight picked up the numbers
on the rear license plate.
"K-4687!" Penny read aloud. "Mrs. Jones' stolen auto!"
"It sure is," the photographer agreed in satisfaction. "Abandoned!"
"By whom? The Hawkins' boys?"
"Maybe. Let's have a closer look."
While Penny stood by, Salt made a thorough inspection of the old car. The
battery was dead. Ignition keys, still in the lock, had been left turned
on.
As the photographer flashed his light about, Penny noticed a package of
cigarettes lying on the seat. She picked them up and sniffed.
"Necos," she declared. "Salt, one of the persons who rode in this car
must have slugged Jerry at the theater!"
"Maybe, but we can't be sure. Necos aren't a common brand of cigarettes.
On the other hand, I've known several fellows who smoke them."
A thorough inspection of the car revealed no other clues.
"We may as well get back to town," Salt said finally. "Mrs. Jones will be
glad to learn her car has been recovered. We can let her know tomorrow
after police have had a chance to inspect it."
Neither he nor Penny had much to say as they motored toward Riverview.
Both were deeply discouraged by their failure to find any trace of Jerry.
"It's barely possible hospital officials were able to catch up with him,"
Penny said after a while, her eyes on the dark ribbon of highway ahead.
"We might stop somewhere and telephone."
"Good idea," agreed Salt. "We're practically in the city now."
Already they could see the twinkling lights, laid out in rectangular
street patterns. Directly ahead, at the corporation boundary, Penny saw
the flashing electric sign of a hamburger hut operated by Mark Fiello, a
genial old Italian.
"We might stop there," she suggested. "Mark will let us use his phone."
"Also, he has good hamburgers and coffee," Salt added. "I could go for
some food!"
Mark, a stout, grizzled man in slightly soiled apron, was frying bacon
and hamburgers at the grill as he shouted orders to a helper in the
kitchen.
"You, Frankey!" he bellowed. "Git your nose outta dat ice cream and
squeeze another quart of orange juice! What you think I pay you for--to
eat me out of business?"
As Penny and Salt slid onto stools in front of the counter, he turned
toward them to ask briskly: "What'll it be, folks?"
"Now Mark, don't give us the professional brush off," Salt joked. "Make
mine a hamburger with everything on."
"And mine with everything off--especially onions," added Penny.
"Two hamburgers coming right up," chuckled Mark, flattening twin hunks of
ground meat on the grill. "I giva you good beeg ones. One-a with, and
one-a without. Haven't seen you folks in a long while. How you been?"
"Pretty well, Mark, until tonight," replied Penny. "May we use your
phone?"
"It's your nickel, ain't it?" chuckled Mark. "Go right ahead."
"Looks as if we'll have to wait until your helper gets through using it,"
observed Salt.
"That worthless no-good!" Mark snorted. "I pay him thirty dolla a week to
eat his head off and all the time calla dat girl of his! You, Frankey!
Git off dat phone and git to work on them oranges!"
Frank, a youth of sallow complexion and unsteady gaze, dropped the
telephone receiver as if it were a red hot coal.
He mumbled a "call you later," into the transmitter, hung up, and ducked
into the kitchen.
"Such bad luck I have this summer," sighed Mark, expertly turning the
hamburgers and salting them. "Six helpers I hire and fire. All no good.
They talka big, eat big--but work? Naw!"
"It's a tough life," Salt agreed, fishing for a coin in his pocket.
"Change for a dime, Mark?"
"Sure. Who you calla tonight? Big scoop for de paper, eh?"
"I wish it were," said Salt. "We've had a tough night."
"Jerry's missing," Penny added earnestly. "He was taken to the hospital
this afternoon, but he walked out. We're trying to find him because he's
in no condition to be wandering about."
Mark's jaw had dropped and for a moment he forgot the hamburgers sizzling
on the grill.
"You looka for Jerry? Jerry Livingston?"
"Sure, you know him," Salt replied, starting for the telephone. "He used
to be one of your favorite customers."
"Well, what do y'know!" mumbled Mark, obviously surprised. "What do
y'know! Listen, I tell you something!"
"About Jerry?" Penny asked eagerly.
"You looka for your friend too late!"
"Too late? What do you mean, Mark? Jerry hasn't been hurt?"
"No! No! Your friend is all right like always. Twenty minutes ago, he
eata three hamburgs on dis same stool where you sit now!"
"Jerry was here!" Penny cried joyfully. "Mark, are you sure?"
"Sure, I am sure! Jerry eata three beeg hamburgs, drinka two beeg cups of
java, then go away."
"Did he seem dazed or confused?"
"Your friend the same as always. Make-a the joke."
On the grill, the hamburgers were beginning to burn at the edges. Mark
flipped them between buns, adding generous quantities of mustard, pickle,
catsup, and sliced onions to Salt's sandwich.
Penny now was so excited she scarcely could take time to eat.
"Which way did Jerry go when he left here?" she questioned eagerly.
"He crossa de street. After dat, I did not see."
"Jerry lives in the St. Agnes Apartments not far from here," Salt
recalled. "Maybe he's there now!"
Quickly finishing their sandwiches, the pair gave Mark a dollar, refusing
to accept change. As they started away, he followed them to the door.
"You know-a somebody who wanta good job, good pay?" he whispered.
"Frankey is eating me outta all my profits. You know-a somebody?"
"Afraid we don't," Salt replied. "We'll keep it in mind though, and if we
hear of anyone wanting work, we'll send him around."
From the hamburger hut, Penny and Salt drove directly to the St. Agnes
Apartment Hotel. The clerk on duty could not tell them if Jerry were in
his room or not.
"Go on up if you want to," he suggested. "Room 207."
Climbing the stairs, they pounded on the door. There was no answer. Salt
tried again. Not a sound came from inside the room.
"It's no use," the photographer said in disappointment. "Mark may have
been mistaken. Anyway, Jerry's not here."
CHAPTER
12
_A JOB FOR PENNY_
Penny gazed at Salt in grim despair. "I was so sure Jerry would be here,"
she murmured. "What can we do now?"
"We've run down every clue," he replied gloomily. "If he isn't at the
hospital, I'm afraid it's a case for the police."
"But Mark was so sure he had seen Jerry tonight. Try once more, Salt."
"Okay, but it's useless. He's not here."
Again Salt hammered on the door with his fist. He was turning away when a
sleepy voice called: "Who's there?"
"Jerry is in there!" Penny cried. "Thank goodness, he's safe!"
"Open up, you lug!" ordered Salt.
A bed creaked, footsteps padded across the carpet and the door swung
back. Jerry, in silk dressing gown, blinked sleepily out at them.
"What do you want?" he mumbled. "Can't you let a fellow catch forty winks
without sending out the riot squad?"
"How are you feeling, Jerry, my boy?" Salt inquired solicitously.
"Never felt better in my life, except I'm sleepy."
"Then what made you walk out of the hospital?"
"I don't like hospitals."
"We ought to punch you in the nose for making us so much trouble," Salt
said affectionately. "Here we spent half the night searching the swamp
for you!"