CHAPTER 23 _FORGOTTEN EVENTS_
In the upstairs bedroom, Penny moved with velvet tread. Noiselessly sherearranged a vase of flowers and closed the slat of a Venetian blind.
"You needn't be so quiet," said Mr. Parker from the bed. "I've been awakea long time now."
Penny went swiftly to his side. "How are you feeling this afternoon,Dad?"
"Afternoon?" Mr. Parker demanded, sitting up. "How long have I beensleeping?"
"Roughly, about two days."
Mr. Parker threw off the covers.
"Oh, no, you don't," said Penny, pressing him back against the pillow."Doctor Greer says you are to have absolute bed rest for several days.It's part of the treatment."
"Treatment for what?" grumbled Mr. Parker. "I feel fine!"
"That's wonderful," declared Penny, with a deep sigh of relief. "I'llhave Mrs. Weems bring up something for you to eat."
She called down the stairway to the housekeeper, and then returned to thebedside. Her father looked more like his former self than at any timesince the strange motor accident which had caused him to lose his memory.His voice too, was more natural.
"Guess I must have had a bad dream," Mr. Parker murmured, his gaze rovingslowly about the room. "I seem to recall riding around in a taxi, andbeing pushed out into the snow."
"You know where you are now, don't you?" asked Penny.
"Certainly. I'm at home."
Mrs. Weems came into the room bearing a tray of food. Hearing Mr.Parker's words, she looked at Penny and tears sprang to her eyes.
"Doctor Greer was right," she whispered. "His memory is slowly comingback. How thankful I am!"
"What's all this?" Mr. Parker inquired alertly. "Will someone kindly tellme why I am being imprisoned in this bed?"
"Because you've been very, very sick," Penny said, arranging the food infront of him. "You know who I am now, don't you?"
"Why, certainly," replied Mr. Parker indignantly. "You're my daughter.Your name is--now let me think--"
"Penny."
"To be sure," agreed Mr. Parker, in confusion. "Fancy forgetting my owndaughter's name!"
"You've forgotten a number of other things too, Dad. But events graduallyare coming back to you. Suppose you tell me your name."
"My name?" Mr. Parker looked bewildered. "Why, I don't remember. It's notJones. I took that name because I couldn't think of my own. What's wrongwith me?"
Penny tucked a napkin beneath her father's chin and offered him aspoonful of beef broth.
"What's wrong with me?" Mr. Parker demanded again. "Am I a lunatic? Can'teither of you tell me the truth?"
"You're recovering from a severe case of amnesia," revealed Penny. "Thedoctor says it was brought on by overwork in combination with the shockof being in an auto accident. Since you were hurt you've not rememberedwhat happened before that time."
"I do recall the auto mishap," Mr. Parker said slowly. "Another carcrowded me off the road. The crash stunned me, and my mind was a sort ofblank. Then a pleasant woman took me to her home."
"A pleasant woman, Dad?"
"Why, yes, Mrs. Botts gave me a nice room and good food. I liked itthere. But one night a girl broke in--could that have been you, Penny?"
"Indeed, it was."
"When Mrs. Botts came home she was very excited," Mr. Parker resumedmeditatively. "She said I had to leave. She hustled me out of the housewith two strangers."
"One of the men was Ropes Mollinberg, a member of the tire-theft gang."
"Yes, that was his name!" Mr. Parker agreed. "Speaking of tire thieves,I've been intending to write an editorial for the paper. Penny, pleasehave my secretary come in. I'll dictate the material while it is fresh inmy mind."
Mrs. Weems looked slightly distressed. Penny, however, whisked away thetray of food. Getting pencil and paper she again sat down beside herfather.
"Your secretary isn't available just now, but I'll take down what youwant to say."
Penny could not write shorthand so she only pretended to jot down notes.Mr. Parker led off with a few crisp sentences, then wandered vaguely fromone idea to another.
"I can't seem to think straight any more," he complained. "Type that upplease and let me see it before it goes to the compositors."
"How shall I sign the editorial?" Penny inquired.
"Why, with my name--Anthony Parker."
Penny jumped up and fairly laughed with joy.
"Dad, events are coming back to you! You've just recalled your name andthat's a big step forward."
"Anthony Parker," the publisher murmured. "Yes, that's it! Now there'sanother matter that troubles me. I had a brief case--"
"It was stolen by those men who took you away," Penny supplied eagerly."Dad, if only you could remember what those lost papers contained, we'dexpose the entire tire-theft gang!"
Mr. Parker thought for a long while, then shook his head.
"Mind's a blank, Penny. What does the doctor say? Is there a chance mymemory ever will return?"
"Of course," returned Penny heartily. "You've already recalled a numberof important things. Me, for instance! Doctor Greer thinks that withrest, events will gradually return to mind. Or another shock, perhaps ablow somewhat similar to the one you had, might bring everything back."
"Well, what are we waiting for?" Mr. Parker joked. "Go get the sledgehammer!"
"It's not that easy, I'm afraid."
"I'm afraid not, either," sighed Mr. Parker wearily. "Guess I'll sleepsome more now. I feel pretty tired."
During the days that followed, the publisher made a slow but steadyrecovery. At first Penny did not worry him by mentioning how matters hadgone at the _Star_ office. Only after Mr. Parker was well enough to spendseveral hours a day at the plant, did she reveal how Harley Schirr hadsought to establish himself as editor of the paper.
"That fellow!" exclaimed Mr. Parker in annoyance. "Why, I meant todischarge him and he knew it. I have evidence in my safe showing thatSchirr accepted money from a local politician."
"You did have evidence," Penny corrected. "While you were away, Mr.Schirr went through your safe."
Amazed by the boldness of his former employee, Mr. Parker immediatelyexamined the contents of both his desk and strongbox. To his chagrin hefound that Penny was right. Every document pertaining to Schirr wasmissing.
"Well, it doesn't matter," the publisher said philosophically. "He'llnever set foot in this office again, nor in any other Riverviewnewspaper!"
"Dad," said Penny, "I've wondered if Schirr may not be hooked up with thetire-theft gang. What do you think?"
"My poor thinker isn't much good these days. However, I very much doubtit, Penny. Schirr always was a snoop and not above taking money forwriting biased stories. My judgment would be that he has no connectionwith the Mollinberg outfit."
"If only you could remember what was in your stolen portfolio!" Pennysighed.
"If only I could!" agreed Mr. Parker. "Sometimes I doubt I'll ever fullyrecover my memory."
"Oh, you will, Dad. You're doing better every day."
Penny seldom spoke of the automobile accident which had caused herfather's trouble for the subject was a painful one to them both. Althoughthe publisher had been absolved of all blame, police had not succeeded intracing the hit-skip driver.
Mr. Parker seemed well and strong. Each day he went to the office forlonger and longer periods. Gradually his memory was returning, yet he hadbeen unable to recall data which might bring about the capture of thetire-theft gang. Strangely, he could remember nothing of his intention tocall at the State Prosecutor's office. Nor could he disclose a scrap ofevidence which had been carried in the stolen portfolio.
"If only Jerry would wire or return from his vacation!" Penny commentedanxiously. "I can't understand why he doesn't reply to my message."
The reporter's long absence had caused considerable worry at the _Star_office. Jerry was the one person who coul
d divulge the contents of thestolen portfolio documents, but repeated wires failed to bring anyresponse.
"Jerry will show up one of these days," Mr. Parker said confidently. "Theonly trouble is, by that time the higher-ups of the tire-theft gang mayhave skipped town."
"Dad, can't you remember the men who took you away in the taxi?"
"Only vaguely. I've described them to police as best I can. So far, noaction."
Penny was silent for a moment. In her mind she had been turning over away to bring the crooks to justice. It seemed to her that the men mightbe identified through Black Market operators with whom they must havedealings.
"Now what are you keeping from me?" inquired Mr. Parker lightly.
"I was thinking about a place known as Mattie Williams' garage," repliedPenny. "I've good reason to suspect it deals in stolen tires."
She went on to tell of her recent adventure in the storage room of thegarage. The information did not excite Mr. Parker as she had feared itmight. Instead, it fired him with a determination to get at the truth ofthe matter.
"Penny, we'll break our story yet!" he exclaimed, reaching for his hat."Let's go to Mattie's place now!"
"Unless we actually see the inside of the storage room we'll learnnothing. You may be sure Mattie and her partner won't cooperate."
"We'll get into that room somehow," returned Mr. Parker grimly. "I'lltake along a few pet skeleton keys just for luck."
At the Williams' garage an hour later, they found Mattie and Sam busywith repair work.
"Be with you in a minute," the woman called to Mr. Parker.
"No hurry," replied the publisher. "No hurry whatsoever."
He and Penny wandered aimlessly about. Choosing a moment when both Samand Mattie were inside the office, they slipped unnoticed into the roomwhere the empty boxes had been stored.
"Now show me the tunnel," urged the publisher. "We'll have to work fast!"
Penny swung back the hinged boards of the big box. She led her fatherbetween a high aisle of crates to the locked door of the inner room.
"Now if only I have a key that will unlock it!" muttered Mr. Parker.
He tried several. At length one did fit the keyhole, the lock clicked,and he was able to push open the door.
In the little storage room close to the outside building wall were tiresof all sizes and description. Some were new, still wrapped in cleanpaper. Others appeared slightly used.
"See, Dad!" Penny cried triumphantly. "I was right!"
"We still have no proof this rubber was illegally obtained."
Penny darted forward to inspect a stack of tires which rose half way tothe ceiling.
"Here's one that might have come off my car!" she cried. "See! Mine had atiny cut place where I rammed the maple tree backing out of our garage!"
"All tires look alike, Penny. Without the serial number--"
"I do remember part of it. One was 8910 something."
"Then this isn't your tire," replied Mr. Parker, reading the number."However, I shouldn't be surprised that these are stolen tires."
Penny held up her hand as a signal for silence.
"Quiet, Dad!" she whispered.
Footsteps had sounded in the tunnel between the boxes. The next instantthe door was flung open. Penny and her father stood face to face with SamBurkholder.