CHAPTER 3 AN UNPLEASANT DRIVER

From outside the lighted cafe, the girls could see the truck driver slouched at one of the counter stools.

“I’m willing to go inside,” said Louise, “but why start a fuss? After all, I suppose he had a right to refuse us a ride.”

“We might have frozen to death!”

“Well, he probably didn’t realize we were lost.”

“I wish I had your charitable disposition,” Penny said with a sniff. “He heard me shout, and he drove away just to be mean.”

“Anyway, let’s forget it.”

Louise took Penny’s elbow, steering her toward the cafe. The girls had been friends since grade school days. They made an excellent pair, for Louise exerted a subduing effect upon her impulsive chum.

The only daughter of Anthony Parker, publisher of the Star, Penny had a talent for innocently getting into trouble. Inactivity bored her. When nothing more exciting offered, she frequently tried her hand at writing stories for her father’s newspaper. Such truly important yarns as The Vanishing Houseboat, The Wishing Well, Behind the Green Door, and The Clock Strikes Thirteen had rolled from her typewriter. Penny thoroughly enjoyed reportorial work, but best of all she loved to take an active part in the adventures she recounted.

“Now remember,” Louise warned her, “not a word to that truck driver. We’ll just snub him.”

“Oh, all right. I’ll try to behave myself.”

Grinning, Penny allowed herself to be guided toward the restaurant. Near the doorway they came to the parked truck, and noticed that it was loaded with large wooden boxes.

“War equipment,” commented Penny.

“How do you know?”

“Why, the boxes are unmarked except by numerals. Haven’t you noticed, Lou, that’s the way machines and materials are transported to and from factories. It’s done so no one can tell what’s inside.”

Penny opened the door and they went into the warm, smoky cafe. As they seated themselves at a table the driver glanced toward them, but seemingly without recognition.

“How about a date tonight, Baby?” he asked the waitress.

Without replying, the girl slapped a menu card on the counter in front of him.

“High toned, ain’t you?” he chuckled.

“What will it be?” the waitress demanded impatiently.

“How about a nice smile, Baby?”

Turning away, the waitress started to serve another customer.

“Gimme a cup o’ coffee and two sinkers,” the driver hurled after her. “And make it snappy too! I’m in a hurry.”

Once the coffee and doughnuts had been set before him, the man was in no haste to consume them. He read a newspaper and fed a dollar and a half into a pin-ball machine.

Penny and Louise ordered coffee. Knowing that Salt might be waiting for them, they swallowed the brew scalding hot and arose to leave.

At the cashier’s desk Penny paid the bill. Upon impulse she quietly asked the man behind the cash register if he knew the driver.

“Fellow by the name of Hank Biglow,” he answered.

Before Penny could ask another question, a police patrol car screeched to a standstill just outside the restaurant. The cafe owner turned to stare as did the driver.

“What are those cops comin’ here for?” Hank Biglow demanded.

“How should I know?” retorted the cafe owner. “Maybe they want to ask you a few questions about that cargo you carry!”

“What do you mean by that crack?” the driver asked harshly.

As the cashier shrugged and did not reply, Hank allowed the matter to pass. Although he remained at the counter, he kept watching the police car through the window.

The brief interchange between cafe owner and driver had interested Penny. To delay her departure, she bought a candy bar and began to unwrap it.

Only one policeman had alighted from the car. Tramping into the cafe, he pounded his hands together and sought the warmth of a radiator.

“Mind if I have a little of your heat?” he asked the cafe owner.

“Help yourself.”

Penny had been watching Hank Biglow. A moment before the man had sat tense and nervous at the counter. Now he seemed completely relaxed and at ease as he sipped his coffee.

“Hello, Hank,” the policeman greeted him. “Didn’t see you at first. How’s the trucking business?”

“Okay,” the trucker growled. “Workin’ me night and day.”

The casual conversation disappointed Penny. Her first thought had been that Hank Biglow feared a police investigation. Seemingly, she had indulged in wishful thinking.

Having no further reason for remaining in the cafe, the girls stepped out into the storm.

“A pity that policeman wasn’t looking for Hank Biglow,” Penny muttered.

“I thought for a minute he was,” responded Louise, stooping to fasten the buckle of her heavy overshoe. “At least Hank acted peculiar.”

“You heard what the cashier said to him?”

“About the cargo he carried?”

“Yes,” nodded Penny, “what do you suppose he meant?”

“Don’t you think it was intended as a joke?”

“It didn’t seem that way to me, Lou. Hank took offense at the remark. He was as nervous as a cat, too.”

Penny stared curiously at the big truck which was parked not far from the police car.

“I wonder what can be in those big boxes, Lou?”

“A few minutes ago you said they contained tools or defense plant products.”

“That was only my guess. I assumed it from the lack of marking on the boxes.”

Penny paused beside the big truck. Pressing her face close to an opening between the slats, she counted ten large crates, all the same size and shape.

“Lou, maybe this isn’t defense plant merchandise,” she speculated. “Maybe it’s some sort of contraband....”

Penny’s words trailed off. Someone had touched her on the shoulder.

Whirling around, she faced the same policeman who a moment before had entered the cafe.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he inquired.

“Why, just looking,” stammered Penny. “We were wondering what’s inside these boxes.”

“Machinery,” replied the policeman. “Now skidoo! Behave yourselves or I’ll have to speak to your parents.”