CHAPTER 8 THE GREEN PARROT
Old Noah slapped his thigh and cackled with glee as he watched Sheriff Anderson splash about in the muddy water.
“That’ll teach you!” he shouted jubilantly. “You meddlin’ son of evil! Next time maybe you will know enough to mind your own business and leave my ark alone!”
Penny and Louise stood ready to toss the sheriff a rope, but he did not need it. Clinging to the floating gangplank, the man awkwardly propelled himself to shore. As he tried to climb up the steep bank, his boots slipped and he fell flat on his face in the mud. Old Noah went off into another fit of laughter which fairly shook the ark at its mooring.
“Laugh, you old coot!” the sheriff muttered, picking himself up. “I’ve been mighty patient with you, but there’s a limit. Tomorrow I’m coming back here with a detail of deputies. I’ll run you and your ark out o’ here if it’s the last thing I do!”
“Be off with you!” ordered Noah arrogantly. “Before my patience is gone!”
“Okay, Noah, you win this round,” the sheriff muttered furiously. “I’m going, but I’ll be back. And if this ark isn’t cleaned up or out o’ here, we’ll put you away!”
A sorry figure with his clothing wet and muddy, the official stomped angrily off into the woods.
“I’m afraid you antagonized the wrong man that time, Noah,” Penny remarked as the footsteps died away. “What will you do when he returns?”
“That time will never come,” Old Noah replied, undisturbed. “Before the Lord will allow the ark to be taken from me, he will smite my enemies with lightning from the Heavens.”
Penny and Louise had their own opinion of what would happen to the ark and its animals, but wisely said nothing to further disturb the old fellow. By this time the rain had entirely ceased and a ray of sunshine straggled through the ragged clouds.
“Well, guess this isn’t to be the Great Flood after all,” Penny remarked, studying the sky. “We’re most grateful for the shelter of your ark, Noah. Now if we can just reach shore, we’ll be on our way.”
“Aren’t you staying for dinner?” the old man asked in disappointment. “I’m fryin’ up a nice catfish.”
“I’m afraid we can’t remain today,” Penny answered. “Another time perhaps.” Using a long, hooked pole, Old Noah retrieved the drifting gangplank and refastened it to the ark.
“Farewell, my daughters,” he said regretfully as he bade them goodbye. “You and your friends always will be welcome to take refuge in my ark. The Great Flood is coming soon, but you are among the chosen.”
Feeling decidedly exhilarated by their meeting with such a strange character, Louise and Penny followed the twisting stream to the main river channel. Water was rising rapidly along the banks and at many places, bushes and tree branches dipped low in the swirling eddies.
“You know, if these spring rains keep up, Noah may get his big flood after all,” Penny remarked. “Poor old fellow! He certainly sealed the fate of his ark when he pushed Sheriff Anderson into Bug Run.”
Turning homeward toward the Thompson Bridge, the girls soon approached the river bank where police had searched for the escaped saboteur. Curious to see the locality by daylight, they detoured slightly in order to pass it.
“This is the place,” Penny said, indicating ground which had been trampled by many feet. “At the rate the river rises, the shore here will be under by tomorrow.”
“I suppose police learned everything they could last night.”
“Yes, they went over the area rather thoroughly,” Penny nodded. “I know they took photographs and made measurements of the saboteur’s footprints. Lucky they did, because the water has washed them all away.”
“You still can see where the automobile was parked,” Louise declared, pointing to tire tracks in the soft earth. “Were any real clues found, Penny?”
“Jerry told me police picked up a handkerchief bearing the initial ‘O.’”
“That could stand for Ottman!”
“Likewise Oscar or Oliver or Oxenstiern,” Penny added, frowning. “I’ll admit though, it doesn’t look too bright for Sara’s brother.”
Having satisfied their curiosity regarding the locality, the girls started on toward the bridge. Before they had gone a dozen feet, Penny’s eye was caught by an object lying half-buried in the mud. She picked it up gingerly and dangling it in front of Louise was amazed to discover that it was a man’s leather billfold.
“Anything inside?” inquired Louise with interest.
Penny opened the flap and explored the various divisions of the money container. To her disappointment it held nothing save one small card upon which had been scribbled a few words.
“‘The Green Parrot—’” she read aloud. “‘Tuesday at 9:15.’ Now what does that mean?”
Beneath the notation appeared another: “The American Protective Society.”
“I guess it doesn’t mean much of anything,” commented Louise, digging at the mud which had collected on her shoes. “Probably an appointment card.”
“You don’t suppose this billfold was dropped by the saboteur?” Penny asked thoughtfully. “It’s very near the place where he crawled out of the river.”
“Wouldn’t the police have picked it up if they had considered it of any importance?”
“I doubt they ever saw it, Lou. The billfold was half buried in mud. I’d never have seen it myself if I hadn’t almost stepped on it.”
“Why not turn it over to the police?”
“Guess I will,” Penny decided, replacing the card in the billfold and wrapping them both in her handkerchief. “Did you ever hear of the American Protective Society, Lou?”
“Never did. Nor ‘The Green Parrot’ either—whatever that is.”
“I think The Green Parrot is a cafe or a night club with none too good a reputation,” Penny said thoughtfully. “I’m sure I’ve heard Dad say it’s a gambling place.”
Without further adventure, the girls resumed their trek and soon reached a bus line. Upon arriving home, Penny’s first act was to consult the telephone directory. She could find neither The Green Parrot nor the American Protective Society listed.
“Mrs. Weems, did you ever hear of a place called The Green Parrot?” she questioned the housekeeper.
“Isn’t that a restaurant the police closed down a few months ago?” replied Mrs. Weems. “Now why should you be bothering your head about The Green Parrot?”
Penny showed her the billfold and explained where she had found it.
“Dear me,” sighed the housekeeper. “How you can get into so many affairs of this kind is a wonder to me. I’m sure it worries your father too.”
“Not Dad,” laughed Penny. “Since I dug up that big story for him about the old Wishing Well, he’s been reconciled to my career of news gathering.”
“Wishing wells and saboteurs are two entirely different matters,” the housekeeper returned firmly. “I do hope you turn this billfold over to police and forget about suspicious characters.”
“I’m only worried about one,” rejoined Penny. “It bothers me because I involved Burt Ottman in such a mess. I’m not so sure he’s guilty.”
“And again, the police probably know exactly what they are about,” replied Mrs. Weems. “Now please take that billfold to the authorities and let them do the worrying.”
Thus urged, Penny carried the money container to the local police station. Unable to talk to any of the detectives connected with the dynamiting case, she left the billfold with a desk sergeant. As she turned to leave, after answering his many questions, she posed one of her own.
“Oh, by the way, did you ever hear of a place called The Green Parrot?”
“Sure,” the sergeant responded. “It’s a night club. Used to be located on Granger Street, but our boys made it too hot for ’em, so they moved to another place.”
“Where is it now?”
“Couldn’t tell you,” answered the sergeant. “You’ll have to talk to one of the detectives, Jim Adams or Bill Benson.”
Having no real excuse for seeking the information, Penny decided to abandon the quest. For want of an occupation, she sauntered on toward the Star office. Pausing in front of the big plate glass window, she idly watched a workman who was oiling one of the great rotary presses.
“Oh, here you are!” exclaimed a voice from behind her.
Whirling around, Penny saw that her father had just come through the revolving doors at the main entrance to the building.
“Hello, Dad,” she greeted him eagerly. “What’s new in the dynamiting case?”
“Nothing so far as I know,” he replied, rather indifferently. “Burt Ottman’s been released on bail.”
“Mr. DeWitt put up the money?”
“Yes, he did,” Mr. Parker said, frowning. “I advised him against it, but DeWitt feels a duty to the boy. Were you looking for me, Penny?”
“Well, not in particular.”
“I’m on my way to a bank meeting,” Mr. Parker said, turning away. “Oh, yes, I arranged a job for that watchman complication of yours, Carl Oaks.”
“You did? Oh, grand! What sort of work is it?”
“Can’t take time to tell you now,” Mr. Parker said hurriedly, hailing a passing taxi cab. “If you want all the details, ask Jerry Livingston. He took care of the matter for me, and can give you the information.”
