CHAPTER 17 FALSE RECORDS

Mr. Blake, suave, completely at ease, sat opposite Mr. Parker and Penny in the editor’s private office.

“I came as soon as I could after receiving your telephone message, Mr. Parker,” he said pleasantly. “Now what seems to be the trouble?”

“Perhaps I shouldn’t have bothered you,” the editor apologized. “However, in glancing over the abstract for the Orphans’ Camp property I noticed that the land is owned by a man named Benjamin Bowman.”

“Quite true. I am acting as his agent.”

“It happens that I have had dealings with a man by that same name,” resumed Mr. Parker. “Rather unpleasant dealings, I might add. I’m curious to learn if this property owner is the same fellow.”

“Very unlikely, I think,” Mr. Blake shrugged. “My client does not reside in Riverview.”

“Nor does the man I have in mind.”

“Can you tell us what he looks like?” Penny interposed eagerly.

“I am very sorry, but I can’t,” Mr. Blake returned. “I’ve never met Mr. Bowman.”

“Yet you act as his agent?” Mr. Parker inquired in astonishment.

“All our dealings have been by mail or telephone.”

“I see,” the editor commented reflectively. “Well, at least you can provide me with the man’s address.”

“I can’t do that either,” Mr. Blake declined. “Benjamin Bowman is a salesman with no permanent address. He communicates with me at fairly regular intervals, but until I hear from him, I have no idea where he will be the following week.”

“Your description seems to fit the man of my acquaintance,” Mr. Parker said dryly. “But tell me, how do you expect to complete this deal? Will Bowman come here to sign the necessary papers?”

“Oh, that won’t be required. He’s already made out the sales documents, and also given me a power of attorney.”

“Mr. Bowman seems to think of everything,” Mr. Parker remarked grimly. “I was hoping for the pleasure of meeting him.”

“I really don’t see what all this has to do with the sale of the property,” Mr. Blake reproved in a mild voice. “You feel that the site is a suitable one, and the price right?”

“I have no serious objections to it.”

“Then why allow your personal feelings to interfere with the deal?”

“I have no intention of doing so,” Mr. Parker answered.

“Then if you’ll give your approval, we’ll sign the final papers tomorrow at my office. The dedication of the new camp has been set for the tenth of the month, and that means no time can be lost.”

“Everything seems to have been settled without my approval,” Mr. Parker said, smiling. “However, if you don’t mind, I’ll keep this abstract a little longer.”

“As you like,” the real estate man shrugged. “Have your lawyer go over the records with a fine tooth comb. He’ll find no flaws anywhere.”

Arising, Mr. Blake bowed politely and left the office. Penny waited until she knew that he was a considerable distance from the door before seeking her father’s opinion of the interview.

“Everything may be on the level,” he conceded, frowning. “I’ve no reason to distrust Blake, and yet I can’t help feeling that there’s something peculiar about this land deal.”

“Blake has been rushing things through at such a furious rate,” Penny nodded. “Another thing, Ben Bowman is a well-known forger.”

“What makes you think that?” the editor asked alertly. “Any real information?”

Penny revealed everything she had learned that day at Claymore. Mr. Parker listened attentively, making few comments until she had finished.

“I am more than ever convinced there is something phoney about Bowman’s connection with this affair,” he declared grimly. “We’ll see what my lawyer has to say.”

Having made up his mind that the transaction merited a thorough investigation, Mr. Parker personally carried the questionable abstract to a reliable law firm, Adams and McPherson. The report came back late in the afternoon, and was relayed to Penny at the dinner table.

“Mr. Adams says that the abstract seems to be drawn up correctly,” the editor disclosed. “He could find no flaw in it or in any of the records at the court house.”

“Then apparently we jumped too hasty to conclusions,” Penny remarked in disappointment.

“I’m not so sure. Mr. Adams tells me that the ownership of the property is a very muddled affair.”

“Muddled?”

“Yes, it has changed hands many times in the past year, and oddly, none of the buyers or sellers seem to be known in Riverview.”

“What does Mr. Adams think about that, Dad?”

“He advises that the records be inspected very carefully. It will take weeks though, for they are quite involved.”

“I suppose that will hold up the opening of the camp.”

“It may,” Mr. Parker acknowledged. “However, it seems wise to take every precaution even if the camp isn’t opened this year. Too much money is involved to risk paying for land which may have a faulty title.”

The following day, the editor conferred with members of the Camp Fund board, telling of his findings. To his chagrin, Mrs. Van Cleve did not share his views.

“I trust Mr. Blake’s judgment implicitly,” she insisted. “I am sure the property will be satisfactory in every way. If there should by chance be any flaw in the title, he would make it good.”

“We can’t possibly delay the dedication another week,” added another feminine member of the board. “The summer is nearly over now.”

“At least postpone making the final payment until after I have had another report from my lawyers,” Mr. Parker pleaded.

“Very well, we’ll do that,” Mrs. Van Cleve agreed. “Mr. Blake is so obliging I am sure he will allow us to set up equipment on the land, even though we don’t actually possess title.”

The entire transaction seemed very unbusinesslike to Mr. Parker, but he did not attempt to force his opinion upon the board members. Accordingly, plans went forward for the grand opening of the camp. Stories appeared regularly in the Star, playground equipment and floored tents were set up on the camp site, and the actual dedication program was announced.

“You might know Mr. Blake would be invited to make the main speech,” Penny remarked disapprovingly as she scanned the latest story of the coming affair. “Every day, in every way, he gives me a bigger and bigger pain!”

Throughout the week both she and Louise had been very active, helping out at the new camp site. The land had been cleared of underbrush, trails had been constructed, and a well dug. While supervising the setting-up of slides, merry-go-rounds and teeter-totters, Penny upon several occasions had had disagreements with Mr. Blake. The man remained at the site almost constantly, imposing his wishes upon everyone.

“A great deal of time and money has been spent getting that place ready for the dedication,” Penny commented to her father. “If anything should happen that the final papers aren’t signed, it would be a pity.”

“I’ve had no report as yet,” Mr. Parker answered. “My lawyers tell me they never delved into a more involved case.”

“What does Mr. Blake think about the investigation?”

“He seems to be agreeable. However, I suspect he’s been working on the various board members, trying to get them to conclude the deal without waiting.”

“How long will it be before you’ll have a final report, Dad?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I expected to get it long before this.”

In the flurry of preparing for the camp dedication, Penny had no opportunity to give much thought to other affairs. She did not see Seth McGuire, the sheriff had nothing to disclose concerning Clem Davis’ disappearance, and the Black Hoods seemed to have become an extinct organization.

On the morning of the designated date, Penny was abroad early. She and Louise planned to drive to the dedication exercises together, and wished to arrive before the grounds were congested. Eating breakfast hurriedly, Penny scarcely noticed when her father was called to the telephone. He absented himself from the dining room nearly fifteen minutes. As he returned to the table, Penny pushed back her chair, ready to leave.

“Well, I’ll see you at the camp grounds, Dad,” she said lightly.

“I don’t know what to do about the dedication,” responded Mr. Parker in a sober tone. “By rights there should be none.”

Penny stared at him.

“I’ve just heard from my lawyers,” Mr. Parker explained.

“Then, there is a flaw in the title as you suspected!”

“Decidedly. It’s a very mixed-up mess, and as yet we’re not sure what it may mean.”

“Tell me about it, Dad,” Penny pleaded, sliding back into her chair.

“Benjamin Bowman—whoever he may be—doesn’t own the camp property.”

“Then in whose name is it?”

“The property doesn’t belong to anyone.”

“Why, how ridiculous!” Penny exclaimed. “Doesn’t every piece of land in the world belong to someone?”

“Actually the heirs of Rosanna and Joseph Schulta own this particular property. But there are no heirs.”

“What you say doesn’t make sense to me, Dad.”

“The whole affair is very involved,” Mr. Parker explained. “In tracing back the history of the land, my lawyers found that originally it was owned by Rosanna and Joseph Schulta, an elderly couple, who had no known relatives. They sailed for Germany more than fifty years ago. The ship sank, and presumably they were lost. Their land was never claimed, and somehow the state overlooked the case.”

“But I thought the property had changed hands many times in recent years!”

“Only theoretically. All those records have been falsified.”

“By whom, Dad? Ben Bowman?”

“My lawyers are inclined to think Blake may be at the bottom of it. He is a very shrewd real estate man, and in examining records at the court house, he may have learned about this floating property.”

“Then he deliberately tried to cheat the Camp Fund board!”

“It looks that way. Neither Ben Bowman nor anyone else owns the property. Had you not noticed his name on the abstract, it’s unlikely the fraud would have been uncovered for quite a few years to come.”

“What will you do, Dad?” Penny inquired, deeply distressed. “The dedication is scheduled to start within an hour.”

“I don’t see how it can be postponed,” Mr. Parker said soberly. “It will have to go on according to schedule.”

“Afterwards you’ll ask for Blake’s arrest?”

“There’s no real evidence against him.”

“No evidence!”

“He claims to be a mere agent of Ben Bowman. All of the deeds and legal papers were drawn up by some other person. If any accusation is made against him, he can escape by maintaining that he knew nothing of the back records.”

“There’s one person who might be able to implicate him!” Penny exclaimed. “Ben Bowman!”

“Bowman should have it in his power to clear up some of the mystery,” Mr. Parker agreed. “But how are we to find him?”

“I don’t know,” Penny admitted. “It looks rather hopeless unless the police just present him to us wrapped in pink ribbon.”

The clock struck nine. Daring not to linger any longer, Penny hastily bade her father goodbye and left the house.

Driving to the camp site with Louise Sidell, she told her chum of the latest complications.

“Mr. Blake is one of the worst hypocrites in the world,” she declared feelingly. “He pretends he wants to help the orphans, and all the while he intends to trick the Board and make a nice profit for himself.”

“Your father won’t let him get away with it,” Louise returned confidently. “So long as the money hasn’t been paid over there’s no need to worry.”

Arriving at the camp site, the girls went at once to the official tent. To their surprise, Mr. Blake, Mrs. Van Cleve, and all members of the Board save Mr. Parker, were there. On the table lay various legal papers which bore signatures still moist with ink.

Penny gazed from one person to another, slowly comprehending the scene.

“You’re not buying this property!” she exclaimed in protest.

Mrs. Van Cleve’s reply stunned her.

“It seemed unreasonable to keep Mr. Blake waiting,” the woman said quietly. “The transaction has just been completed.”