The Secret of the Unseen Treasure

Elliot,” Trixie said. “Max might end up going to jail for something he didn’t do. That would leave her without anyone.”
    Hartman scowled. “Molinson told me about the marijuana. I don’t think he’ll press charges.”
    “Oh, good!” Trixie exclaimed. “At least Max won’t go to jail. I just hope that his being around won’t cause more problems for Mrs. Elliot.”
    Hartman looked puzzled. “First you sound glad that he’s not in jail, then you talk as though he belongs there.”
    “I don’t mean that,” Trixie said. “I think Max knows what’s going on. I think he’s been trying to prevent it and not succeeding.” Trixie hesitated. “But I thought if you... could get him to tell what he knows...
    Mr. Hartman shook his head. “He’s had plenty of opportunity to talk. He says there isn’t anything to talk about. He’s taking all the blame for everything.”
    “I can’t believe it,” Trixie declared. “I think there’s something he doesn’t want Mrs. Elliot to know—I don’t mean about himself, but about his father, Sam Elliot.”
    Hartman started to shake his head again. Trixie spoke quickly. “When I was here another time, Mr. Hartman, you hinted something about Sam Elliot—”
    “Just a slip of the tongue. I told you then: Sam Elliot is gone, and everything with him. So forget it. Don’t disturb Ethel’s memories of him.”
    “Is it more important that she has good memories or that she saves her farm?” Trixie asked. “Because she’s going to lose her farm. Max has taken the blame,” Trixie declared, “but he can’t be responsible. He must know who is but doesn’t dare point a finger at that person. The other person must be threatening him with something.”
    Charles Hartman neither agreed with nor denied that. “And just what do you think Sam Elliot has to do with it?”
    “I don’t know,” Trixie admitted in puzzled frustration. “But I’m positive who the other person is. It’s Al Finlay. Under the name of Manton, he runs a flower shop in White Plains. He wants Mrs. Elliot’s property for some reason. He’s been doing all those things to ruin her business. Now he’s almost forced Mrs. Elliot to sell her property by having her Social Security payments stopped.”
    “What?” Hartman asked, frowning. “Who told you that?”
    Trixie swallowed. “My father. But I’m not supposed to say anything—”
    “I understand,” Hartman said.
    “I think Finlay lied about how much money he’s paid Mrs. Elliot for her flowers,” Trixie went on. “And now they’re going to stop her Social Security payments.”
    Hartman shook his head slowly. After a moment, he spoke over his shoulder to the others. “Anyone want some cold soda? Trixie and I will bring some out.” He nodded toward the house, and Trixie followed him inside.
    In the living room, Hartman telephoned information to get the number of Manton’s Flower Shop in White Plains. Then he dialed that number. “Hello?” he said. “This is Mr. Wilson of the Social Security Administration. Is Mr. Manton in?... He’s not?... Well, perhaps you could answer a few questions for me, miss.” Trixie leaned close to try to overhear. When Hartman finally hung up after several minutes, his expression was thoughtful. “That was lucky. She didn’t know about the investigation. But she did know that Manton pays Ethel in cash for her flowers—twenty or thirty dollars at a time, usually. In the ledger, though, a zero has been added to make it look like she’d been paid two or three hundred dollars.”
    “That explains it!” Trixie exclaimed. “Manton—I mean Finlay—probably made a complaint to the Social Security office. They looked at his books, then compared his figures to Mrs. Elliot’s reports of her earnings.”
    “Since he paid in cash,” Hartman muttered, “it really comes down to his word against hers.” He looked squarely at Trixie. “All right, young lady. I’ll talk to Max later today. I don’t know if it’ll make any difference, but I’ll do it.”
    “Oh, thank you, Mr. Wil - uh, Mr. Hartman,” Trixie said.
    Hartman pointed a finger at her. “Forget you ever heard that little tactic,” he advised.
    “Yes, sir!” Trixie said, smiling.

The Unseen Treasure • 11

    BRIAN RACKED HIS JALOPY down the Hartman driveway and onto Glen Road. Trixie was telling him and Mart about what Mr. Hartman had done. “So he said he’d talk to Max,” she concluded. “Maybe he’ll find a new lead for