The Secret of the Unseen Treasure

Trixie began as they all sat down, “we’re sort of friends of Mrs. Elliot’s. We—our family, I mean—have known Mrs. Elliot for a long time. We were there visiting yesterday. Since her husband died, Mrs. Elliot has been having a hard time with her flower business, so it’s a good thing that her Social Security check—”
    Trixie stopped. Charles Hartman was regarding her with steady, probing steel blue eyes. She floundered and forgot what she was trying to say.
    “Young lady,” Charles Hartman said bluntly, “quit circling around like a buzzard and get to the point.”
    “Charley!” his wife admonished.
    “Be quiet, sweetheart,” he said, still looking at Trixie. “This isn’t just a casual social visit. This young lady is after something. Well?” he asked Trixie.
    Trixie wished she could dig a hole and get into it. “We—I mean, I was wondering... on the day that the Social Security checks were stolen... if you told Sergeant Molinson—”
    “I told him I couldn’t offer any help. What do you think I should have said?” He waited a moment for Trixie to answer. “Well?”
    Trixie reddened. “I thought maybe Mrs. Elliot saw something, but she—”
    “You’re circling again. Get to the point.” Trixie took a deep breath. “We made a list of people who had their checks stolen. It looks like yours was the last one taken, because the other checks delivered on Glen Road past here were received. We found the stolen checks today in the Wheelers’ lake.”
    Hartman nodded. “Go on. Why did you come here?”
    “The thief must have been scared away from what he was doing,” Trixie said. “Somebody must have seen him. Why else would he try to get rid of the checks?”
    Hartman smiled grimly. “So,” he said, “since my check was apparently the last one stolen, you thought that I might have seen the thief.”
    Trixie nodded.
    “And,” Hartman went on, “that if I had seen him, I deliberately avoided saying so to the police.”
    Trixie nodded again. “I’m sorry, sir.”
    “None of that,” Hartman said brusquely. “When you’re following a lead, you’ve got to follow it with no apologies.”
    Trixie stared at him.
    He laughed. “I’m an ex-cop. I’d still be on the Albany police force if they didn’t have mandatory retirement rules.” He turned to Brian. “Come here a minute, young man. I want to show you something.”
    Puzzled, Brian got out of his chair and walked toward Hartman. Suddenly, in a blur of motion, Hartman was out of his own chair and holding Brian in an armlock from behind. “Squirm out of it, boy,” Hartman urged. “Remember, I’m an old man.”
    Brian tried to free himself, first halfheartedly, then in earnest. He could not get loose.
    Hartman released him and patted Brian’s back. “I’m also an ex-judo instructor,” he said with a grin. “If I’d seen the thief, I’d have turned him over to Molinson... with a broken arm.”
    Brian nodded vigorously, gingerly rubbing his shoulder.
    “I’m usually waiting at the mailbox for the mailman when the checks are delivered,” Hartman said. “But that day, I was getting too many laughs watching something on TV with my bride.” He regarded Trixie. “Why are you so interested in checks stolen from old people?” Trixie explained how she and Honey hoped to be detectives someday. She also told about the arson attempt. “We thought that it was a warning, because Mrs. Elliot had seen the thief.”
    Hartman nodded.
    “But Mrs. Elliot couldn’t have seen him,” Trixie went on. “She was in White Plains that day. So was Max.”
    “And,” Brian added, “nobody farther up Glen Road saw him. No checks were stolen there.” Trixie scratched her head. “Now it looks like there’s no connection at all between the stolen checks and the arson attempt. But why else would anybody do such a terrible thing to Mrs. Elliot?”
    Hartman was deep in thought. “If Sam Elliot were still alive, then I’d think—” He stopped as Trixie leaned forward to hear what he was going to say.
    “No,” Hartman said. “Ethel Elliot is a good neighbor and a good friend. Her husband’s dead, so there’s no sense in bringing his name into this. You forget that I even mentioned it. Understand?”
    “But—” Trixie began.
    “Forget it,” Hartman said. It was final.

Discovery • 5

    JUNE LED THE WAY into July. But the clues that Trixie and Honey had hoped to pursue led nowhere. There was no answer to the question of why