The Secret of the Unseen Treasure

co-owner.”
    “And,” Honey said, “he’s been doing things to protect Mrs. Elliot. He told her to have her Social Security check sent to the bank. He was the one who decided to pick the carnations earlier than usual.”
    “But why,” asked Mart, “is he so huffy every time we suggest that something crooked is going on? He wants us to think that the things happening to Mrs. Elliot are just accidents.”
    “Check,” Jim agreed. “I think he knows none of the things that have happened are accidents.” Jim gestured to the leaves and twigs from the marijuana plant. “We’re not sure whether Max is responsible for this or not. But we’d better inform Sergeant Molinson about it.”
    Trixie felt awful. “That’ll mean more trouble for poor Mrs. Elliot. That stuff is growing on her property, and even if she doesn’t know about it—”
    “She couldn’t,” Honey said.
    “Of course not,” Trixie said. “But Sergeant Molinson will go over there to question Max.” She closed her eyes and shook her head. “Mrs. Elliot really loves Max and wants him to get adjusted to the farm after living in the city.”
    “In the city,” Brian repeated, “where he probably met Al Finlay. And now he’s either brought Finlay here, or Finlay has followed him.... It’s a mess for Mrs. Elliot, one way or the other.”
    “We’d better call Sergeant Molinson,” Jim said again.
    “Wait,” Trixie said. “Maybe we should think about getting some advice first.”
    “From whom?” Mart demanded.
    “From Mr. Hartman. He’s a good friend of Mrs. Elliot’s, and he’s also an ex-policeman.” Brian raised his eyebrows. “Can I believe what I’m hearing? You’re admitting that you don’t know what to do about this?”
    “I didn’t say that,” Trixie retorted. “I just think we should be careful, for Mrs. Elliot’s sake.”
    “Trixie’s right,” Honey said.
    Di nodded agreement.
    Jim ran a hand through his red hair. “I sure don’t want to cause any more problems for Mrs. Elliot. But I don’t want for us to get in trouble, either. If we don't tell Sergeant Molinson about the marijuana, and later on he finds out that we knew about it, he could arrest us for withholding evidence.”
    Mart whistled. “We’d have to change the Bob-White whistle to the jailbird whistle.” Honey paled. Di gulped.
    “Getting some advice first is a good idea, though,” Jim admitted. “And Mr. Hartman seems like the right person to ask.”
    Brian spoke up. “I don’t know. Remember, Trixie, when we were at Mr. Hartman’s asking about the Social Security checks? He hinted that he knew something suspicious about Mrs. Elliot’s husband, Sam. But he wouldn’t tell us what it was.”
    Trixie nodded. “He said it was over with. He didn’t want Mrs. Elliot to find out about it, so he wouldn’t talk about it.”
    “Whatever it was,” Honey said, “may be starting all over again with Max. Maybe Mr. Hartman won’t help us because it might hurt Mrs. Elliot.”
    “I guess we won’t know until we ask,” Trixie murmured.
    After tidying up the clubhouse, the B.W.G.’s drove up Glen Road to the Hartmans’. They heard Mrs. Hartman’s cane tapping toward the door as she came to answer their knock.
    “Well, hello, Trixie... Brian.” Mrs. Hartman smiled. “These must be the other young people you spoke about. How nice of you to come calling.”
    Trixie introduced the others. Then she asked, “Is Mr. Hartman here?”
    “Oh, he left early this morning for a meeting of retired policemen,” Mrs. Hartman said. “When will he be back?” Trixie inquired. “Not until the end of the week.”
    “That long?” Trixie exclaimed in dismay. “Well, the meeting doesn’t last that long.” Mrs. Hartman smiled indulgently. “But expolicemen are just like old soldiers or athletes when they get together. They’ve got to talk a lot and relive their times together. I suppose you’re too young to know about that.”
    “Trixie knows about talking a lot,” Mart commented.
    Trixie gave him a sidelong look, then returned her attention to Mrs. Hartman. “We had a question to ask your husband. About Mrs. Elliot, sort of. I mean—”
    “Oh, yes,” Mrs. Hartman said. “Charles went over there yesterday, to ask them to keep an eye on me while he was gone.”
    “Of course,” said Trixie. “He’d be concerned about your being here alone.”
    Mrs. Hartman nodded. “It’s good he was there, too.”
    “Why?” Honey asked. “Did