The Secret of the Unseen Treasure

He would have stolen her Social Security checks if I hadn’t told her to send them to the bank. He beat me on the water pump, though. And somehow he managed to plant marijuana in the cornfield—probably while we were out delivering flowers.
    “But he won’t be able to prove those phony high payments for her flowers. Ethel doesn’t begin to grow nearly enough flowers to bring that much money. As soon as the Social Security office checks other flower shops for the going rate on flowers she does raise, they’ll know Finlay’s lying. They won’t stop her checks.”
    “Keep talking,” Hartman said.
    “That’s all there is,” Max mumbled.
    “No, there’s more,” Hartman insisted. “If it were only what you’ve told me, you could have gone to the police to protect Ethel. But you couldn’t, because Finlay is holding something over you.”
    “My police record,” Max said.
    “Hogwash,” Hartman snapped. “You paid your penalty on that score. You also told Molinson about it. Finlay’s threatening to reveal something about your father, isn’t he? Something you don’t want Ethel to know about.” It was more a statement than a question.
    Max’s voice flared back. “Leave things as they are! Ethel’s going to be okay now. There’s nothing more to talk about.”
    Trixie heard sounds of movement, as though Max were going to leave the bam. “Wait!” she yelled. “I’ve got something to show you!”
    She hurried through the cool darkness to the other side of the bam. Mr. Hartman and Max scowled at her.
    “I—I wasn’t listening in on purpose,” Trixie explained. “Mrs. Elliot sent me to the bam to look for something in Mr. Elliot’s old desk. I overheard you talking.” She waved the papers. “I’ve found the answer to what’s been going on around here!”
    She handed the empty envelope to Hartman, who read the words and passed it to Max.
    “Let me see those papers,” Hartman said. Trixie handed them to him and turned to face Max. “Your father knew you ran away to the city because you discovered that he was raising and selling drugs—marijuana and heroin poppies—to Al Finlay.”
    Max clenched his hands. “I wanted no part of that dirty business, but Finlay was trying to blackmail me into growing some marijuana on this property.”
    Trixie gestured to the pages Hartman was reading. “Your father’s conscience bothered him after you left. He destroyed everything that had any connection with drugs. All the money he’d made from them he donated anonymously to a drug rehabilitation center in the city. That’s why there was no money in his estate when he died shortly after that. He’d wanted to let you know that he’d reformed—that he was sorry— but he couldn’t find you.”
    Charles Hartman looked up from the confession he was reading. “This explains a lot to me. I suspected what Sam was doing and why Max ran away. Sam was afraid that Finlay might try to make trouble for you or Ethel, so he kept very careful records. There’s enough here to send Finlay to prison for the rest of his life. I’ll give these to Sergeant Molinson personally, and I’ll make sure that Ethel never knows about it. Finlay’s got nothing on you now, Max,” Mr. Hartman assured him. Turning to Trixie, he asked, “What’s the legacy’ Sam mentions?”
    Trixie explained about the yellow sweet peas Sam Elliot had developed. “They’re worth a lot of money,” she said. “The man from the seed company will be here any time. I’d better tell Mrs. Elliot that I found the records about the yellow sweet peas.”
    Charles Hartman grasped her arm. “Don’t give any hint about what else you found.”
    “Never,” Trixie promised.
    Trixie hurried up the back steps and into the cottage. “I found the records,” she called. “They were right where you said—”
    Mrs. Elliot was not in the living room. The front door was slightly ajar, and Trixie could hear Mrs. Elliot’s voice from the front porch.
    “...kind of you,” she was saying, “but it won’t be necessary for me to sell the property now. I’ve just discovered that my late husband developed a new variety of sweet pea that’s very valuable. A seed company is going to buy the rights to them.”
    Trixie wondered who was out there—it obviously wasn’t the man from the seed company. “I’d like to see those sweet peas,” the voice of Al Finlay—known to Mrs. Elliot only as Manton, the owner of a flower shop—said smoothly. “Show