The Secret of the Unseen Treasure

by Campbell, Julie

  Trixie nodded again and pointed to the elbow where the pipe made a bend toward the pump. “If there’s nothing wrong with the valve at the bottom, the water should be up to here now. Right?”

  “Right,” Dan said. “And it is.”

  “But the pump still wasn’t drawing water,” Trixie said in a confused tone. “I don’t understand.”

  “I didn’t, either,” Dan admitted. “But there had to be some reason why the pump suddenly stopped drawing water and ruined itself.”

  Dan placed his hand on the underside of the pipe where it extended horizontally from the well to the pump. “Feel the pipe.”

  Trixie touched the cold smoothness of the pipe. As she slid her hand along underneath it, the tips of her fingers went into a notched opening.

  “That opening let air in,” Dan explained. “The pump was pulling air instead of water, and that’s what wrecked it.”

  “That’s not a crack,” Trixie said. “It’s too smooth.”

  “It was done with a metal file,” Dan confirmed. “I stuck my head under to have a look. Somebody filed a hole in that pipe. It was deliberately sabotaged.”

  Trixie scowled. “First the arson attempt, and now this. Someone is definitely trying to ruin Mrs. Elliot’s flower business. But who? And why?”

  “What about Max?” Dan asked.

  Trixie shook her head. “He was working in the cornfield during the arson attempt,” she reminded him.

  “That doesn’t mean he couldn’t have known about it,” Dan pointed out.

  “But he was so mad—” Trixie began.

  “Maybe he was mad at you for preventing the fire,” Dan said.

  Trixie pondered that for a moment. “Why would Max do those things to his own stepmother?” she asked.

  Dan shrugged. “It doesn’t make any sense, does it?” He stood up and brushed off his knees. Trixie stood, too.

  “There’s something I’d better tell you,” Dan said slowly. “It’s been bothering me for a long time now.”

  Trixie nodded. “I knew something was wrong, Dan.”

  Dan grinned slightly. “Was it that obvious? I’m sorry. It’s just that I didn’t want you and Honey getting involved in something that could be really dangerous.”

  Trixie raised her eyebrows, curious.

  “I was in town on the day of the arson attempt,” Dan went on. “And I ran into somebody I knew. Somebody from the city.”

  “You mean, someone from the—the gang?” Trixie asked.

  Dan nodded. “Sort of. An older guy named A1 Finlay. Lots of the gang members used to hang around with him. He’s a real rat.” Dan’s hand clenched as he spoke. “It’s a good thing Regan got me out of that gang before I was in too deep.”

  “We’re all glad for that, Dan,” Trixie said. “You must have thought this man Finlay had something to do with the arson attempt. That’s why you kept asking us if anyone got a close look at the man in the garden.”

  Dan nodded. “Among other things, A1 Finlay is a firebug. He said he was just passing through when I bumped into him in town. But when you told me about the arson attempt, I couldn’t help thinking he was involved. Arson is just one of his ways of forcing people to do something they don’t want to do.” Dan nodded toward the pump. “Sabotage is another way.”

  “But why Mrs. Elliot?” Trixie asked. “What has she got that he would be interested in?”

  “The only thing Al Finlay’s interested in is money,” Dan said.

  Trixie was confused. “If that’s so, and he stole the Social Security checks, then why did he throw them away?”

  Dan shrugged.

  “What about hidden money?” Trixie asked. “Maybe Mr. Elliot did hide some money here, and Finlay is trying to find it.”

  “Why bum down a building where the money might be hidden?” Dan countered.

  Trixie had no answer for that.

  , Gravel crunched in the drive as the Elliots’ pickup pulled in. Max Elliot got out of the cab and walked around to the back to open the tailgate.

  “Do you think Max has something to do with it?” Trixie asked Dan quietly.

  Dan squinted. “Bad things didn’t start happening around here until Max came back from the city,” he said. “I’ll help him unload the new pump. Don’t say anything about this.”

  Trixie pointed to the suction pipe. "What about the hole? If the new pump is hooked up, it’ll be ruined, too.”

  “Not for several hours,” said Dan. “Max will want to make sure that it’s drawing water. Let’s let him discover the sabotage. Maybe we’ll learn something.”

  Mart and Honey were approaching from the garden. Mrs. Elliot and Bobby came out onto the porch, carrying trays of lemonade and cookies.

  Max frowned and asked, “What is this, a party? What are we celebrating?”

  “We came to take some pictures,” Trixie explained. “Pictures of your flowers to enter in a contest in the White Plains newspaper.”

  “I’m just their driver,” Dan said good-naturedly. “I figured as long as I was here, I could help you install the new pump.”

  Max eyed the four Bob-Whites for a moment and then shrugged. “Okay. So help, already.”

  While Max and Dan unloaded the pump, the others helped set out refreshments on the picnic table behind the cottage.

  Bobby snatched a cookie and said, “I’ll help ’stall the new pump, too.”

  “You keep out of the way,” Trixie advised, but Bobby was already running toward the well.

  Max and Dan were carrying the pump between them on a length of board. Bobby dashed between them, ducking under it.

  “Hey! Watch it!” Dan shouted.

  Bobby tripped on the horizontal suction pipe and sprawled on the soft ground beyond the well. Max and Dan set the pump down and hurried to see if Bobby was hurt. Trixie and Honey rushed up behind.

  “Im not hurt,” Bobby assured them, wiping dirt from his face. “But my cookie is broken!”

  “Your cookie is dirty, too,” Trixie said, brushing him off and giving him a hug. “And so are you. We’ll get you another cookie and get you cleaned up a bit. You did manage to stay clean for quite a while.”

  “I hope he didn’t damage that pipe,” Dan said, noting that the suction pipe had been moved slightly by the impact of Bobby’s foot.

  “No, it swivels back and forth on its mounting,” Max said, kneeling. “See? I’ll just pull it—” He stopped suddenly, and his face reddened. He fingered the bottom of the pipe for a moment, then hunched down low to examine it. Max turned and looked from person to person, stopping at Dan. “There’s a hole in the pipe,” he said flatly.

  “I didn’t mean to break it!” Bobby wailed. “I’m sorry!”

  “You didn’t break it,” Max said, not taking his eyes off Dan. “It looks like somebody cut a hole in it.” The two young men stared at one another for a moment. “You knew about this, didn’t you?” Max asked Dan. “Why didn’t you say something? The new pump would have been ruined, too.”

  “I discovered it just before you got here,” Dan admitted. “I thought maybe it would be better if you found it yourself.”

  “Oh, dear,” Mrs. Elliot said in a worried tone. “More vandalism. Will the whole pipe have to be replaced?”

  “No,” Dan assured her. “Just that horizontal length. In the meantime, we should be able to patch that up.” He kneeled beside Max. “Have you got an old piece of inner tube and a couple of hose clamps?” he asked.

  Max nodded. “In the shed. I’ll be right back.” When Max was out of sight, Mrs. Elliot sighed. “I’m sorry for the way Max has been acting,” she said. “Things haven’t gone too well since he came back from the city, and he can’t help but feel that somehow he’s to blame.”

  “That’s all right; we understand,” Trixie assured her.

  “I’d like to think that someday this farm will be his,” Mrs. Elliot went on, “but—”

  “That won t be for a long, long time,” Honey interrupted.

&nb
sp; “Thank you, dear,” Mrs. Elliot said.

  Trixie was curious. “You make it sound like Max won t be here. Do you think he’s going to, uh, leave again?”

  “Oh, nothing like that,” Mrs. Elliot said. She shook her head. “It’s just that, well... he doesn’t seem to want to own the place. I offered to have the deed put in his name now, but he refused. I offered him co-ownership, too, but he didn’t want any part of that, either.”

  Before Trixie could say anything, Max returned with the mending materials. “This’ll just take a few minutes,” Dan told the others. “Go ahead and have some lemonade. Max and I will join you when we’re done.”

  “I’ll help Bobby get cleaned up first,” Honey said, taking his hand.

  “And I’m going to put the camera in the car,” Mart added, “so he doesn’t trip over that!” While they were pouring tall glasses of iced lemonade, Trixie asked Mrs. Elliot, “Have other bad things happened recently? Have there been other acts of vandalism?”

  “Yes.” Mrs. Elliot nodded. “I just can’t understand it. It’s so cruel and senseless. And it’s happened so often, it’s almost as if someone purposely....” Her voice trailed off.

  “What sort of things?” Trixie asked.

  “My bed of snapdragons, for instance.” Mrs. Elliot smiled wanly. “Isn’t that a fierce name for such a beautiful flower?”

  Trixie nodded. Mrs. Elliot went on. “Man-ton’s, the flower shop in White Plains, ordered several dozen of them recently. I had an extra nice batch coming along. On the morning I was to cut and deliver them, someone had romped through them, trampling almost all of them down.”

  “Oh, no!” Trixie exclaimed. “Did you see any footprints? Could it have been a dog or a deer?”

  “There was no way to tell. Max and I tried to find any flowers that could be saved, but there weren’t enough. I’d been counting on the sale of those flowers.”

  Trixie frowned. “Were there other things, too? Other suspicious ‘accidents’?”

  Tm afraid so,” Mrs. Elliot said. “A few weeks ago, Max and I took a delivery to White Plains. When we came back to the truck after doing a little shopping, one of the tires had been slashed. The service station man couldn’t repair it. I had to buy a new tire.”

  “Mrs. Elliot,” Honey called from the porch. “There’s a telephone call for you.”

  “Excuse me, dear,” Mrs. Elliot told Trixie. “Why don’t you take Max and Dan a glass of lemonade? I’ll be right back.”

  Honey and Bobby joined her as Trixie put two glasses of lemonade and several cookies on a tray.

  “Here’s another cookie for you,” Honey told Bobby affectionately.

  “Don’t go falling on that one,” Trixie warned him with a smile. She took the tray to the well.

  The suction pipe had been patched, and the new pump was hooked up. Max and Dan wiped their hands on paper napkins and paused for refreshing gulps of lemonade.

  “Will it work?” Trixie asked, nodding toward the pump.

  “Only one way to find out,” Dan said. He set down his empty glass and kneeled to unscrew the priming plug. Max inserted a funnel and poured in a pail of water, priming the pump.

  When the plug was tightened back into place, Max flipped the switch while Dan opened a nearby faucet. The motor hummed, and after a moment there was a brief spurt of water from the faucet. Then there were sputtering sounds as air came out of the tap, and a few more spurts of water. Finally there came a steady, gushing stream.

  Everyone cheered, then headed for the picnic table for more refreshments.

  Mrs. Elliot returned from the cottage beaming with pleasure. “That was Manton’s, the flower shop, on the phone. Mr. Manton wanted to know if I could sell him a large quantity of red and white carnations. And I’ve got dozens of them that will be just right by next Tuesday.”

  “That’s wonderful!” Honey said. The others agreed.

  As more lemonade and cookies were consumed, Trixie pondered what Mrs. Elliot had told her. All of Mrs. Elliot’s bad luck seemed to have started after Max came back from the city. But there was nothing to link Max to any of the troubles... and no real reason to suspect him.

  “At least your Social Security check wasn’t stolen,” Trixie muttered.

  “What, dear?” Mrs. Elliot inquired, overhearing. “Oh, yes. It is a good thing that I had them start sending the checks directly to the bank.”

  “How long ago did you start?” Trixie asked.

  “My last check was the first one to be delivered that way,” Mrs. Elliot said with a self-satisfied chuckle.

  “Oh!” Trixie gasped. Maybe she was onto something. “What made you decide to do it?”

  “Max suggested it,” Mrs. Elliot said proudly.

  Trixie almost dropped her glass of lemonade. She realized that Max was glowering at her. He had overheard the conversation, and he had to realize that Trixie suspected him of something. Trixie glanced nervously at Dan, who raised his eyebrows questioningly.

  “Thanks a lot,” Max said curtly. “For your

  help, I mean. I’ve got work to do now.” He stalked away.

  Trixie blushed and put her glass down. “Thanks very much for the refreshments, Mrs. Elliot,” she said. “I think it’s time we went home.”

  Trixie Finds a Link • 7

  MART’S PHOTOGRAPHS of the sweet peas were all very good, and Trixie and Honey agonized over the selection of one print to enter in the photo contest. They planned to submit the entry in person, since Miss Trask was driving them to White Plains to pick up Brian and Jim. The bus bringing the young men home from camp would arrive in White Plains in the early afternoon.

  “This’ll be a lot faster than mailing in the entry,” Trixie said optimistically, climbing into the B.W.G. station wagon with Honey and Mart. “Maybe it’ll get into this week’s contest. The sooner the better for Mrs. Elliot.”

  Miss Trask slid in behind the steering wheel. “I don’t like to dampen your enthusiasm, Trixie,” she said, “but there must be hundreds of entries. I hope you haven’t led Mrs. Elliot to believe she can definitely count on some prize money.”

  “Mrs. Elliot is more sagacious about it than Trixie,” Mart commented. To Trixie he said, “That means she’s got more s-e-n-s-e.”

  “She could use a whole lot of the other kind of cents,” Trixie retorted. “Besides, don’t you think your photograph is good enough to win the contest?”

  “Owl” Mart winced.

  “Touché,” said Miss Trask with a grin.

  After delivering the photograph and entry blank to the White Plains newspaper office, Miss Trask and the three Bob-Whites drove to a nearby shopping center, where the camp bus would be unloading in the parking lot.

  “We have nearly an hour until the bus is due,” Miss Trask said, glancing at her wrist-watch. “Plenty of time to do a little shopping. Shall we stick together or split up?”

  “I’m not in the mood for earrings and purses,” Mart said, wrinkling his nose. “I’m headed for the sporting goods store. See you in about an hour.”

  “Trixie?Honey?” Miss Trask inquired.

  “We’ll meet you here in an hour, too,” Trixie said, “if it’s all right with you.”

  “Fine,” Miss Trask said. She headed for a department store.

  Honey eyed Trixie, curious. “What are we going to shop for?” she asked.

  “Flowers,” Trixie said. “At Manton’s Flower Shop. Come on.”

  As they left the parking lot and headed up the sidewalk, Honey asked, “What are we looking for at Manton’s?”

  “A link,” Trixie said. “A connection of some kind. All of the bad things that have happened to Mrs. Elliot are somehow connected with her flower business. The arson attempt, the water pump sabotage, the trampled bed of snapdragons—”

  Honey interrupted. “What about the slashed tire? And the attempt to steal her Social Security check?”

  “The tire got slashed while she was here in White Plains delivering flowers to Mantons,
” Trixie pointed out. “And if her check had been stolen, she wouldn’t have been able to get a new pump. She’d be out of business.”

  Honey nodded. “You’re right. But what are we going to find at Manton’s?”

  “I don’t know,” Trixie admitted. “I’ll just put my nose in a few flowers and see what I smell.”

  “I hope you don’t get stung by a bee,” Honey said in a half-serious tone.

  “I’ve been thinking about those stolen checks,” Trixie went on. “Maybe whoever stole them threw them away on purpose.”

  “What?” Honey asked.

  “Maybe he wasn’t interested in any of the checks except Mrs. Elliot’s. Maybe he stole all the others to make it look like he wasn’t after just hers.”

  Honey raised her eyebrows. “That’s why, when he didn’t find Mrs. Elliot’s check, he didn’t bother to steal any more on Glen Road. Right?”

  “Right,” Trixie affirmed. “And that’s why he threw the other checks away.”

  Trixie and Honey had walked several blocks from the shopping center. The flower shop wasn’t in the newest part of town; it was in a run-down area, on a side street. Tall buildings across from it prevented the sun from reaching the dirty windows. The only brightness in the neighborhood was the display of flowers Trixie and Honey could see in the window of the small shop.

  Trixie opened the door. A chime sounded softly, and the cloying odor of flowers wrapped itself around the girls.

  “I prefer the smell of flowers in a garden outside,” Trixie murmured to Honey.

  “The fragrance is too strong in a small room,” Honey agreed.

  Potted plants and a variety of vases cluttered the small shop. There was a desk with thick ring binders illustrating special displays to be ordered by number. Along one wall was a glassdoored cooler containing bundles of fresh flowers.

  An open door at the back of the shop revealed a tiny office. Inside, a dark-haired man was turning the pages of a ledger. He looked up briefly, then dropped his eyes back to the ledger.

  A tall, redheaded young woman in a green smock was working on a flower arrangement at a table near another open door, which led to the parking lot behind the building. She wiped her stained hands on her smock and stepped forward.