The Harvey Girl Mystery - Part 3

May 08, 2024

Quick Recap: On a train bound for Kansas City, Willa Abbot comes to the aid of Fin Morgan, a Pinkerton Man, distracting a pickpocket. He won’t thank her, but she saved him from a nasty fight. Her unofficial reward, however, came from a stranger promising to take her to her missing father.

LINKS: Prologue, Part #1, Part #2

Short on time? Scan the story and just read the bold parts. You’ll get the gist of the story.

“I can take you to your father!”

The man with a cockney accent repeated his incredible statement. I turned to behold the stranger and assess whether he could back up his claim.

Standing in the first-class aisle, he fought the train’s swaying. Feet shoulder-width apart and both arms out to grasp the adjacent seats, he wore the most repulsive checkered green suit—wool, no less. I quickly determined he was neither of the con men I’d been warned against. The stranger was not tall nor fit enough to be either of the men who bamboozled my father. He looked more like a traveling salesman who never missed a meal.

“I beg your pardon,” I said, trying to remember my manners despite a welling hope that the man might actually help.

He tipped his cap. It matched the green checks crafted from the same fabric bolt. “I hope I have not startled you, my dear.”

“You most certainly have,” I said, “especially if you have news of my dear father.”

“Allow me to introduce myself, I am your father’s business partner.” He bowed his head, yet his voice held no charm. It left me with the impression that he favored Father as much as a mud sandwich sprinkled with worms.

Trying to hold judgment, I waited for the man to offer a name. Perhaps it was one mentioned by my parents. Father had many dealings in town, as he was keen to find those rare projects that required vision and capital. He’d found several opportunities and had added to our family’s fortune by investing in the future.

The stranger, however, offered nothing to instill faith. My lips sagged. I could not control it as I settled into a window seat. “Father loves to find the rare investment. What was yours, Mister…” I left the sentence unfinished. Perhaps it was a ploy, but would he step up or avoid it again?

The peculiar barrel-chested man cleared his throat. “Ours was indeed rare.” He lowered his voice. “I’m quite worried that it has gone fowl, and your father is compromised. Why else would he leave town without alerting anyone?”

I cared little for the implication. “Why would father contact you? Are you not a man to manage your own affairs?”

He’d remained standing, uneasy. The train rocked him, as a particularly rough section of the track made him clutch for a better handhold. He grunted with the effort.

“Sit down before you fall,” I ordered.

“I should not,” he countered. “I have upset you.”

Watching his discomfort, I wondered if I could double it. “My father’s reputation is outstanding, and if you wish to stay in my good graces, you will say no more on the subject. Such slander will be shared with him.”

“But you can not share it,” he said, “as your father has left you as high and dry as he has me.”

“Sir,” I snapped, “take care with your accusations. I have no reason to take your word over a most beloved father, also respected by the gentlemen of New York.”

Biting his lip, the ungracious man pulled a card from his vest pocket and held it to me. I’d have found it more welcoming if he’d offered me a snake.

The card shook slightly, but he continued to hold it out. “The answers you seek are here,” he said, thrusting the card toward me.

“I seriously doubt your card offers anything that would interest me.” My chin rose. I’d known that many perils would await me on this journey, but bald-faced lies were not one of them.

He waved the card in the air, making a small figure eight. “My only offense is speaking out of turn. The bad news is not my making, yet I beg your pardon. To believe, you must see for yourself.”

“See what?” I couldn’t look at him anymore. The devil practically dripped from his mouth.

“You must witness your father’s house.”

The statement hung between us. Every instinct screamed at me to contradict the man, to make him state the accusation in the clearest of terms, but I understood his full meaning. I could almost read the whole address on the card. It was not our home in New York but an address in Kansas City.

The sound of the train car door sliding open interrupted any response. The strange man dropped the card on the seat next to me. It glanced off onto the floor. He dared not take the time to retrieve it, instead quickly retreating down the car.

The countryside was a blur out my window, more from the tears welling in my eyes than the speed. I fought, blinking them away. The last thing I wanted was a tear to roll down my cheek.

“What has happened?” Fin Morgan stormed toward my seat. “Who was that man?”

I could only shake my head.

Fin bent to pick up the card. “Are you harmed?”

I felt his eyes on me but could not put him at ease.

He sat across from me, taking my face in his hands. The gentleness of his touch was a surprise. The question in his eyes was full of empathy, much more than any words could conjure.

I met his gaze. “My father, I’ve been told, maintains a second residence.”

The implication caused him to lean forward until his forehead touched mine. I found it oddly comforting and disturbing. He hadn’t refused the claim, and if a no-nonsense Pinkerton Man believed my father could have betrayed us in such a way, it might well be true.

Suddenly, I did not want to find my father.

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