The Harvey Girl Mystery - Part 5

Quick Recap: Willa Abbot found her father's secret house in Kansas City, but no one was home—so she broke in! And someone caught her in the act!

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Links: Prologue, Part #1, Part #2, Part #3, Part #4, Harvey Girl page

Short on time? Scan the story and just read the bold parts. You’ll get the gist and come back later to read the whole thing!

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"Willa Abbot!"

A familiar male voice shouted my name.

Sprawled on the hardwood floor, I got to my knees and peered out the open window—the one I'd just fallen through while breaking into my father's secret second home.

"Willa Abbot," Fin Morgan repeated, quickly coming up the front steps. "Are you injured? You took quite a spill."

I blinked, and it had nothing to do with the fading daylight. Of all the people to find me in such a position, it had to be him. The Pinkerton Man frowned, reminding me of the look I'd received after coming to his aid on the train. He'd gotten himself into a tight spot, having cornered a pickpocket, and while I'm sure he had the talent to escape any trouble, I had helped with a minor distraction.

He should have thanked me, but Mr. Morgan had not been pleased. The man muttered some nonsense about putting myself in harm's way. When he'd tracked me down afterward, his demeanor held reproof. Upon our arrival in Kansas City, he'd been busy transferring custody of the thief to a local law enforcement officer, and I quickly fled to the Harvey House—only steps away on the train platform. Not another word had passed between us. I'd assumed that I'd seen the last of Fin Morgan.

"Sir, you startled me, and while I might have fumbled my step, I cannot dismiss your interference." I dusted off the front of my skirt, able to see where my dress had dusted off the bookcase on my way inside. No one was taking care of the place.

Finn stared at me, bending to see better inside the window.

"You take no ownership of my tumble?" I cocked my head to one side, expecting an apology.

He smirked. "My pardon, Miss; however, we must account for your climbing skills. I warrant you're rusty when it comes to break and entering."

"No breaking was committed, sir." I felt my cheeks flush despite my innocence. "The window was not locked."

"I see. There is still the matter of your midnight outing, is there not?" he asked.

Pointing at the sky, I indicated the setting sun. "Far from midnight."

"Yet, rumor has it that Harvey Girls disappear at sunset. They are locked up." He chuckled to himself. "Have you broken out?"

His use of breaking in and out was clever, but I'd never admit it. "You are wasting my daylight," I admonished him. "Either come in or go away."

In the fading light, I had the distinct feeling he found my situation humorous. He climbed in the window, and I turned away to spot a family photograph on the fireplace mantel. The sight of Mother's smiling face caused me a moment, but I had none to spare. The tintype was all the confirmation I needed that father had strayed. I vowed to find out how far and how badly.

"My father is a firm believer in a gentleman's office," I told Fin, and I went in search of one. 

Fin lit a lantern, joining me down the hallway. It was central to the home, as several rooms branched off of it, most sparsely decorated except for the office.

The large room took my breath away. It displayed a grand style, from the crown molding to the rich carpets. Bookcases lined the walls, stuffed to capacity with leather-bound books. I saw one title on Roman Treasures and knew such a topic would interest my father. I went to the desk. The top was orderly enough, so I opened drawers, peering at the paperwork for a clue. 

Fin brought the lantern over. Its flame flickered from the movement but helped me read the papers. Most of it seemed like useless correspondence. A credenza behind the desk earned my interest. On top of it sat a small rack holding three pipes. Sadly, they were the ones I recognized. I sat in the desk chair, dejected.

"I take it this is your father's house," Fin said, sounding sympathetic.

"Indeed," I answered, fingering one of the pipes. "I am flummoxed."

He sighed. "Don't rush to judgment. While present appearances do look bad, more facts could improve your opinion."

While I wanted to take his words to heart, my father still had much to account for. Instead of agreeing with Fin, I turned back to the desk and opened another drawer, frowning. He came around to look inside. It was empty.

"What did you expect to find?" He teased.

"A clue."

He held up the lantern and took in the full scope of the room. It was packed with books, rolled-up graphs, and squirreled-away papers. The space required broad daylight for a full inspection. The very thought made me weak. My enthusiasm for such a chore was low until Fin's lantern illuminated a map on the wall.

"Stop!" I gasped. 

I jumped up, grabbed Fin's forearm, and guided the lantern toward the far wall. On it was a map that appeared to be the local area. Small pinned flags marked two spots. "What are we looking at?" he asked. 

My heart sank because the map was the worst kind of proof. "Buried treasure," I sighed, having seen such a map before. Father had several over the years. They never led him to the riches, only heartache.

"Your father is a treasure hunter?" The tone of Fin's voice mirrored my disappointment.

"Whatever could he be after this time," I wondered out loud. 

Fin studied the map. "I know something of the local history," he said. "There are stories of Spanish gold. Something about burying it before being massacred by Indians."

I sighed. "How far back was this massacre?"

"It had to be in the 1770's, if I were to guess." Fin held the lantern closer to the map. "Two spots are marked, but they are well outside of town. One is perhaps an hour away, and the other is half the distance."

Missing gold caused by a deadly clash gave me chills. No good could come from it. I did not believe in ghosts, but such a tragic event could not lead to profit. The grime circumstances would taint the whole endeavor. 

The treasure map was pinned to the wall. I took it down.

"And what will you do with that, may I ask?" Fin sounded disapproving.

"You know what I'm going to do," I said, tucking the rolled-up map under my arm.

"You think it will lead to your father?"

A host of new complications swirled in my head. "Walk me back to the Harvey House?"

He grunted, snuffed the lantern, and headed for the front door.

I cleared my throat. "We didn't come in that way."

Fin probably glared at me, but it was getting too dark to tell.

"Any ideas how I can sneak back into the Harvey House without anyone hearing me?" I said, watching as he exited over the bookcase to join me on the front porch.

He pulled the window shut, stalling an answer but then leaned close to my face. "You're on your own, sweetheart." He winked. 

His scent was rather intoxicating—a pleasant mix of leather and oranges. The musky leather was a subtle undertone, dominated by the oranges. They must have been a recent snack.

Struggling to focus, I expected him to break away and head to another part of town, but Fin fell into step beside me. "Never mind," I muttered. I had a short walk to figure it out, but my mind was anything but focused on the task.

"Why are you here?" I abruptly asked Fin. A Pinkerton Man certainly had better things to do unless he saw some criminal wrongdoing in my father's actions. "My father has not broken any law."

The statement caused Fin misstep, but his agility made it barely noticeable. "Outside of lying to his family, your father has done no wrong."

"Yet, a Pinkerton Man has his interest." I accused him.

"No, my interest is not for your father," he said, voice dropping lower. "It is all for you."

I grabbed his arm to stop his forward movement, not because of his shocking admission but because we'd rounded a corner, and the Harvey House came into view. On the second floor, a light shone that should be off. I knew it to be at the top of the stairs. Someone was up, and it would be impossible to pass without a squeaky floorboard giving me away.

He looked at my hand first but then up at the window. "Oh, darn, you are in a pickle."