Kit Kittredge: An American Girl Page #6

I heard it from an eyewitness.|I have notes.

- Will doesn't have a tattoo, sheriff.|- Sweetheart.

Have you found him yet?

Nobody's seen him.

Nobody seems to know where he is.

Dear Dad, it's been weeks...

... and there's still no sign|of Will or Countee.

I just don't believe he'd rob us, Dad.

But someone did,|and now our money's all gone.

Now there's a foreclosure sign in the middle|of our beautiful, beautiful lawn.

If that's not bad enough, Uncle Hendrick|said we can't bring Grace with us...

... when we go to live with him.|We have to give her away, Dad.

How can I give her away?

I wanna ask Mother to talk to him again.|She's so sad, Dad.

She hardly ever smiles.

Dad, why aren't you here?

Why haven't we heard from you?|You promised you'd write every week...

... and now it just keeps getting|longer and longer between letters.

You can't disappear.

If you're not working in Chicago,|why can't you not work in Cin...?

Dear Dad, I got a letter|from Frances and Florence yesterday.

They're settled with family|in Sacramento, California, doing great...

... just like you said.

Did Mother mention|that Ruthie's father spoke to the bank?

And they're giving us an extra month|to stay in the house?

I know that Ruthie pushed for us.|She's such a true friend.

Last week, Mother made a dress for me|out of a chicken-feed sack.

I wore it on the first day of school.|I didn't mind a bit.

It's so beautiful.

In fact, a few of the girls|thought it looked so smart...

... she made some for them too.|For money.

Imagine that.

All that feed-sack material|was being thrown away.

That's pure profit.

Aunt Millie will be so proud,|and Uncle Hendrick will be horrified.

I think I'll wear it the first day|we move in with him.

I know your legs are short,|but you can do it.

Yes, good girl, good girl.

And selling eggs isn't as bad|as I thought. In fact, it's kind of fun.

Eggs! Get your eggs!|Fresh eggs. Fifteen cents a dozen.

Get your eggs. Fresh eggs.

Mr. Berk went to pick up his cousin|Frederich from the train station.

I think a new face in the house|will cheer us all up.

And wherever Will and Countee|are, I only hope...

Is he wearing the diaper?

Yes, Jefferson.

A monkey?

His name's Curtis. Hmm. Heh.

I love you, Curtis.|Who's my little monkey boy?

He's so cute.

Stirling, get away|from that hideous creature now.

Oh, oh, oh!

Get it off. Get it off. Off, off, off!

Curtis, come.

Scratch his little tummy...

...and he'll be your friend forever,|won't you?

If I scratch his...

Margaret.

It's a good thing we're moving|because otherwise, we'd move.

Uh, Mr. Berk, there's a cot|ready for you upstairs now.

I'm sorry for the mess.|It's such a large house to pack up.

There's no time to do it.

Thanks for your trouble,|ma'am. I'm only staying a few days.

- Are you from Baltimore too, Mr. Berk?|- Call me Frederich.

Originally, I'm from Canada.|- What a coincidence.

- I thought you were from Poughkeepsie.|- Shh!

Uh, but I moved to Baltimore in '22|to work with Jeff in the magic show.

We called ourselves Luigi and Sam.

I was Luigi.

Yeah. Good times.

Anyway.

Jeff would saw a woman in half|while Lola sang.

- Lola?|- Yeah.

Lola. This was her favorite spot.

May she rest in peace.

The sheriff said it was an inside job.

So Mr. Berk knew|where Mother kept the jewels and money.

But how did Mr. Berk get the brooch|out of the lockbox and into Will's tent?

What if he never put the brooch|in the box?

That's it. A sleight of hand.

Remember when Mr. Berk|put his watch in the jewelry bag?

He must taken the brooch out,|put it in his pocket...

- And given it to...|- Frederich.

He must have stolen Will's boots.

Right. And that means that Frederich|must have gone to Will's camp...

...dressed as a hobo|and hid the boots and jewelry in Will's tent.

All Mr. Berk needed to do|was to make the sheriff suspect Will.

The limp.

Will said someone kicked him|in the knee.

They made him limp|and then committed a crime...

...where a limping hobo|could be identified.

- At my house.|That's why he did it in broad daylight.

He left the boot print in the mud...

... and wanted someone to see him|limp away.

What's going on over there?

We figured it out, Kit.|But now we have to go to the police.

No, not without proof.

Do you know where?|Of course.

I certainly hope so.

Perfect.

Let's go look in their room for the money.

If anyone comes back, blow this whistle.

Are you sure about this?

Look, how often is the house|completely empty?

Everyone's gone. It's now or never.

Come on.

- Ruthie, keep watch.|- Okay.

We need to find our money.|Where is it? It's all the money we have.

In mystery novels...

...there's usually a button|on the side of these trunks...

...that opens a secret compartment.

Where is it? Where's that button?

Ruthie, I found it.

This is the red wallet.

Thought you said you had a map.|I do.

I have one.

- I just don't remember where exactly.|Oh, that's great.

- You need a map to find the map, right?|- I've got a map, Jeff.

Ruthie, your mother's necklace.

But where's the lockbox?

Look at this.

Dayton. Cincinnati. Hamilton.

Sarnia? No.

Columbus.

Cleveland. Ruthie, do you know|what this means?

Yes.

- No.|- Mr. Berk's cousin...

...has been in every city|where the hobo crimes happened.

Holy cow.

Oh, my gosh. Where'd this come from?

Stirling.

The hobo sign for danger.

Shh!

Make him stop that squealing.|Put him in that thing.

- He doesn't react well to tension.|- Neither do I. You don't hear me screaming!

All right, just give me the map.|Come on, let's go.

What are you doing?

There is no map.

Right? You buried the loot, but you have|no idea exactly where you buried it.

Let me think, all right?

- Just let me think.|- Yeah, well, that'll take forever.

I put it somewhere I knew I wouldn't forget,|somewhere I was sure to find it.

You see?|I'm not the numbskull you think I am.

Okay, great. Let's just get going, okay?|Come on.

Hey, what's this doing open?

Is everything still there?

- Where is it?|- Shh.

You probably just left it open by accident.|Come on, let's go.

Then what's this rock doing here?

It probably came from the out-of-doors.

It's got Hobo writing on it, Jefferson.|It means danger.

I don't like it.

Not one little bit.

All right, help me with this trunk.

- Where are we going with my trunk?|- No, we are not going anywhere.

That would just raise suspicion.

You are gonna tell me exactly|where the loot is buried.

Then you're on a 4:00 train to Baltimore.

Bal...? By...? By myself?

I hate traveling alone.

Frederich, if your instinct is right,|and I highly, highly doubt it...

...I don't want to have any nosy boarders|or ambitious little sheriffs sniffing around.

It's too risky. Do you understand me?

- So let's go.|- What about Curtis?

I promise I'll bring him to you|next week, okay?

- You won't forget he likes raisins?|- Can we just go, please?!

Come on.

Wait, my coat.

It's right there on the chair.

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