mr. harvey

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Mystery and Crime  |  House: Booksie Classic

Mr. Harvey


“Are you certain this is going to be enough?”

“As certain as Wednesdays follow Tuesdays.” Harvey - his name for the day - felt giddy looking at Alma who counted the bills again. 

“Make sure my dear Wallace know I’ll have more in a month or two.” 

Tough old bird, he thought. Weren’t they always? Tough and resilient. However, Harvey didn’t believe in old people. He himself wanted to live until he was sixty-five and not a day over: he never wanted to be one of those old farts who take a month to get down the stairs or to finish a sentence. The irony he found quite entertaining, though, was that the older, the better for the business they were. 

“You mentioned he’d met a girl, yes?” Old Alma was now smiling at him.

Oh he did, alright. 

Truth was Wallace Wilbur - such a mouthful name that poor bastard had - had met more than one girl. The Red Wagon was full of girls he had met more than once before he headed to sunny California, but Alma didn’t have the use of all this information now, did she? The old skirt didn’t ought to know Harvey had truly met Wallace only twice: both times at The Wagon, and that second time, drunk as a sailor, Wallace hadn’t failed to mention his darling old aunty Alma who happened to be loaded. If only he could make it back East... Harvey could and he did. 

As far as Alma was concerned, Harvey had been Wallace’s dearest friend during the war and after, and therefore he was here now on his best confidante’s behalf to receive and bring as much as she was willing to give for her favorite nephew’s quick recovery. 

“Yes. She has been taking good care of Wallace and his poor health while I’m gone. Her name is Isabella, I believe she’s Portuguese. Well, at least her parents are.”

“Oh how wonderful! Those people seems to always have great values and family traditions, don’t you think?” Alma was still holding onto the bills and even though he knew the deal was done, the gesture made him nervous. “How did they meet?”

Now she pressed them to her purse, as if some secret women intuition - damn this intuition! - was telling her something wasn’t right. A young couple, rich and good looking fellow and his pretty maid with what seemed to be the smallest waist Harvey had ever seen, walked by them, not bothering to hide their curiosity. 

“I really ought to get going, ma’am. I’ll pass your regards to Wallace.” Callers for the eight o’clock train started encouraging the passengers and great relief spilled like a glass of wine all over Harvey’s body. His charming smile, almost a grin, was a good distraction as he took Alma’s money and walked away without turning back.

The old lady stood there, smiling, watching after him, as two grateful tears rolled down each cheek.

Submitted: May 04, 2020

© Copyright 2021 elly4242. All rights reserved.

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