by Penny Brooke
“Thanks, Fred.” I leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.
He jerked back. “Save some of that for the sheriff over there. Peter would have figured it out if he’d been sleeping in the room like I did. I might have had a couple other clues.”
“You felt it was wet, didn’t you?” I accused.
Fred grinned. He got up and popped out the tiny disk, handing it over to Peter. “Sheriff, there’s your case. Unless you have a problem, I think we need to shut down that tunnel.”
“Oh, no, leave it,” I said. “It’s part of the house and its history. Can’t we leave it, Peter? It didn’t cause any harm until Ben got mixed up with the wreckers.”
Fred shook his head. “You realize what you’re saying, don’t you? That means your great-grandfather—or whatever—most likely was part of the original bunch. This was one of the original houses in town, and the tunnel leads right here. He was a criminal, to put it bluntly, Fiona. Probably got money for building this house that way… among other things.”
“Oh, geez,” I moaned. “GG’s memory will never be the same.”
Peter spoke up. “Fiona, after the case is through the courts, you can do whatever you want, but I know I wouldn’t want a secret tunnel under my house. If they’re using it now, they’ll use it again. It’s like leaving a door open.”
“You’re right. But how will they track down whoever Ben was working with? The mummy thieves?”
Peter grinned. “I don’t think we’ll have any problems getting Ben to talk. It’s something he likes to do.”
Fred agreed.
My guests came back, and we had quite an evening showing off the dumbwaiter and tunnel. Some of the braver men wanted to explore it, but Peter advised against it. “Technically, you’re trespassing, and that tunnel has been there a long time. No telling when it might collapse. Is that how you want to die?”
Ben was turned over to the state police since Peter’s jurisdiction ended at the shore, and there would be some fighting between the state boys and the Coast Guard. Ben would, eventually, end up in prison for a while. The value of the stolen mummies was enough to put it under Federal jurisdiction.
Peter received a commendation and was guaranteed re-election for as long as he wished. He and Fred had developed a mutually respectable friendship, and Peter actually consulted with Fred from time to time.
Fred, as it turned out, wasn’t too old for relocating to Tempest and stuck around the boarding house, helping me out when handyman tasks were needed. I loved having him around.
Gretchen and Sylvia were well-entrenched, and I was finally able to open my Mortimer Antiques.
Peter finally asked me out to dinner, and we stayed until they kicked us out as we talked about the past. There will be more of Peter and me to come in the future.
I hadn’t seen the last of Bernette, but then nothing in life is perfect.
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About the Author
Penny Brooke has been reading mysteries as long as she can remember. When not penning her own stories, she enjoys spending time at the beach, sailing, volunteering, crocheting, and cozying up with a good book. She lives with her husband and their spunky miniature schnauzer, Lexi, and two rescued felines, George and Weezy.
