Chapter 20

By the time Pete and Carlita arrived at the Parrot House Restaurant, the local Savannah historian and archaeologist was already waiting for them at the hostess station.

Although the lobby was full, Carlita had no trouble picking him out of the crowd. Wide-brimmed hat. Fitted t-shirt. Loose khaki slacks. Steel-toed boots.

He eased past a group waiting to be seated. "Pete Taylor?"

"Yes."

"I recognize you from a writeup about your pirate ship." The man extended his hand. "I'm Arvid Poindexter, Savannah historian and part-time archaeologist. I don't go by my first name. Please call me Poindexter."

"Poindexter it is. You can call me Pete."

"Thank you for letting me come by on such short notice."

"You're welcome. I'm glad you could fit us in. This is my wife, Carlita. We're eager to find out what's downstairs." Pete looked around. "Do you have equipment?"

"It's in my van." Poindexter explained he didn't want to drag it through the restaurant and draw attention. "Do you have a rear entrance?"

"We do." Pete, with Carlita by his side, led the man outside and around to the back. "The steps are near the center of the building. Unfortunately, we will have to navigate through one of the dining rooms to get to the tunnel system."

Carlita waited near the door while the men left to collect the equipment. They returned, each carrying a large canvas bag.

"I'll get the door." She hurriedly opened it and stepped aside. "Is there anything else?"

"This is it."

The trio trekked down the hall, through the dining room and descended the stairs.

Making quick work of unlocking the first access point, Pete escorted them to the "t" and turned right. Reaching his tunnel, he began working on the first lockset.

"You take tunnel security seriously."

"We had to," Carlita said. "There's another interested party, a person who might be tempted to sneak in here."

"A local?" Poindexter asked.

"Yes. She's chipped away, blasted out, dug through her tunnels and now has her sights set on this one."

"It wouldn't happen to be Elvira Cobb, would it? She's the only person I know of who has been issued a cease and desist letter by the city."

"It's her," Carlita said. "At the risk of not minding my own business, do you know exactly what was in the letter?"

"What you described," Poindexter said. "Concerns about the structural integrity of the tunnels, the walls. Using explosives without securing a permit. Tampering with city property. How did she become involved in this endeavor?"

"It's a long story," Pete sighed. "Most of it a direct result of her persistence and finally wearing me down."

"Will she be joining us today?"

"Not if I can help it. Whether she shows up uninvited is an entirely different matter." He finished unlocking the locks and eased the heavy metal door open.

Poindexter lifted his gaze, studying the ceiling. "I thought this might be the case."

"What?"

"Your ceiling differs from other areas of the tunnel system."

"We noticed the same," Carlita said. "Why do you think this is?"

"My professional opinion is because of the proximity to the river, to withstand the force of the pressure." He ran a light hand across the left-hand side, the wall which was a part of the city's property. "The city has its own building guidelines as opposed to you and other owners who are responsible for maintaining their structures."

"We've already had Stuart Wempley, a structural engineer down here." Pete motioned to the recently installed beams. "At his suggestion, we installed these beams before we chipped away at the tunnel wall."

"I'm familiar with Wempley. The city has used him for various projects. He knows his stuff." Poindexter mentioned a tunnel wall near to the cemetery. "A group of homeless people were living in it. They started messing around with the structure, resulting in a portion of it collapsing. Two of them were injured."

Carlita's hands flew to her lips. "How awful. Did this happen recently?"

"Last year."

"We never heard about it."

"Because the city officials kept it hush-hush. They didn't want to give anyone else ideas." The historian told them they'd reinforced the doors and locks. "It hasn't been a problem since."

Pete adjusted the spotlight, aiming it at the opening.

"I noticed fresh footprints in here."

Carlita told him how they and the others had done some initial exploration. "As soon as we realized there might be some historical findings, we stopped."

"Again, I appreciate you contacting me." Poindexter's hand shook as he unzipped one of the bags. He reached inside and removed what appeared to be a metal detector.

"A metal detector?" Carlita asked.

"Correct. It's a high-end 3D ground penetrating radar. It can detect objects almost a hundred feet down."

Pete leaned in for a closer inspection. "I wonder if Elvira knows about this."

"I'm sure she does," Carlita said. "Did I tell you she's heading to Alaska?"

"Alaska? Why?" Pete waved dismissively. "Never mind. I already know. Gold mining."

Poindexter slid a pair of headphones around his neck. He finished assembling the metal detector and grabbed a heavy-duty flashlight. "I'm ready."

Carlita waited for the men to climb through the opening first. Pete told her the coast was clear, and she followed them in. The trio hovered near the wall while Pete pointed out the general vicinity of where they thought something heavy had been dragged across the ground.

"A jolly boat. It would be an incredible find. Where are the markings?"

"Over here." Keeping close to the perimeter, Pete and Poindexter walked to the side facing the river and made a right. They stopped at the halfway point. "This is it."

Poindexter propped the metal detector against the wall and turned his flashlight on. He beamed it back and forth for several long moments. "Can you hold this?"

"Sure." Pete took the flashlight from him.

Removing his cell phone from his pocket, he aimed it at the ground and began snapping pictures. Inching toward the other side, he continued taking pictures from different angles. "I would like to examine the markings on the other side."

The men returned to their starting point, where Carlita stood watching. They walked to the other end of the wall and then back to the center.

Once again, Poindexter beamed his light back and forth multiple times. "I would like to take a soil sample."

He went into great detail about soil composition, the difference between artefacts (pottery, glass, building materials) and ecofacts (grains, shells, charcoal). "I fear I'm rambling on and boring you to tears. The bottom line is the soil can tell a story."

"Sample away."

Poindexter returned to his duffel bag and grabbed several glass bottles. The couple watched as he collected a sample of the soil near the disturbed area, samples in all four corners and samples near where Pete and Carlita had found the dirt-encrusted gems.

He placed the jars in a plastic bag and then began going over every square inch of the space with his metal detector. Multiple times it went off. Each time he would stop, scoop up the item and place it on a clean white towel.

Curious to find out what he had found, Carlita tiptoed over. Bowls. Long rusty nails. What appeared to be part of a metal brace. Several coins.

An hour passed, and Carlita could see her husband was growing impatient. Finally, he asked how much longer it would take.

"Only a few more minutes. I'm almost done."

After finishing, the men gathered up Poindexter's equipment, the towel with what the detector had found, and made their way out.

Carlita hadn't noticed it before, but the man was sweating profusely. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine. I experience hyperhidrosis when I get excited."

"Hyperhidrosis?"

"Excessive sweating." He pulled a cloth kerchief from his pocket and dabbed at his forehead. "It will take me several days to have the findings analyzed. I'll be in touch."

Pete reached for the second duffel bag. "Based on what you saw today, what do you think was in there?"

"One of the most exciting finds we've had in decades," he said. "Your restaurant, a historical site, sits on top of a second historical site. I would bet my life on it."