Chapter 10
Ivy tapped the number to the police chief’s office and asked for Clark. She leaned against the kitchen counter in her apartment unit above the garage at the inn. Shelly and Poppy sat at the kitchen table waiting.
When Clark’s voice boomed over the phone, Ivy quickly told him what they were planning. “If anyone asks, we’re thinking about a temporary community garden, and Shelly is checking the soil.”
A long pause ensued, and Clark finally said, “Ivy, I didn’t hear that.”
“No, we really are considering that. Depending on how the library and art museum are situated on the lot, we hope to have enough space for a small community garden. Shelly will demonstrate how seeds are planted and show people how to prune and care for vegetables and fruits. It will be part of the learning center.”
That last part was a fresh idea, but why not? Ivy thought.
There was another pause. As Ivy held her breath, Shelly crossed her fingers.
“That’s different, and it’s a commendable plan,” Clark finally replied. “You’ll let me know if you need any help.”
“We will,” Ivy promised.
When she hung up the phone, Shelly and Poppy clapped and cheered.
“Operation treasure hunt is underway,” Shelly said. “That must be where Amelia hid the gold. Why would she leave all her cash in the bank during a war? If I were her, I’d have something handy in case I had to escape.”
“Or it might be more relics she rescued from Europe,” Poppy added.
The trio made their way downstairs to the garage and got into Ivy’s car. The shovels were still in the trunk. Even though they now had a plausible, and potentially real, cover story, Ivy still hadn’t told Bennett or her brother about this.
Because she didn’t want to hear a patronizing story about why they shouldn’t do this.
Sunny waved to them through the window as they drove off. They wouldn’t be gone long, and her youngest daughter had become more reliable than when they’d first arrived.
Maybe Ivy should have let her in on the secret mission, but she’d know soon enough if they found something.
A little later, the trio stood at the edge of the library lot, shovels in hand. Ivy had marked the spot with stones the night they were here last, and now they began digging in earnest, the scrape of metal against earth was the only sound besides their breathing and the distant call of gulls.
“This is exciting,” Poppy said, driving her shovel deeper. “As if we’re archaeologists.”
“Or grave robbers,” Shelly added, but her eyes gleamed with anticipation.
A few curious passersby glanced their way, but no one stopped.
After a few minutes, Ivy’s shovel hit something solid with a dull metallic sound. “There it is.”
“Woo-hoo!” Shelly yelled. “Let’s do this.”
Ivy knelt in her jeans, brushing away dirt with her gloved hands. The surface beneath looked rough. “Help me clear it.”
They worked steadily, widening the hole, searching for the edges to figure out what this was. Ivy’s shoulders ached, but she didn’t stop. Whatever was down here, she needed to know.
They all did.
They worked together, scraping away soil until a large metal plate emerged. On one side was a recessed handle.
“It looks like a hatch,” Poppy said, leaning back on her knees.
Ivy’s heart hammered against her ribs. She gripped the handle and pulled. The hatch resisted, sealed under decades of rust and settled earth.
Poppy drew a crowbar from the tool bag she’d brought. “Let’s try some leverage.”
Shelly let out another enthusiastic cry. “Our niece thinks of everything.”
After they took turns loosening the cover, it gave way with a final grinding sound. Together, they lifted the hatch, revealing a pit partially illuminated by sunlight that descended into darkness.
Poppy switched on a flashlight. She swung a beam of light over the metal ladder rungs bolted to the side of the vertical shaft.
Cooler air rushed up from the opening, carrying the smell of age and damp earth.
Shelly peered over the edge, then immediately stepped back. “Oh, no. No way. I’m not going down there. What if there are snakes?”
“They’d probably be long dead,” Poppy said.
“I wonder what this was for.” Ivy squinted into the void. The beam caught metal rungs descending into shadow. She couldn’t see the bottom.
They all peered down the shaft.
“One of us should check it out,” Ivy said.
Poppy nodded. “I can light your way.”
Ivy sat back on her heels. “So I guess I’m the one.”
Shelly and Poppy looked at each other, grinning sheepishly.
“Aunt Ivy, you’re the bravest one, but I’ll be right behind you. I can’t let you go alone.” Poppy attached the flashlight with a lanyard around her neck so she wouldn’t lose it. “I have another light with a head mount if you want it.”
Ivy slipped the device over her head and tightened. “I feel like a miner.”
“Gold miner, I hope.” Shelly crossed her arms. “I’ll stay up here and be the lookout.”
Ivy summoned her courage. “We need to see what’s down there.”
Shelly shook her head. “Maybe you need to see. I’m happy with mystery and speculation. Just bring back treasure.”
Ivy shot her a glance. “As if I’d have anyplace to run off with it. One way in, one way out.”
“Shelly can watch for anyone wondering why there’s a giant hole in the library lot.” Poppy switched to the high beam, sending it sweeping down the shaft. “If someone shows up, tell them we’re investigating the water supply.”
“Is that what this is?” Shelly asked.
Poppy shrugged. “I have no idea, but who would know any better?”
“All right, here goes.” Ivy drew a deep breath and swung her legs over the edge, finding the first rung with her foot.
She tested the strength. The metal seemed solid beneath her weight, which was encouraging.
She tested the next rung, then the next, descending slowly while Poppy aimed the flashlight from above.
The walls of the shaft were concrete. This wasn’t a hastily dug bomb shelter. Someone had taken time and resources to build it.
The Ericksons had the resources, and Amelia had the vision.
The air grew cooler as she descended, and the sounds from above faded, replaced by the echo of her breathing.
At last, Ivy’s feet touched solid ground. With her heart pounding, she stepped off the ladder and swung around, illuminating the small space.
She was standing in a room.
“You’re not going to believe this,” she called out to Poppy above.
This was not a cramped shelter, but an actual underground room about the size of a room in a house. The construction looked old, with a floor and walls made of concrete discolored over the years. Her light beam swept across the space, highlighting items long shielded.
Against one wall was a small desk with a chair. On another stood shelves holding what looked like supplies. A stack of books sat on a table with two chairs.
“Ivy?” Poppy’s voice echoed down the shaft. “What do you see?”
“A room. Like a bunker or bomb shelter. It’s okay, come down.”
After a moment, Poppy appeared on the ladder, descending more quickly than Ivy had. She reached the bottom and immediately raised her flashlight, the stronger beam illuminating more.
“Oh, wow, this stuff is old,” Poppy said, pausing her light on several faded magazines. “Have you ever heard of Life magazine?”
“That’s an old one. What’s the date on it?”
Poppy peered closer. “This one’s from 1943, and another from 1944.”
“And look at all this equipment.” Ivy swept her beam over the desk.
Binoculars sat next to what looked like a viewing apparatus. The device looked intricate and specialized, though she had no idea what it was. Several old notebooks with stained covers sat to one side.
“This is incredible,” Poppy whispered, moving closer to the desk.
Ivy stood in awe of the dusty treasures.
“Remember how Amelia converted the house to care for recuperating service women and men during the war? This must have been a lookout post. The binoculars, the viewing equipment. An attack occurred a little farther north on the coast, so I’ll bet this was used to watch for enemy ships. Or possibly as a shelter.”
Poppy looked around in amazement. “Maybe both.”
Ivy moved to the shelves, finding tins and canned goods with faded labels that were still legible. Other small boxes were wrapped in oilcloth.
Behind them, Shelly’s voice echoed down the shaft. “What’s taking so long? Did you find the treasure?”
“Nothing like that,” Ivy called back. “But something better. A treasure trove of history.”
Poppy touched a pin-up poster of a blond woman in a one-piece bathing suit looking over her shoulder. “This is like a time capsule.”
“Is it safe down there?” Shelly called out.
“Seems to be,” Ivy replied. “The structure is solid. I wish you could see this.”
There was a brief moment of silence.
Then Shelly’s voice echoed through the shaft. “I’m coming down. But if that ladder collapses on me, I’m haunting both of you forever.”
They waited while Shelly descended, complaining about ladders and dark spaces all the way. When she finally reached the bottom, she stood for a moment, breathing hard.
Then she saw the room.
“Oh, my gosh,” Shelly said, turning around with wonder in her eyes. “It’s like we stepped into a time capsule.”
Shelly leaned in for a closer look at the vintage pin-up poster. “That’s Betty Grable. I remember her from old films. That’s probably worth a small fortune. And those magazines might be worth something. Not gold-level money, but collectors would want them.”
Ivy sighed. “Not everything is about money, Shells. Just look at this place. Everything has been well preserved down here. Historians would love to see this.”
Ivy picked up one of the notebooks, opening it with care. The pages were brittle and covered in neat handwriting. Dates, times, observations. There were log entries from whoever had manned this post during the war.
“Someone was down here regularly.” Ivy glanced through the pages. “They were recording what they saw, so this was an active station.”
Then she noticed something that made her smile. At the back of the notebook were doodles and sketches. She looked closer. They were mostly of animals and clusters of fruit, but they were good, like the work of a young, talented artist.
Poppy had moved to a smaller room off to one side. “Aunt Ivy. You need to see this.”
Ivy followed her. “There’s another room?”
She glanced around. Metal bunk beds stood against one wall.
Poppy swung her light to a corner. “There.”
On the other wall was an opening shored up with rough timbers.
“Where do you think that goes?” Poppy asked.
Ivy shrugged. “Maybe that’s a getaway passage. Should we check it out?”
Poppy crouched, examining the entrance. “It looks different from the rest of this place. Maybe it was built afterward.”
Ivy was about to suggest they explore the tunnel when her light swept across something that made her freeze.
On the lower bunk, hidden in shadows, was a sleeping bag.
Not an old military one from the 1940s. This was a modern roll made of a blue synthetic material, the kind sold at sporting goods stores. And next to it, a dirty backpack and a reusable water bottle.
“Someone’s been here,” Ivy said quietly. “Recently, I think.”
They stared at the sleeping bag, the implications sinking in. Someone had discovered this place, probably via the tunnel.
“We need to go,” Shelly said, her voice tight. “Now.”
“Agreed.” Ivy backed toward the ladder, keeping her light on the tunnel entrance. Was someone down there watching them? Had they heard voices and fled deeper into the passage?
Were they coming back?
Shelly reached the metal rungs first, scrambling up as quickly as she could. Poppy followed close behind.
“I’ll be right up,” Ivy said.
She brought out her phone and snapped several photos before scaling the rungs. After pulling herself into the bright sunshine, she rested on the ground, catching her breath. Poppy and Shelly looked shaken from their harried exit.
Poppy nodded toward the hatch. “Let’s close that.”
The three of them eased the creaking cover back into place. They shoveled dirt over it, working quickly to disguise their excavation.
Poppy sat down, breathing hard. “That sleeping bag was new.”
“Someone is living down there.” Shelly rubbed her arms. “Or hiding. Either way, we just broke into their home.”
Ivy recalled something she’d heard. “Didn’t Vanz, the teenager at the farmers market, tell us he had a sleeping bag? What if he found this place?”
Shelly shook her head. “This is getting to be too much to take in.”
“We should tell someone right away,” Poppy said.
Shelly leaned on her shovel. “Tell them what? That we found a World War II bunker with a squatter?”
The implications of their discovery dawned on Ivy. This might slow the development for the library. Or even halt it.
Ivy pulled out her phone but hesitated. If it was Vanz staying there, calling the police might not end well for him. They might never have a chance to help him. She put the phone back in her pocket.
But leaving an underground bunker with someone living in it unsupervised also seemed dangerous. The tunnel might be unstable. If it collapsed while he was inside, he might never be found.
Ivy shuddered at the thought. “We need to bring Bennett and Forrest in on this.”
Poppy nodded slowly. “The sleeping bag looked cheap, and the backpack was pretty banged up. Whoever is sleeping down there doesn’t have much.”
Shelly cast a look at her, and Ivy could tell what she was thinking.
They gathered their shovels and walked to the car.
Ivy glanced over her shoulder. The lot looked like vacant land waiting for construction, with no sign of the secret beneath.
Poppy opened the car’s rear door. “How will we figure out where the entrance to that tunnel is?”
Ivy considered that. “Maybe we’ll ask around to see if there are any old tunnels here.”
“Then people will wonder why we’re asking.” Shelly shook her head. “Operation treasure hunt just got a lot more complicated.”
“Operation rescue mission,” Poppy corrected. “That’s what this is now.”
As they drove away, Ivy couldn’t shake the image of that sleeping bag in the darkness. Someone was hiding in a bunker built to protect people from threats that might have ended decades ago, but not for them.