Page 51 of Shakedown in Savannah

“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.

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