Page 86 of Secrets in the Dark
“I will call, so help me, if I see anything at all!” Harley swore, looking at the card. “My father owned this pub and his father before him. If he continues preying upon young women, he will send us all back to the days when poverty ruled here. Whitechapel today is a district that is diverse and thriving, rebuilding all the time. I will help in any way.”
“Well, youcanhelp more, if you don’t mind. Do you have a wine cellar?” Mason asked him.
“Wine cellar, storage room, old stone foundation basement, really, here since the late 1700s when this building went up,”
“May we see it?”
“Of course,” Harley said. “But—you think that this man is hiding in my cellar?” He shook his head. “I don’t know how that could be possible. I close here, and I’m the man who opens, too.”
“We don’t know, either,” Della said, “but we’d love to see the cellar and get an idea of what is underground.”
“I’ve got some good wine down there,” Harley said dryly. “And some okay wine, too. I have some kegs, and some spirits and... Well, come along. You’ll see.”
There wasn’t another bartender, or even a cocktail waitress to be seen.
There was an older man at the bar and Harley called out to him. “Jagger, keep an eye on the place if someone stumbles in while I’m gone. Back in a flash.”
He nodded to Mason and Della, indicating that they should follow him around the bar. Della glanced at Mason and he knew what she was thinking. The place was popular with a local crowd. Mr. Harley was well liked by his clientele. But apparently, the stairs to the cellar were behind the bar, and she doubted that anyone slipped in and out of the pub without being noticed. Still, they should see the cellar.
They followed him down an old wooden stairway.
Mason didn’t think that Harley had a housekeeper, or even swept down in the cellar often.
But there were kegs lined up against a wall with a refrigeration system that was also used for wines that needed to be kept cold. The latter were stacked up in a new chrome-and-glass shelving unit. Shelves lined the floor as well with bottles of vodka, rum, whiskey, cordials and more.
There was a door at the far rear of the cellar.
“Where does that lead?” he asked Harley.
“Cleaning materials, lad, but come, I’ll show you.”
He led them to the door and opened it.
“I think they put the woodwork in here in the 1800s,” he said. “Odd that they paneled a room like this—can’t think of anything done down here that would require this room to look a bit nicer—as far as I know—and that’s from way back, nothing was ever kept here except for cleaning supplies and the odd bit of necessary machinery now and then. Like I said, it’s an old place, an old building, and while I’m old, I’m not that old!”
As Harley had said, the room had shelves that were stacked with all manner of cleaning supplies. And while the cellar might not be swept or dusted often, the bar and restaurant area of the pub were clean and shining.
Della smiled at him. “Mr. Harley, this place is wonderfully historic, and still so comfortable a pub! It’s a great place.”
“Then you’ll come back when it’s not on business?” he asked.
She glanced over at Mason.
“I think we should come tonight!”
“First pint is on me, lass!” Harley promised.
“Now, there’s a deal,” Mason said. “Thank you. Mind if I walk around in here?”
“Of course not. Go ahead, my friend.”
Mason walked into the room, curious. The shelves were everywhere but the far wall, but the wood paneling there appeared to be just what it was. He saw no possible place in it that might give way to a secret door.
And, unless the man was lying and he was among the Oscar-winning category of actors, the only way down was from behind the bar.
They headed back up the stairs, thanked him again and went out.
He glanced at Della. “All right, what’s bothering you?”
