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development, but nobody had been looking for surprises in the basement, and maybe Lissa could shed some light on the pit. When I got back to my office, I called Lissa, who answered quickly.
    â€œYou know we’re using the Wakeman money to make physical repairs to the building,” I began, “and we’ve beenclearing out about a century’s worth of junk before the construction crew starts—you might have noticed the Dumpster outside. The workers were finishing up in the basement today and they found some kind of pit in the floor. It had a wooden lid on it, and it had been covered who knows how long by some ancient wooden filing cabinets. I’ve asked the construction guys to save whatever they pulled out of it, just to see if it was anything more than a trash pit.”
    â€œI haven’t seen any mention of a pit in the records so far. It’s not a well?” Lissa asked.
    â€œNo water in it now, although it’s possible. I don’t have any idea about things like that. I know there were tunnels to the river under some of the older houses east of here, so I’m guessing the water level was below the level of the pit. But I’m wondering if it was originally outside the building, and in that case, if it might have been a privy.”
    Lissa said, “Ew,” and I laughed. “Don’t worry,” I said, “if that is the case, it hasn’t been used for a long, long time. I think any . . . waste products are long gone. You know the Cotter book?”
    â€œOf course!” Lissa replied eagerly. “
The Buried Past
. I’m glad to hear that you know about it, too.”
    â€œMr. Cotter used to be a member here—he was a delightful man. If I remember correctly, he included a section on Philadelphia privy pits and what was found in them. You can skim through it again and see if there’s any helpful information there. Oh, and look for the original plans for the mansion and for this building, to see where the perimeters were, and how they line up with our current plans. No need to rush, I’m just satisfying my own curiosity. And of course I’m alwayson the lookout for interesting little bits of information like this, to put in the newsletters or online. Although I’m not sure our patrons would be charmed to learn that they’ve been working above an antique loo—we might have to do some fancy rephrasing.”
    â€œI hear you,” Lissa said, laughing. “Let me see what we’ve got. Surely there must be some plans for the building?”
    â€œAsk our architect—he must have them, or copies of them. Start with him.”
    â€œWill do. I’ll get back to you if I find anything interesting.”

CHAPTER 4
    James picked me up after work and we rode home together. As we pulled into the driveway, I noticed how dark the house looked. “We need to put some lights on timers,” I told him. “Of course, that also means we have to get lamps for the inside.”
    â€œDon’t we have some already?” James said.
    â€œAbout one per room, which is not enough. Do we have an alarm system?”
    â€œYes, but it’s not connected. Besides, we have nothing to steal.”
    â€œTrue, but anyone who broke in wouldn’t know that, and they might get annoyed and start smashing things out of pique.”
    He parked and turned off the engine. “Pique?” He raised one eyebrow.
    â€œWhat, burglars don’t get piqued? How about pissed off?”
    â€œThat’s a more likely response for a burglar, I think. What should we do for dinner?”
    â€œI haven’t a clue. Do we have raw products in the fridge? Because I think we finished off the leftovers last night.”
    â€œWe did and we do. Or vice versa.” James went ahead of me and unlocked the back door, then graciously let me enter before him. I hung up my coat and bag, and went to the refrigerator to forage. Ah,