I glare at her. I tried to include her in the search, but she was too busy trying to set me up with Rowan to listen to my ideas.
“If you two are done glaring at each other, can we begin? I need to get back to the inn.”
Ellery always needs to get back to the inn. She works entirely too hard as evidenced by the dark smudges under her eyes. Her face is pale now, too. I hope my not being able to help out with the cleaning hasn’t caused her to work even harder than she usually does.
I’d offer to help her out, but Rowan would lose his mind if he found out I’m cleaning. I’m barely allowed to stumble to the bathroom on my own when he’s around. The man takes his big brother duties way too seriously.
“I read Old Man Mercury’s book,” I begin.
“I don’t think we should refer to him as Old Man Mercury anymore,” Aspen interrupts to say. “It sounds derogatory and he’s nothing more than a lonely old man.”
“What do you think happened to him?” Ellery asks. “He lives in this big family home all by himself. There’s a tragedy there. I’m convinced of it.”
I clear my throat. “One mystery at a time, please.”
“I have to agree with Ashlyn Dream on this. It’s always better to focus your attention on one problem at a time before tackling the next problem.”
“Why am I getting the middle name treatment?” I demand of Lilac.
She shrugs. “Why did I get it?”
I don’t bother answering. It would be a waste of breath and time. And we’ve wasted enough time as it is. I check my watch. I don’t have long before Rowan returns from the bakery. If I’m not back before him, he’ll lose his dang mind. And while I love to drive the man crazy, I don’t love when he denies me his pancakes for breakfast. I’m a sell-out for red velvet.
“Anyway,” I holler and wait for everyone to quiet down before I continue, “As I was saying, I was reading Mercury’s book about the history of Winter Falls, and I realized there’s another building as old as the inn.”
“By the way,” Ellery interrupts to say, “I went through the rest of the boxes in the storage room after your search was called off.”
Called off? Now, there’s a unique way to say I was pulled away from the search by a grumpy bear before proceeding to trip over my own feet and break my ankle.
“Did you find anything?”
She shakes her head. “Sorry. Nothing. There weren’t even any old newspaper clippings. Just boxes and boxes full of knick-knacks I now have to figure out a way to repurpose.”
I shrug. “At least, we tried. Now, to the other building as old as the inn.”
“I know you’re referring to the building where the Winter Falls Post was located,” Lilac says, “but the building is too young to help us in our search.”
I cock an eyebrow. “It is?”
“Of course, it is. The Winter Falls Post was established in 1960 when the town of Winter Falls was founded. The Black Hat Bandit robbed the Hastings National Bank in February of 1955.”
“And,” Aspen adds, “his lover, Patricia, sent the letter about the hidden money in 1955, too.”
I smirk. “Are all of you done proving you’re wrong?”
Lilac purses her lips. “Wrong? I’m offended by your claim I’m wrong.”
“It’s not claiming when I can prove it,” I sing.
She motions for me to go ahead.
I flourish Mercury’s book about the history of the town and open it to the page I’ve marked. I set the book on the table and my sisters gather around me. I tap the picture of the former newspaper office, which now houses Naked Falls Brewing.
“Read the caption.”
“The Winter Falls Post building was built in 1945 as the residence of Mr. and Mrs. Martin,” Aspen reads out loud.
“Which means this building was around when Robert Adams, aka the Black Hat Bandit, was staying in Winter Creek.”