<span style="color: #FF8000">“You make it sound like they murdered someone,”</span>Blake remarked.  At least, that was the only reason he could think of why anyone would need to move so hastily.  If that were really the case, it made him wonder about the ramifications of living here.  A murderer would know their location, for one.  The thought made him uncomfortable.  After Cassandra suggested they hire an inspection service, he heard a soft knock coming from the foyer.<br/><br/><span style="color: #FF80FF">“Pardon my intrusion, but if you have a moment, I would like to show you just one more point of interest?”</span>The agent, Sarah, peered from the door frame.  Blake shared a glance with Cass, but shrugged and gave her the signal to lead the way.<br/><br/><span style="color: #FF80FF">“As you may know, there was a period in time where the fear of a nuclear strike from hostile nations was a very, shall we say, widespread notion,”</span>the agent's blond hair seemed to turn almost auburn as they descended into the basement.  Near the bottom of the stairs, she opened a door and reached up for an overhead switch immediately in front of the frame.  A single, incandescent light buzzed to life, illuminating a fairly spacious area.  There didn't seem to be anything particularly remarkable about the basement.  It was cold and paved, and there was a discoloured space with some wall fixtures where a laundry setup must have once been.  The agent beckoned them to follow, and rounded the corner.<br/><br/><span style="color: #FF8000">“… this house has a <span style="font-style: italic">bunker</span>?"</span>Blake questioned in surprise.  There was a heavy door surrounded by metal walls.  The door looked like it could seal shut quite nicely, with a big lock mechanism adorning the front.<br/><br/><span style="color: #FF80FF">“Originally, yes,”</span>the agent smiled.  She proceeded to unlock the door, then put her clipboard under her arm and hauled it open.  Inside was not what he expected.  It was a<span style="font-style: italic">bar</span>.  There were even some old bottles of wine tucked neatly into a dusty lattice.  Blake released a rather impressed “Huh!” as he walked inside and observed the fine oak finish on the countertop.  It was well kept, almost untouched by time, however much had passed.<br/><br/><span style="color: #FF80FF">“One of the more recent owners decided that, with no need for a bomb shelter, he could renovate it into something more modern.  Also... he,”</span>Sarah eyed Cassandra with womanly sympathy,<span style="color: #FF80FF">“Wanted a wife-free zone.”</span>Blake busied himself inspecting the bottles of wine.<br/><br/><span style="color: #FF8000">“And was this the last owner?”</span>Blake questioned the agent.<br/><br/><span style="color: #FF80FF">“No, this was some couple of decades ago, to my knowledge,”</span>Sarah answered carefully.  Blake looked back at Cassandra.  Surely they had the same question on their mind about the last people to live here.  He hoped it wasn't someone like Ted Bundy or Albert Fish, but he wanted to be optimistic.  They just wanted to be certain.  He really did like this bar, though.