“That’s right, Miss.”
“But how are guests to reach the place? I see the sign says the bridge is out of commission. Are we supposed to swim over?”
“Not if you don’t want to,” the old man answered evenly. “Mrs. Kippenberg has a launch that takes the folks back and forth. It’s on the other side now but will be back in no time at all.”
“I’ll wait in the car out of the hot sun,” Penny said. She started away, then paused to inquire casually: “Is this drawbridge really out of order?”
The old man was deliberate in his reply. He blew a ring of smoke into the air, watched it hover like a floating skein of wool and finally disintegrate as if plucked to pieces by an unseen hand.
“Well, yes, and no,” he said. “It ain’t exactly sick but she sure is ailin’. I wouldn’t trust no heavy contraption on this bridge.”
“Condemned by the state, I suppose?”
“No, Miss, and I’ll tell you why. This here bridge doesn’t belong to the state. It’s a private bridge on a private road.”
“Odd that Mrs. Kippenberg never had it repaired,” Penny remarked. “It must be annoying.”
“It is to all them that don’t like launches. As for Mrs. Kippenberg, she don’t mind. Fact is, she ain’t much afraid of the bridge. She drives her car across whenever she takes the notion.”