The Ghost and the Leprechaun

by Anna J. McIntyre

  “Yes.” Danielle looked at Agatha. “I was at the museum earlier, going through some old documents, and I came across the name Paddy Fitzpatrick, who I believe used to live in Frederickport sometime in the early 1900s, maybe even in the late 1800s. I understand your maiden name was Fitzpatrick and that you’re from Frederickport, so I was wondering if perhaps he was a relative.”

  Agatha took a sip of her drink and then set the glass on the end table. “My grandfather was named Patrick Fitzpatrick, but everyone called him Paddy. But he wouldn’t be the man you’re asking about.”

  “Why do you say that?” Danielle asked.

  “My grandfather never lived here. My grandmother moved to Frederickport with my father after her husband died. So he couldn’t be the same man.”

  “Do you know if there were any other Fitzpatricks in town back then?” Danielle suspected Agatha’s grandmother was the Fitzpatrick Walt had mentioned.

  Agatha shook her head. “Not that I ever heard about.”

  Danielle took a sip of her drink and then set it on a coaster on the coffee table. Perhaps, she thought, the spirit of Agatha’s grandfather followed his widow and son to Frederickport.

  “Can you tell me anything about your grandfather?” Danielle asked.

  “Why? I told you he never lived in Frederickport.”

  “I just find family history fascinating.” Danielle smiled sweetly.

  Agatha frowned. “Other people’s family history?”

  “I don’t really have any family of my own—not anymore. So I suppose I do enjoy listening to other people tell their stories. There is no one left in my family to tell me about my ancestors.”

  “If you’re really interested.” Agatha settled back in the recliner and readjusted her shawl. “According to my father, Grandpa Paddy enjoyed his whisky—a little too much, as most men seem to do. And he was a practical joker. Some found it amusing, others didn’t.”

  “Practical joker?” Danielle asked.

  “Yes, he was always playing jokes on people. Unfortunately, he didn’t know when enough was enough. Father claimed his mother adored her husband—in spite of his penchant for pushing a joke beyond the limits—and she was constantly making excuses for him. In turn, he was quite in love with her. At least, that was my father’s perception. I suspect his opinion was tainted by personal bias.”

  “Why do you think that?” Danielle asked.

  “I would think if a man truly loved his wife and son, he would be working to support his family, coming home at night, not getting drunk night after night, stumbling home drunk.” Agatha frowned in disgust.

  “So he was an alcoholic?”

  “I think back then they just said he enjoyed his drink. In the end, his foolish ways left behind a widow forced to support herself and her son. She moved to Frederickport, lived in a little shanty on the end of town and took in laundry to support herself and my father. Had I been my grandmother, I would have kicked him out before he killed himself.”

  “He killed himself?” Danielle asked.

  “It’s not like he put a gun to his head and pulled the trigger. But he might as well have.”

  “He was drunk and fell off a horse,” Joyce quietly explained.

  “It was not that he was just drunk,” Agatha scoffed. “It was Saint Patrick’s Day, and he decided to dress up like a leprechaun. Made a fool of himself before he got himself killed, wearing a ridiculous green derby hat, red jacket and a leather apron—”

  “Red jacket?” Danielle interrupted.

  “Yes. Leprechauns used to wear red, or so my father told me,” Agatha explained.

  “Umm…and a leather apron?”

  “It was a blacksmith apron, but it was supposed to be a cobbler’s apron,” Agatha told her.

  “According to legend, leprechauns repair shoes,” Joyce explained.

  “Apparently my grandfather left his wife and son at home so he could go drink with his buddies. After he got drunk, he went around town, trying to convince everyone he was a real leprechaun and daring them to catch him. Because, according to legend, if you catch a leprechaun, he’ll grant you three wishes. Someone took him up on the offer, a chase on horseback ensued, and the foolish man ended up falling from the horse and breaking his useless neck.”

  “Oh my, that’s horrible.” Danielle gasped.

  “My grandmother was devastated. She loved the old fool. However, I suspect one reason she moved after his death, people were rather cruel.”

  “Cruel?” Danielle frowned.

  “From what my grandfather told mother,” Joyce explained, “the townspeople seemed to find the circumstances of his death more amusing than the tragedy it was to his family. He was portrayed as a drunken fool. I don’t think my great-grandmother wanted her son exposed to that.”

  “This is my story! I can tell it!” Agatha snapped. Joyce immediately retreated into silence.

  “It must have been difficult for your grandmother.”

  Agatha scoffed. “What woman could really love a man like that? I imagine she was seduced by his good looks. Unfortunately, the handsome ones are typically not worth a lick,”

  “Handsome? Does this mean you have a picture of him?” Danielle perked up.

  “Certainly, in our family album. Would you like to see it?” Agatha asked.

  “I would love to!” This has got to be our leprechaun. His picture will confirm it!

  Agatha turned to face Joyce. “Go get the family album and find the photograph for Danielle.”

  Submissively, Joyce stood and scurried to the nearby bookshelf to retrieve the album.

  Anxious to have her suspicion confirmed, Danielle waited for Joyce to bring the album to her.

  Before returning to the sofa, Joyce opened the leather-bound photo album and turned to a specific page and then showed her mother. “This is him, isn’t it?”

  “Yes.” Agatha nodded, pushing the album away.

  Danielle remained sitting on the sofa when Joyce sat down beside her, sitting much closer than she had been a moment earlier. She placed the open album on Danielle’s lap and pointed to the black-and-white photograph of her great-grandfather.

  Staring at the photograph, Danielle frowned and leaned closer, her eyes now squinting. After a moment of silently studying the picture, she looked up at Agatha and blurted, “This isn’t him.”

  Twenty-Eight

  Instead of going straight home after leaving Joyce Pruitt’s house, Danielle took a detour and drove to the south side of town, to Chris’s new business offices, previously known as the Gusarov Estate. It had taken Chris’s real estate agent, Adam Nichols, a little finagling to get the prime beachfront property rezoned to allow the Glandon Foundation to use the mansion for their new headquarters. The building itself already had more an industrial, as opposed to residential feel, with its extensive use of glass and steel construction. There was no signage on the massive building or on the rod iron fence surrounding it. This wasn’t because the city wouldn’t allow it, but because Chris did not want it.

  If she didn’t already know Chris normally parked his vehicle on the long driveway, beyond the security of the fence and out of sight from the street, she would assume no one was at the Glandon Headquarters, since there were no cars parked nearby.

  Driving up to the building, she pulled along the sidewalk and parked her car. The front gate did not appear to be locked, so she saw no reason to call Chris and ask him to let her in.

  When Danielle reached the front door, she didn’t bother knocking, but instead turned the doorknob to see if it was locked. It wasn’t. The moment she opened the door, Hunny greeted her. The excited puppy barked; her plump sausage body wiggled and tail wagged.

  Stepping into the entry hall, Danielle dropped to her knees, letting her purse fall to the floor. She scooped the puppy up in her arms, accepting the wet kisses now covering her face. “You are never going to make it as a guard dog!” Danielle laughed.

  She heard a woman’s voice say, “Danielle?�
��

  Looking up from Hunny, Danielle turned to face the doorway leading into what had once been the living room, and found her neighbor Heather Donovan looking down at her.

  Heather wore a calf-length purple knit dress and black leggings. Her dark hair was pulled into two pigtails and twisted into buns. It might have given her a Princess Leia look if not for the spiky way the ends of her pigtails randomly stuck out from each bun. Her straight bangs had recently been trimmed, revealing delicately arching brows.

  “What are you doing here?” Danielle asked in surprise as she stood up, leaving Hunny on the floor, begging for more attention.

  “I’m working here now!” Heather cheerfully boasted.

  Before Danielle had a chance to ask more questions, Chris appeared from down the hallway, a broad smile on his face. “Hey, what a surprise! Did you meet my first official staff member?”

  “Yes, I did.” Danielle glanced from Chris to Heather, who brimmed with excitement.

  “I’m just answering the phones right now and—” a phone ringing in the waiting area—previously the living room of the Gusarov Estate—interrupted Heather. Flashing Danielle and Chris a smile, she abruptly turned from the pair and rushed to answer the phone.

  When Danielle was alone with Chris, she turned to him and whispered, “Heather?”

  Chris reached down and picked up Hunny, who was now vying for his attention. Holding the squirming pup in his arms, he looked at Danielle and shrugged. “She really needed the job.”

  Danielle glanced toward the waiting area and back to Chris. In a low voice she said, “I know, but Heather? She drives you nuts.”

  With another shrug, he said, “I know. But she’s really been struggling, and we both know her heart is in the right place.”

  Danielle grinned. “I think it’s sweet of you.”

  “Considering everything that’s happened the last few months, I felt it would be wise to surround myself with people I feel I can trust. Heather has certainly been known for going out of her way to right a wrong, even when she couldn’t afford it financially.” Leaning down, Chris released Hunny, who ran into the waiting area.

  “I’m glad you did.”

  “So, to what do I owe this unexpected visit? Did you just miss me?”

  “Actually, I wanted to talk about leprechauns.” Danielle glanced to the doorway leading to the waiting area and back to Chris. “And since Heather is here, we might as well include her in this conversation.”

  Heather and Chris sat in silence as they digested what Danielle had just told them.

  “But that doesn’t make any sense,” Heather finally said.

  “Tell me about it,” Danielle agreed. “If Agatha’s grandfather hadn’t been wearing that leprechaun outfit when he died—one identical to the one worn by the spirit who has been hanging around our neighborhood—I would assume the name was simply a coincidence and the Paddy Fitzpatrick mentioned in the doctor’s notes had nothing to do with Agatha’s grandfather.”

  “Are you sure it wasn’t the same person?” Heather asked. “I’ve had pictures taken of me that later I thought didn’t look anything like me.”

  Danielle shook her head. “No. Without a doubt these are not the same men. The one we saw had strawberry blond hair. Agatha’s Paddy had coal black hair.” She paused a moment and looked at Heather. “Like yours.”

  “I assume it was a black-and-white photograph. How can you be sure his hair wasn’t red?” Chris asked.

  Danielle shook her head again. “No. It was black and our leprechaun is more blond than red. Plus, the man in the picture looked nothing like the guy we saw. Different shaped face, different nose. The man in the picture was handsome, but our guy is rather plain, even a little homely.”

  “Is it possible for a ghost to take on a different look? Maybe he changed his appearance?” Heather suggested.

  Danielle looked to Chris for input. Unlike Heather, who was a relative novice when dealing with spirits, both Chris and Danielle had been encountering spirits since they were children.

  “I’ve never experienced that. The only thing, a spirit doesn’t necessarily show himself as he looked at death. He might show a younger—or even older—version of himself. But never as another person. I suppose it’s possible. But I’ve never seen it,” Chris explained.

  “I would be happy to ignore this spirit if I wasn’t fairly certain he’s the one who somehow moved that gold from the bank. And apparently, another safe deposit box was hit. With him hanging around our houses, it’s like having a burglar primed to hit at any moment, yet we can’t even call the cops or lock our doors to keep him out.”

  “I have a new blend of oils I’ve been wanting to try,” Heather suggested. “I could get them.”

  “To do what exactly?” Chris asked.

  “At least we could keep him from entering our houses. He’s already been in Danielle’s bedroom. I could start by setting up a diffuser at Marlow House.”

  Danielle smiled. “Umm…if the oils really work at driving away spirits, what about Walt?”

  Heather started to say something but paused. With a frown, she reconsidered her suggestion.

  Chris grinned. “Maybe Heather is right. Let’s get that diffuser running at Marlow House.”

  “Oh, funny,” Danielle said dryly. She stood up.

  “Where are you going?” Chris asked.

  “I need to get back to Marlow House. I’ve been gone all day, and we do have people staying there, and a couple of them have been acting a little strange. It’s a good thing I have Walt keeping an eye on things.”

  “So this is a no on the diffuser?” Chris asked with a faux pout.

  The man Danielle knew as Blake Spicer sat alone on the porch swing of Marlow House, smoking a cigarette and holding his cellphone to his ear as he waited for Alan Kissinger to answer his call.

  “Have you got it yet?” Alan answered a moment later.

  “No. The Hortons—who, by the way, not only sound like something out of a Dr. Seuss book, but I’m beginning to think they belong in one—don’t know what a freaking vacation is supposed to be. They’re both just hanging around the house and won’t get off their butts and go somewhere and do something.”

  “Where is Boatman? And that other woman who lives there?”

  “Danielle has been coming and going all day long. The other one, Lily, she took off with her boyfriend earlier. I think she said something about going to Astoria. This should be freaking easy!”

  “Maybe you need to do something with the Hortons?”

  “Do something, what?”

  “I don’t know, you have your gun with you, don’t you?”

  “Whoa!…I am not killing them.”

  “Don’t be stupid,” Alan snapped. “I didn’t mean for you to kill them. But you could take them by gunpoint, tie them up, and then take the necklace and get the hell out of there. You’re in disguise and Boatman’s going to know who took it anyway once you take off early and she realizes the necklace is missing.”

  “Now who is being stupid?”

  “What do you mean?” Kissinger asked.

  “Our plan only works if we have time to get far away from Marlow House before Danielle knows the necklace is missing and realizes we took it. Time to dump the rental car and get out of these disguises. But what happens if someone shows up at the house three minutes after we leave, and finds the Hortons tied up? And don’t even suggest we take them with us, because I don’t do kidnapping.”

  “Okay, okay. You have a point. But your window of opportunity is narrowing.”

  “Tomorrow is Friday, and the Hortons are checking out then. According to Danielle, the next guests arrive Saturday afternoon. So I figure once the Hortons leave, all we have to worry about is getting rid of Danielle and Lily for a couple hours. Lily seems to take off a lot with her boyfriend, anyway. So I don’t think she’ll be a problem.”

  “Isn’t there a housekeeper?”

  “Yeah, but she doesn’t seem to stic
k around much.”

  Five minutes later, the woman Danielle knew as Jeannie joined Dave on the swing. He had just gotten off the phone.

  “Who were you talking to?” she asked.

  “Alan. He keeps asking me why this is taking us so long.”

  “Yeah, we always take the risks and he nags.” Jeannie leaned back in the swing. “So did you tell him about our problem getting into the room?”

  “You mean being unable to get the doorknob to unlock?”

  Jeannie nodded. “I don’t know what the problem was. I watched Danielle unlock that door with her key. It’s not like it was broken or anything. I’ve never had a problem picking a lock.”

  “How do you think I felt?” He patted her knee.

  “I’m sorry I was such a bitch up there about it,” she apologized. “I acted like the whole thing was your fault.”

  “I understand.” He patted her knee again.

  “It might be easier if we got ahold of Danielle’s bedroom key,” she suggested.

  “I wonder what Alan would say if he knew we couldn’t even get the stupid door unlocked.”

  “You know what I think?” she asked.

  “What, babe?”

  “I think this time, after we get the necklace, we tell Alan to stick it and keep his share.”

  Dave laughed. “I would agree with you, babe, but think of all the good leads we’d miss out on.”

  Twenty-Nine

  Danielle made one final stop before heading back to Marlow House. She went by the Chinese restaurant and ordered takeout. Lily and Ian were in Astoria and weren’t returning until after dinner. Danielle wasn’t responsible for feeding her guests, and since she had heard them discussing where they intended to go for dinner, she didn’t see the need to buy extra. When Chris had walked her out to her car earlier, he had invited her to dinner, an offer she declined. She explained she was exhausted and would have to take a rain check.

  While her intention was to buy Chinese for one, she couldn’t decide what she wanted to eat, so she ended up purchasing enough food for several extra people. As she carried the purchase out to her car, she thought it a shame Walt no longer ate food.