by Bobbi Holmes
Walt took a lazy puff of his cigar while considering the recent turn of events. After he exhaled, he asked, “You said the thief left a shamrock in the box?”
Danielle nodded. “We assume whoever took the coins had to have left it. Of course, it wasn’t a real shamrock.”
“Hmm…shamrock and gold?” Lily snickered as she removed the necklace and handed it back to Danielle, who promptly returned it to its velvet pouch.
“What’s so amusing?” Danielle asked as she pulled the ties to the pouch tightly shut.
“What do shamrocks and gold have in common?” Lily asked with an impish grin.
“Leprechauns?” Walt answered.
Danielle glanced at Walt and then back to Lily. “So what, you saying a leprechaun took the gold?”
“Well, maybe.” Lily grinned. She leaned forward and said in a low conspiratorial voice, “Did you know there’s a leprechaun colony in Portland?”
Rolling her eyes, Danielle said dryly, “Is there now?”
Walt chuckled and said, before taking another puff, “Lily is starting to scare me. I think my haunting of Marlow House is getting to her.”
“Oh, I’m serious,” Lily said excitedly. “Ian showed me. It’s called Mill Ends Park—it’s like the smallest park in the world, something like two feet square.”
“Hmm, that is pretty darn small,” Danielle agreed.
With a nod Lily said seriously, “It has the distinction of being the only leprechaun colony west of Ireland.”
Walt frowned. “Please tell me Lily doesn’t really believe in leprechauns.”
Danielle laughed and looked from Lily to Walt. “Why not, she believes in ghosts.”
Lily smiled and looked from Danielle to the seemingly empty spot on the sofa where she assumed Walt was sitting. “What is he saying?”
“He’s afraid you really believe in leprechauns.”
Lily started to laugh. When she regained her composure, she looked to Walt’s space and said, “Sometimes you can be such a goof!”
“Goof?” Walt sounded insulted.
“I don’t think he liked being called a goof.”
Rolling her eyes, Lily shook her head and said, “No, Walt, I don’t believe in leprechauns. I thought you knew me better than that.” She looked at Danielle. “But it is true about Mill Ends Park and it’s supposed leprechaun colony.”
Danielle looked at Lily. “I remember reading something about it. I guess it’s one of those things that keeps Portland weird.”
Lily nodded. “Isn’t that the truth. Anyway, when you said you found a shamrock, and the gold was missing, I couldn’t help think leprechaun. After all, aren’t they known for stealing gold?”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if whoever took the gold left the shamrock in the safe deposit box for that very reason,” Danielle said.
“What, to throw the cops off so they’d start looking for a leprechaun?” Walt scoffed.
“Noooo.” Danielle rolled her eyes.
“You two need to stop rolling your eyes,” Walt scolded. “It really is not very becoming.”
“Then you need to stop being so goofy,” Danielle retorted.
Walt rolled his eyes, shook his head, and took a puff of his cigar. Danielle began to laugh.
“What’s so funny?” Lily asked.
“Just Walt telling us to stop rolling our eyes, and then he goes and does it.” Danielle flashed Walt a grin. “Anyway, I figure whoever stole the gold probably has some twisted sense of humor and thought leaving a shamrock in the box would be an amusing touch.”
“Could be a clue,” Lily suggested. “Look for a thief with a twisted sense of humor.”
“I suspect it’s got to be an inside job—someone from the bank. Has to be. But if it is someone with a sense of humor, I rule out the new bank manager,” Danielle said.
Before anyone could respond, Lily’s cellphone began to ring. She pulled it from her purse, which she had tossed on the floor next to her feet when sitting down a few minutes earlier. After looking at it, she said, “It’s Ian. Can I tell him about the gold?”
“Sure. But tell him not to say anything to anyone just yet,” Danielle told her.
When Lily got off the phone a few moments later, she told Danielle and Walt she needed to get going. She had been on her way to meet Ian when Danielle had caught her on the staircase a few minutes earlier. They planned to drive to Portland, and Ian was wondering what was taking Lily so long.
“When you’re in Portland, would you do me a favor?” Danielle asked as Lily stood up and picked up her purse, draping its strap over one shoulder.
“Sure. What?”
“Stop by Mill Ends Park and see if one of those leprechauns has my gold.”
Lily grinned. “Sure. No problem.”
Five
“I once knew a man who insisted leprechauns were real,” Walt told Danielle after Lily left.
Leaning back again on the sofa, Danielle looked over at Walt.
Wearing his favorite blue, three-piece pinstripe suit—minus its jacket and tie—with the top two shirt buttons unfastened and its shirt sleeves pushed up slightly, Walt stared off into space, as he recalled that long-ago person, whom he hadn’t thought about in literally decades. “Sean Sullivan. That was his name.”
“Sean Sullivan? Sounds like a nice Irish name. You think he really believed in them, or was he pulling your leg?”
Walt gave the cigar a gentle flick—it vanished. “No, he really believed it. Peculiar fellow. Was a good friend of Katherine O’Malley.”
“My aunt’s mother?”
Walt nodded. “Yes, for a time I suspected he might be Brianna’s father.”
“You never told me that!”
Walt shrugged. “Never saw a reason to. It’s not like he was her father.”
“But I’ve always wondered who Brianna’s father was. Why did you think it might be Sullivan—and why did you change your mind?”
Shifting slightly on the sofa, he considered the question a moment before answering. “He was always coming over here when she was working. I know it bothered her; she was afraid he was going to get her fired. She was always apologizing to me about him showing up. Which is why I figured he was probably Brianna’s father—and at the time, it explained why they weren’t married.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Like I said, he was a peculiar fellow. I assumed she had gotten involved with him before she knew how he really was, and when she finally realized his true nature, she didn’t want to marry him, yet couldn’t figure out how to get him to stay away.”
“So why did you change your mind and decide he wasn’t the father?”
“One day I overheard them arguing. They were arguing about Brianna’s father. It was obvious to me that Sullivan knew who it was, and he wasn’t happy the man refused to take responsibility for his daughter.”
“You never asked him who it was?”
Walt frowned. “Ask him? It really was none of my business, Danielle.”
With a sigh, Danielle sank back on the sofa. “I guess you’re right.”
“I usually am.”
Danielle rolled her eyes.
“Stop that,” Walt scolded.
Danielle smiled. “So tell me about this Sean Sullivan and his leprechauns.”
“Nothing much to tell, really. I just remember once he seemed a little agitated when he was leaving, and I asked him what was wrong. He told me, ‘He just won’t leave me alone.’ I asked him, ‘Who won’t leave you alone?’ and he said, ‘The leprechaun.’ He told me the leprechaun was always playing tricks on him, but that someday he was going to catch him and force him to take him to the pot of gold.”
“Pot of gold?”
“According to Sullivan, all leprechauns have a pot of gold hidden somewhere.”
“What did you say?”
Walt smiled at the memory. “Not much at the time. I believe I did a lot of nodding. After he left, I had a little talk with Katherine O’Malley. I was concerne
d for her safety—associating with someone who was so obviously unstable. She assured me that he was an old friend—they had grown up together. Practically a brother, she called him. And she insisted that while he might be peculiar, he was harmless.”
“People have thought I was crazy for believing in ghosts.”
Walt let out a snort. “Not exactly the same thing.”
“How do you figure?”
“For one thing, there are no such things as leprechauns.”
“How do you know?” Danielle asked.
“I’m dead.”
Danielle laughed. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“I’m dead, so I know things. I would know if there were leprechauns.”
“You didn’t even know you were murdered until I helped you,” Danielle reminded him.
“True. But leprechauns…that’s just silly.”
“I don’t know…” Danielle said in a teasing voice. “Portland is not that far from here, and they do have the only leprechaun colony west of Ireland.”
Walt laughed. “Perhaps. The leprechauns must have moved in after I died. I don’t remember any colony in Portland.”
“Let’s see when those tricky rascals arrived…” Danielle pulled her iPhone from her purse and did a quick Internet search. “Yep, you’re right.”
“How so?” Walt asked.
Danielle looked up from her phone. “Says here the colony was discovered in the forties.” Danielle turned off her phone and dropped it back in her purse.
“I’ve missed so much—now it seems I missed the discovery of Portland leprechauns,” Walt said with faux dramatics.
Danielle giggled and then asked, “I wonder what happened to Mr. Sullivan.”
“I have no idea.” Walt summoned another cigar. “But now that I think about him, I wonder what he thought about Katherine marrying Roger.”
“After Katherine and Roger died, Ben Smith’s father was Brianna’s court-appointed guardian. I wonder why Sean Sullivan never got involved in Brianna’s life. You said they grew up together, and he was upset over how Brianna’s father wasn’t taking responsibility. I wonder why he didn’t do something?”
“What makes you think he didn’t?” Walt asked.
“I’ve talked to both Ben and Marie about what happened to Aunt Brianna after her mother’s death. According to both of them, Brianna had no one—no family.”
“I didn’t say Sullivan was related to her.”
“True. But if they were childhood friends, and from what you say, they seemed to be close, why would he just drop out of Brianna’s life like that?”
“I have no idea. Maybe he didn’t.”
The two sat in silence for a few minutes. Finally, Danielle said, “I wonder if I could find out what happened to Sean Sullivan.”
“What would be the point?”
“Maybe he got married, had kids.”
“Lord, I hope not. Nobody home with that one.”
“But if he did get married and had kids, maybe he talked about his old friend Katherine. After all, her death was pretty sensational back then. And if he knew who Brianna’s father was, then maybe he told someone.”
“Danielle, what’s the point?”
She considered his question for a few minutes. “I don’t know…I guess I like a good mystery.”
“And don’t you have a more pressing mystery at the moment?”
“What do you mean?”
Walt let out a sigh and shook his head. “The missing gold coins.”
“Oh…that…yeah…you have a point.” Danielle slumped back on the sofa, once again contemplating the missing gold coins.
“I’m seriously considering putting in a recommendation to open an FBI office in Frederickport,” Special Agent Wilson joked when he greeted Chief MacDonald that afternoon. Standing in the chief’s office, the two men shook hands and then sat down, with MacDonald taking a seat behind his desk. They exchanged a few pleasantries before getting to the business at hand.
“I haven’t spoken to Ms. Boatman yet, but I did interview Susan Mitchell. She’s insistent that box was filled with gold coins when it went into the vault,” Wilson explained. “At least, it was heavy enough. Her boss seems skeptical that she’d remember something like that, which doesn’t surprise me, considering what this could mean for his bank.”
“Those gold coins received a lot of press. The bank was fully aware of what was going into that vault. And from what Danielle told me, the first box she rented wasn’t quite large enough, so Susan checked her out a larger one. Under the circumstances, I’d think that’s something Susan Mitchell would remember.”
“I tend to agree. I have my people over at the bank. I just wanted to stop in, keep you in the loop.”
“I appreciate that.”
“From what I understand, Ms. Boatman didn’t have the gold coins insured?” Wilson asked.
“That’s what she told me this morning. She was planning to sell them right away and didn’t see any reason to bother with insurance—which I’m sure she regrets now.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that.” Wilson leaned back in the chair. “Without insurance, gets her off the hook for insurance fraud.”
“Insurance fraud?”
“Considering her and Ms. Mitchell are friends, we don’t have to pursue the angle they are in this together for the insurance money. Of course, their target might be the bank.”
“You don’t seriously believe that?”
Wilson smiled. “No. But I like to pursue all angles. I suspect we’ll know more when we see those surveillance tapes. Now, if nothing shows up on those tapes, then obviously we need to look closer at Boatman and Mitchell. This could be about blackmailing the bank. Danielle Boatman is one of their largest depositors. I imagine with her gold coins suddenly missing, she’d be in a position to destroy that bank’s reputation.”
“There is no way Danielle is involved in a scheme to defraud the bank. For one thing, she doesn’t need the money. Hell, she has already donated a significant portion of her inheritance to charity.”
“I understand one reason you called us, you recognize you might not always be objective regarding Ms. Boatman.”
“That is not entirely accurate.”
Wilson stood up. “Don’t worry, Chief. We’ll carefully review all the evidence before drawing a conclusion, and I suspect we’re going to find something on that surveillance video to help us figure out where those coins went.”
Chief MacDonald glanced at his clock. It was almost 5 p.m. It was Saturday, and he was supposed to have the day off. His youngest son, Evan, had already called twice in the past hour, asking when he was going to be home. MacDonald had dropped his sons off at his sister’s after Danielle had called him that morning. Ever since the plane hijacking in April, his boys—especially his youngest son—grew anxious when they had to stay with his sister. It wasn’t that they suddenly disliked their aunt, but when their father was supposed to be home—they wanted him home.
MacDonald was getting ready to leave the station for the day when he received a call from Wilson. Apparently, they had gone through some of the surveillance videos, and Wilson wanted MacDonald to see what they had found.
When Wilson arrived at the office late Saturday afternoon, he handed MacDonald a flash drive.
“What did you find?” MacDonald asked as he sat down behind his desk and inserted the drive into his computer.
“This is from the camera directly aimed at Boatman’s safe deposit box.”
MacDonald settled into his seat and focused his attention on his monitor, with Wilson by his side, looking over his shoulder.
When the video started, MacDonald watched as it played at high speed. The people captured by the surveillance camera—bank employees and bank customers visiting their safe deposit boxes—appeared to be racing frantically in and out of the camera’s view. For a few seconds, when the vault room appeared to be empty, the lens abruptly veered off to the left, no longer aimed a
t Danielle’s safe deposit box, and then it readjusted itself back to its original position. The video then ended.
MacDonald glanced up to Wilson. “I don’t get it? What did I just see.”
“During this same time frame, the other camera aimed at the only entrance into the vault room did not pick up anyone entering the room. It appears it is empty—no one is there. But inside, something made that camera, the one pointed at Boatman’s safe deposit box, suddenly move.”
“I assume someone moved it remotely?”
“No. That particular camera can’t be moved remotely. It’s stationery. The lens direction was manually moved and then moved back. But according to the other cameras, there was no one in the vault room to have moved it.”
“How is that possible?”
Wilson shook his head. “I have no idea. But something moved that lens. And something moved it back.”
“You think that’s when they emptied the safe deposit box?” MacDonald asked.
Folding his hands together, Wilson rested his elbows on the chair’s arms. “What video we’ve seen so far, no one has touched the box where the coins were supposedly kept. What you just watched is the only time we’ve found where the camera wasn’t on the box in question. There is just one problem—”
“The other cameras didn’t capture anyone in the vault room during this time.”
“Exactly.”
Six
June’s sun would be setting in a couple of hours. Chris turned onto Beach Drive, heading home, but first he would stop at Marlow House. He assumed Joanne had probably taken off for the night and was already home.
In the passenger seat next to him, Hunny stood, looking out the window, her tail wagging and butt wiggling. She began to bark wildly, practically jumping up and down on the seat, her uncropped ears flopping as she did.
Glancing to the sidewalk along the right side of the road, Chris found himself slowing down, curious to get a closer look at what had captured his puppy’s attention. There, walking along the road, heading the same direction in which he was driving, was an oddly dressed man wearing a green derby hat, red jacket, leather apron, short green pants, striped socks, and work boots.
