The Ghost and the Leprechaun

by Anna J. McIntyre

  “Oh posh, you know I’m right,” Marie clucked.

  “I always thought Beverly was in love with Steve—in spite of his flaws.”

  “Some flaw, unable to keep his pants zipped up,” Marie scoffed.

  “To be honest, I never saw Steve as a player. He was always very professional with me, and back when I was having problems with Jolene, he seemed genuinely sorry. I was pretty shocked when I learned the truth about him.”

  “I suppose we never really know people. By the way, Beverly mentioned she might be leaving town,” Marie told her.

  “Adam mentioned that to me. Doesn’t really surprise me. I wanted to move after my husband was killed.” Danielle finished the last of her sandwich.

  “Sometimes a fresh start is for the best. And sometimes, it is comforting to come home again.”

  Danielle looked up at Marie and smiled. “Are you talking about Mel moving back?”

  “Yes. I admit I’m a little surprised she decided to. But now that she has…” Marie flashed Danielle a smile. “She’s a spunky young woman. In spite of who her mother was. Although, I’m not sure how I feel about a mass murderer in the gene pool.”

  “Jolene’s grandfather?” Danielle asked.

  “Good lord, was there another one in her bloodline?”

  Danielle chuckled. “Who knows. I imagine we all have some sketchy ancestors in our family trees.”

  “True.” Marie nodded.

  “Speaking of family trees, I’ve been thinking a lot of Brianna’s. And who her father might have been.”

  “Ahh, because of that DNA test?” Marie asked.

  “Yes. It got me to thinking about it.”

  “You said you have the results. Doesn’t that tell you anything?”

  “I looked at her results online. No close matches to indicate a parent, siblings or even cousins.”

  “Is there any particular reason why you’re trying to find out who her father was?”

  Danielle shrugged. “I’m just curious.”

  “If that test was really taken after she got sick, I suspect Renton had it done because he wanted to see if there were any close relatives floating around. Maybe a sibling she wasn’t aware of.”

  “That’s kind of what I was thinking too.” Danielle wiped her hands on a napkin. “But there was something else I wanted to ask you, about Brianna.”

  “What’s that?”

  Danielle refolded her napkin. “Did she ever mention someone named Sean Sullivan to you?”

  “Sean Sullivan?” Marie frowned and then shook her head. “No, I don’t think so.”

  “He was a close friend of her mother’s. He and Katherine grew up together. I have a feeling he might have known who Brianna’s father was.”

  “Did Brianna tell you about him?”

  “Yes,” Danielle lied.

  “Did she say he knew who her father was?” Marie asked.

  “No. In fact, I never really talked to Aunt Brianna about her childhood—her parents. But she did mention him once in passing. That he had been a close friend of her mother’s.” Danielle felt bad about lying. But she couldn’t very well say Walt had told her about Sullivan.

  “So what is it exactly you hope to find out about this Sullivan?”

  “I just figure, if he really was a close childhood friend of her mother’s, someone who was still in contact with her after Brianna’s birth, then maybe he knew who the father was.”

  “Do you think he was the father?”

  Danielle shook her head. “No. I don’t.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I can’t really be sure, but I have this gut feeling.” More like Walt is that gut feeling.

  “I seriously doubt he’s still alive,” Marie teased. “What would he be, at least a hundred and twenty by now?”

  “I was thinking, Katherine’s death was pretty sensational at the time. If he got married, had kids, maybe he talked about Katherine to his kids. Maybe even mentioned something about who the father of her child was.”

  “Sounds like a bit of a long shot, dear.” Marie reached across the table and patted Danielle’s hand. “But if you really want to look into this, you might talk to Ben Smith. You know, his father was the court-appointed attorney for Brianna back then. It’s possible his father mentioned something about this Sullivan. But I know my father never mentioned him to me, nor did Mother.”

  “Your mom was pretty fond of Katherine, wasn’t she?” Danielle asked.

  “I think she felt sorry for her. Katherine worked for Walt Marlow mostly, but she also worked a few hours each week for my mother. Katherine needed the money, raising Brianna on her own. But then, of course, she ended up inheriting Walt Marlow’s estate. But that didn’t turn out well for her.”

  Danielle shook her head. “No, no, it didn’t.”

  “Oh! I almost forgot!” Marie stood up abruptly. “I’ll be right back.” She rushed into the house and then returned a few minutes later, carrying a stack of yellowed and tattered envelopes. Before sitting back down, she set the stack on the table in front of Danielle.

  Danielle picked up the envelope on the top of the stack and looked at it. There was a letter inside and the envelope was addressed to George Hemming.

  “I had Adam take a box of photographs down from the attic for me to sort through, and I found those. I thought you might like them. They’re letters from Walt Marlow to my father. It appears Walt wrote those when he was traveling in Europe.”

  “Really?” Danielle slipped one of the letters from its envelope and unfolded it. Walt’s elegant cursive handwriting filled the page.

  Nineteen

  With the late afternoon came the rain clouds, transforming the bright blue canvas a dull gray. In spite of the changing sky, there was no need to bring out an umbrella, even with the dampness permeating the air. However, should the rain start falling, it was doubtful many in Frederickport would reach for an umbrella.

  The change of weather didn’t bother him. It certainly didn’t chase him off the roof, where he sat across the street from Marlow House. Shielded from view by the chimney, he peeked around the brick stack and watched the people come and go. Someone was standing at Marlow House’s attic window, looking down at the sidewalk and the couple getting into their car. He was fairly certain it was Walt Marlow at the window.

  It wasn’t until the man with the dog had arrived that he had been forced outside, which led him to explore his surroundings. He then took a closer look at Marlow House and the person frequently in its attic. It was indeed Walt Marlow.

  But then more people started showing up and he went away for a while. He preferred a quieter place. He didn’t need some human to capture him and demand their three wishes. But when he finally returned and was able to go back into the house, his gold was gone. It then became his mission to reclaim it.

  He looked down at the street. The redhead getting into the car was one of the guests staying at Marlow House. It wasn’t the redhead who lived there and frequently visited the Hemming house. He watched the car drive away, and then he glanced up at the attic window. The man turned away and was no longer in sight.

  There were no vehicles parked in the driveway at Marlow House, just one car parked in front of it. By his estimation, the only people currently inside Marlow House was that other couple staying there. There was of course Marlow himself, yet he didn’t consider him a person per se, and Marlow would pose his own challenges.

  Moving swiftly from Hemming’s roof to Marlow’s, he peeked in the attic window. He spied Walt Marlow sitting on the sofa, reading a book. In a flash, he moved to the brunette’s bedroom window. That was the room with the safe—and the necklace.

  Looking in the window, preparing to enter, he froze. There, stretched out on the bed, was a black cat. The animal appeared to be sleeping, but the last thing he wanted to do was to wake the evil creature. He then noticed the bedroom door was closed, trapping the cat inside the room.

  While the feline’s presence meant he
couldn’t move forward with his plan to procure the lovely necklace, it would enable him to look through the house and see if there was anything else he might be interested in. All he had to do was stay out of the attic and away from Walt Marlow.

  Pushing the parlor blind to one side, Nola looked outside. She glanced back to Albert, who sat on the sofa, flipping through a magazine. “They’re gone.”

  Albert looked up. “Are you sure? Can you even see the street from there?”

  Nola released the blind, sending it swinging gently from right to left until it came to a rest. She turned to her husband. “I saw them go down the walkway and the top of the car drive away.”

  “Just the top of the car?” Albert flipped the page. “Must look pretty strange with just a bottom of a car sitting out there.”

  Nola groaned and stepped from the window. “That isn’t even funny.”

  Never taking his eyes from the magazine, he said, “Probably why I never could make it as a stand-up comedian.”

  Hovering over Albert, Nola said, “Come on, this is our chance!”

  He glanced up from the magazine. “Chance for what?”

  “Everyone is gone. It’s just you and me in the house! Our chance to check it out.”

  With a sigh, Albert closed the magazine and tossed it on the coffee table. “I guess you’re right. Danielle and Lily could come home at any time.”

  When he appeared in the entry hall of Marlow House, the couple was just walking out of the parlor. He hadn’t expected their sudden appearance. If he had been concerned they might see him, that fear vanished when the redhead walked through him, oblivious to his presence.

  “Let’s see how much we can explore of this place before Danielle and Lily get back,” the redhead said.

  “Don’t forget, Danielle said something about a housekeeper,” the man reminded her.

  “She said the housekeeper was coming tomorrow morning. Not today,” the woman told him.

  Narrowing his eyes, he studied the couple as they poked their way down the hall, examining every inch of the wall’s paneling. “Don’t tell me you’re looking for it too!” he said in outrage. “Well, you won’t find the necklace downstairs.”

  He followed them to the library and watched as they stood before the giant portraits, examining each one.

  “So that’s Walt Marlow, I suppose?” the man asked.

  “Yes. Lily told me the other one was his wife,” she told him.

  The man turned his attention back to Walt’s portrait. “So, he’s the one who was murdered in the attic?”

  “You know, he isn’t the only one who has been killed in this house,” she whispered.

  He glanced from the portrait briefly to his wife. “What do you mean?”

  “Something Danielle said when we went up to the attic. I did a little searching on my phone. Did you know someone was murdered in the parlor just a few months ago? And after that, one of the guests died upstairs!”

  “Was she murdered too?”

  “No. It was natural causes.”

  “Which room upstairs?” he said.

  “The article didn’t say. But that’s kind of chilling,” she whispered.

  “Did they catch the killer—the man who was killed in the parlor?”

  “Yes…but still.” She shivered.

  “Still what?”

  “Makes one wonder if maybe this place really could be haunted. I mean, with all these deaths. Who’s not to say their ghosts aren’t hanging around.

  “Ghosts?” He let out a grunt. “Yeah, right, Nola. Ghosts.”

  He couldn’t help it. In the next moment a dozen or more books shot from their places on the bookshelves. They ricocheted wildly around the room. Before they landed on the floor, the couple was already out of the library, heading down the hallway as fast as their feet would take them.

  Now on the floor laughing wildly, unable to contain his mirth, he could hear them pounding up the stairs, and then he heard the door to their bedroom slam shut. Forcing himself to regain composure, he picked himself up off the floor and moved toward the window, preparing to make his exit. He couldn’t stick around, Walt Marlow was bound to show up at any moment to see what the commotion had been about, and he wasn’t sure he could prevent Marlow from seeing him.

  When Danielle returned to Marlow House late Wednesday afternoon, Lily was still gone, her car was not parked in the driveway, nor was it across the street at Ian’s. Danielle didn’t see the Spicers’ car, but the Hortons’ was parked in front of the house.

  Entering through the kitchen door, she found Walt sitting at the table, waiting for her. “You’ve been gone a long time,” he greeted her.

  Danielle closed the door and tossed her purse on the counter. “I stopped at the police station after I left Marie’s. I wanted to see if there was any news on the safe deposit box.”

  “And?” Walt asked as he watched Danielle wash her hands at the sink.

  “Nothing.” Danielle wiped her hands dry on a kitchen towel and then went to the refrigerator and pulled out a carton of milk. “So anything exciting going on?”

  “Not unless you consider reading exciting.”

  “I see the Spicers are gone.”

  “They left a couple hours ago. I heard them say something about looking for a restaurant.”

  “And the Hortons?” Danielle poured herself a glass of milk and then returned the carton to the refrigerator. Before joining Walt at the table, she grabbed several chocolate drop cookies from the cookie jar and set them on a napkin.

  “They’re upstairs in their room. Noisy couple.”

  “How so?” Danielle dipped one of her cookies in the glass of milk and then took a bite.

  “Clomping up and down the stairs and then slamming their door.” He shook his head.

  Danielle took another bite of her cookie and then asked, “Where’s Max? He usually greets me when I get home.”

  Walt shrugged. “I assume he’s outside roaming around.”

  “I hope not. It looks like it’s going to rain.”

  “Max isn’t fond of the rain, so he’s probably sleeping in some corner of the house,” Walt suggested. “So tell me about your visit with Marie.”

  Danielle opened the door to her bedroom thirty minutes later and found Max lounging on her bed, awake, delicately grooming his front paws.

  “How did you get locked in here?” Danielle said when she walked into the room. Max stood up on the bed, stretched and then sauntered in her direction.

  Just as Danielle picked Max up off the mattress, a voice came from the open doorway.

  “Thank goodness you’re home!” Nola said in a rush as she entered the bedroom uninvited.

  Holding a purring Max in her arms, Danielle turned to the woman. “What happened?”

  Slightly out of breath, Nola quickly told Danielle about the experience in the library.

  Danielle’s eyes widened. “The books…they flew off the shelves?”

  “Not all of them, but at least a dozen! They were flying around the room like something out of a Disney movie?”

  “Disney?”

  “Well, I prefer to think Disney as opposed to Stephen King,” Nola said with a giggle. She then said, her eyes wide and excited, “I think your house really is haunted!”

  “Umm…haunted?”

  Max began to squirm in Danielle’s arms. Leaning down, she released the cat, who promptly strolled from the room into the hallway.

  “That is the only explanation!”

  “You don’t seem too upset about that possibility?” Danielle said in an uneasy voice.

  “I will admit, it scared the bejesus out of Albert and me when those books took flight. But once we calmed down…well, I’ve always wanted to stay in a haunted house!”

  “You have?”

  “Did you know it was haunted?” Nola asked with a whisper, glancing over her shoulder as if she expected some spirit to jump out of the woodwork and shout boo!

  “Umm…perhaps some
strange things happen from time to time…but haunted?”

  “My only question, whose ghost is it?” Nola asked excitedly. “Walt Marlow or the fellow who was killed in your parlor, or maybe that writer who died upstairs. What bedroom did she die in, by the way? Are we staying in it?”

  After Danielle left Nola, she went downstairs to look in the library. Instead of picking up the books littering the floor, she went in search of Walt. She found him in the parlor, watching television. The television turned off just as she opened the door.

  “What did you do?” she asked as she entered the room, closing the door behind her.

  “I would have turned the television off sooner if it had been your noisy houseguests. Trust me, I would have heard them,” Walt said with a sigh. He waved his hand for a lit cigar.

  “I’m not talking about the television,” she said impatiently. “You know exactly what I meant!”

  Walt frowned. “Are you upset with me?”

  Danielle rolled her eyes and let out an impatient sigh.

  “You know I hate when you roll your eyes like that. Very unladylike,” Walt admonished.

  Glaring at him, she crooked her finger in his direction, beckoning him to follow her. With a shrug, he stood up and did as she wanted.

  A moment later, they stood together in the library.

  “Who in the hell threw my books on the floor!” Walt shouted angrily.

  Startled at his outburst, Danielle looked at Walt. He seemed genuinely irate. Stomping to one book, he swiped it up off the floor and waved it angrily at Danielle. “This is a signed first edition! Do you have any idea what I paid for this?”

  With wide eyes, Danielle asked, “Are you saying you didn’t throw those books on the floor?”

  Twenty

  Everyone was still sleeping when Lily slipped downstairs Thursday morning to put the coffee on. Alone in the kitchen, wearing her robe over her pajama bottoms and T-shirt, she stumbled sleepily around the kitchen, searching for the coffee filters. They weren’t in their normal place. Just as she headed for the pantry to look there, she noticed a sheet of paper under the kitchen table.