The Ghost and the Leprechaun

by Anna J. McIntyre

  “Maybe she figured she could give even more money away. Maybe she has some sort of Robin Hood complex.”

  Brian laughed and took a seat at the table. “That’s an interesting theory.” He took a sip of his coffee.

  Wilson sat down across from Brian. “Don’t you think there is something a little…different about Danielle Boatman?”

  Slowly lifting his cup to his mouth again, Brian took a sip, his eyes never leaving Wilson. He then lowered the cup just as slowly and asked, “Different, how?”

  Wilson shrugged. “There is just something a little…off about her. Not normal.”

  With a grunt Brian said, “You’re telling me.”

  Wilson perked up. “So you see it too?”

  “Maybe Danielle just takes a little getting used to. Even her house is different.”

  “Her house? What do you know about her house?” Wilson asked excitedly.

  “Never mind, hard to explain,” Brian muttered.

  “No, I want to know. What exactly have you noticed?”

  Brian studied Wilson for a moment and then smiled. “Something happened to you when you were there, didn’t it?”

  “What do you mean?” Wilson asked defensively.

  Brian set the cup on the tabletop. “Well, let’s see, once when I was there, I could swear someone slugged me. But there was no one there.”

  “What do you mean slugged you?”

  “I think you know what I mean. It’s like the place is…haunted.”

  Wilson stood up. “Now you’re just being ridiculous.”

  “Hey, you’re the one who brought it up.”

  Special Agent Thomas walked into the lunchroom, interrupting their conversation. “I had to let Mitchell go.” Thomas eyed Brian’s coffee. “Hey, do you mind if I pour myself a cup of that?”

  “Sure, no problem, help yourself.” Coffee cup in hand, Brian motioned to the coffee pot sitting on the counter.

  “I’m assuming she stuck to her story?” Wilson asked.

  “Didn’t budge. I was getting nowhere with her quick. Unless we can find something to tie her to Boatman, like a transfer of funds, or if someone else comes forward with some additional information, I don’t see her folding. She was tougher than I thought she’d be.”

  “She probably knows we really don’t have anything on Boatman unless we get her to flip. And if she flips, it might keep us from filing charges against her, but she’ll still lose her job. I say it’s too soon in the game for her to fold,” Wilson suggested.

  “Of course, there could be another possibility,” Brian suggested.

  Both Thomas and Wilson looked at him.

  “What’s that?” Thomas asked.

  “Danielle and Susan are innocent. I don’t believe they’re involved in some scam. Those gold coins were in that safe deposit box just like they said, and you two are looking in the wrong direction. Someone moved it, but it wasn’t them.”

  “And just who was it? A ghost?” Wilson sneered.

  Brian smiled. “Maybe.”

  Thirty-Four

  Walt anxiously paced the attic floor, stopping periodically to pause by the window to look outside. He kept hoping to see either Lily or Danielle drive up. Lily had barged into the attic earlier, looking for him. She had said something about Joe calling. She then rambled on about Danielle finding the gold and something about the FBI. None of it made sense. Since it was impossible for Lily to see or hear him, there was no way for him to ask her any questions. The only reason Lily knew he was in the attic when she burst in was because she asked him if he was there, and he responded by tilting the spotting scope up and down.

  Now standing by the window, Walt looked across the street at Ian’s house. Lily had also mentioned something about Ian being in Portland. He assumed Sadie had gone with him, as he normally left the dog at Marlow House instead of leaving him across the street alone.

  Walt spied Joanne’s car parked in front of the house. The last time he was downstairs, she was putting clean sheets on the bed the Hortons had used. New guests would be arriving tomorrow afternoon. He then noticed Max, who was sitting inside the gate, looking out at the street, his tail swishing back and forth.

  With a sigh, Walt resumed his pacing.

  “I’m taking off now,” Joanne called out from the doorway leading into the living room. She stood in the hallway. The guests she knew as Blake and Jeannie Spicer sat together on the living room sofa.

  Blake looked up toward the doorway and smiled at Joanne. “Have a nice afternoon.”

  “Thank you, you too.” Joanne paused a moment and glanced down the hallway, noting the sunshine pouring through the front window. She looked back into the living room. “You two should get outside, get some sunshine. It’s a beautiful day today.”

  Blake yawned and stretched before saying, “We will. But I’m just a little tired. I think I’ll go upstairs and take a nap.”

  Joanne smiled. “Well, it’s your vacation. Enjoy. If you get hungry, there’s a coconut cake under the cake pan in the kitchen. I don’t know where Lily ran off to, she left in a hurry, so I have no idea when she or Danielle will be back.”

  Jeannie made a show of stretching out her arms before letting one rest behind Blake’s shoulders. “We’ll be fine. Have a nice day.”

  Joanne flashed one parting smile and then hurried down the hallway. Blake and Jeannie silently looked at each other, listening. After they heard the front door close, Blake got up from the sofa and peered out the living room window.

  He watched as Joanne drove away. Still looking out the window, he said, “I thought she’d never leave!”

  “What are you going to do about the bedroom door if you still can’t open it?” Jeannie stood up from the sofa.

  “If I have to, I’ll break the door down,” Dave said.

  “Just as long as you can get into the safe.”

  “I don’t know what happened with the door earlier, but I’ll get in there. You just do what you need to.”

  “I already packed and wiped down our room, so I’ll finish down here and wipe down anything we might have touched, while you take care of the safe.”

  Blake gave her a nod and headed for the doorway. Jeannie remained standing in the middle of the room, hands on hips, surveying the area. After a moment of consideration, she made her way to the doorway and then to the downstairs bathroom, where she grabbed a hand towel. After dampening the towel with water, she wiped her prints off the bathroom faucet.

  Walt moved effortlessly from the attic to the first floor, bypassing the second floor. Once there, he found Jeannie Spicer rushing up and down the entry hallway, wiping down the switch plates and doorknobs.

  “We’re doing this again,” he said with a snigger. Walt turned to make his way to the library but then paused. He looked back to Jeannie and frowned and then glanced upstairs. “If you’re down here, what is he doing?” Walt murmured.

  A moment later Walt was on the second floor. There he found Blake sitting by Danielle’s bedroom door. Blake wore a pair of leather gloves, and in his hands he held a small tool.

  “That again?” Walt moved to Blake’s side “Okay, this time I’m going to let you in there so I can see what you’re up to.” Walt watched as Blake poked a thin tool into the lock on Danielle’s bedroom door and moved it to and fro.

  After a moment, Blake let out a celebratory shout and quickly stood up. He opened Danielle’s bedroom door and looked around. Instead of going into the room, Blake rushed to the stairwell and looked down. “Steph, I’m in!”

  Walt heard Jeannie…or was it Steph?…let out a shout from downstairs. He then heard her racing up the stairs, still holding the hand towel.

  “I wonder why we couldn’t open it before?” Jeannie asked when she reached the second floor.

  “Because I was holding it, you thief,” Walt grumbled.

  “I’ll go back downstairs and finish up. Let me know when you get it,” Jeannie said excitedly before turning abruptly and dashing downs
tairs.

  Walt eyed Blake. “Before you get what? Hmm…I think I know.”

  Walt followed Blake into Danielle’s room. Leaning back against the loveseat, arms folded across his chest, he watched as Blake removed the painting from the wall and set it on the bed. Blake then dashed from the room, and when he returned, he carried a small case. Setting the case on the bed next to the painting, he opened it, revealing a set of delicate tools.

  “A safe cracker? Is that what we have here?” Walt smirked. “I’m curious to see just how good you are. I think I’ll give you enough rope to hang yourself.” Walt cringed, his hand going to his own throat, remembering the rope that had killed him. Glancing up at the ceiling toward the attic, he mumbled, “Poor idiom choice.” Turning his attention back to Blake, he watched.

  Narrowing his eyes, Walt smiled. “I think I have an idea.”

  Leaving Blake with the safe, Walt moved downstairs. He found Jeannie going into the downstairs bathroom. He watched as she set the towel on the sink and then shut the bathroom door. Walt assumed to use the facilities.

  “This is convenient,” Walt murmured. “I don’t have to shove you in there to keep you out of the way. You made my job easier.” Focusing his energy on the door’s lock, he forced the mechanism inside to shift slightly from right to left until it jammed, which would make it impossible for Jeannie to open the door when she wanted to come out again. Smiling, Walt turned from the bathroom and headed back upstairs.

  When Walt returned to Danielle’s bedroom, Blake was just swinging the wall safe door open. Letting out an excited shout, the would-be jewel thief removed the velvet pouch. His hands trembled as he pulled out the antique necklace. Impulsively, he used his teeth to jerk off one of his gloves, letting it fall to the floor. Shifting the necklace from one hand to another, he dropped the pouch to the floor with the glove and then removed the second glove.

  Reverently, Blake fondled the diamonds and emeralds, holding the piece up over his head to allow the gems to capture the sunlight coming through the window.

  “You might as well enjoy it now; you won’t be enjoying it for long.” Walt spied a folded bath towel sitting on the sofa. “That might work,” Walt muttered.

  While Blake’s attention was focused on the necklace in his hands, he failed to notice the bath towel rise slowly off the sofa and float across the room. He was taken by surprise when it wrapped around his face and head, seemingly held tight from behind by an attacker.

  Blake screamed. He dropped the necklace and his hands went to the towel, desperately trying to wrench it from his face. From Blake’s perspective he was being attacked from behind, and whoever it was took him to the floor and jerked his arms behind his back, forcing his face, still wrapped in the towel, into the hard floor.

  “Get off me!” Blake shouted again and again.

  His muffled cries went unanswered. Someone was wrapping heavy tape around his wrists and then his ankles. What he hadn’t seen was the tape floating down from the attic as his head was being wrapped in the towel.

  For good measure, Walt located rope and used it to further secure Blake’s arms and legs. Walt had remembered Danielle telling him once how if a person knew what he or she was doing, it was possible to break out of duct tape. Walt didn’t want to give Blake that opportunity.

  Walt stood over his prisoner and watched him squirm on the floor, unable to see who or what had attacked him. With calm, Walt went over to Danielle’s desk and removed a blank sheet of paper from the drawer, along with a pen.

  The woman locked in the bathroom downstairs goes by the name Jeannie Spicer, but I believe her first name might actually be Stephanie. This man goes by the name Blake Spicer, but I suspect that is not his real name.

  He broke in to Danielle’s safe in an attempt to steal the Missing Thorndike.

  Please take them to jail.

  * * *

  Walt stood up and walked to Blake, setting the note next to his squirming body. Picking up the Missing Thorndike, he set it atop the note.

  Walt then returned to the desk and removed a second blank sheet of paper from the drawer. Sitting down again, he picked up the pen.

  The woman locked in this bathroom attempted to steal the Missing Thorndike. You will find her accomplice, along with the proof of their crime, upstairs in Danielle’s bedroom.

  Picking up the paper, Walt stood up, stepped over Blake, grabbed the roll of tape, and headed downstairs.

  “Dave? Dave! The door is stuck! Help me! I can’t get it open! Dave!”

  Standing in front of the powder room door, Walt smiled. Calmly, he taped the note on the outside of the door and then headed for the parlor.

  In the parlor, Walt looked at the phone. “This better work, or I’m going to have to figure out some way to get Max to come back into the house, and see if he can convince Heather to get down here.”

  Sitting down at the parlor desk, Walt dialed 911. Setting the receiver on the desk, he waited.

  “911, what is your emergency?”

  Brian barged into the chief’s office. MacDonald was there alone with Lily, while Danielle was in the interrogation room with Special Agent Thomas, Melony by her side.

  MacDonald looked up to Brian. “What is it?”

  “We just got a 911 call in. Whoever is on the line, they won’t say anything.”

  The chief frowned. “You know what to do.”

  “Chief,” Brian glanced to Lily and back to the chief, “the call is coming from Marlow House.”

  Lily jumped from her chair and immediately pulled out her cellphone and dialed a number. “Joanne, where are you? Are you okay?” Lily asked when the housekeeper answered the call. They spoke a few more words before Lily got off the phone. She looked from the chief to Brian.

  “Joanne isn’t at the house. The only ones there are two of our guests, Blake and Jeannie Spicer. Something must be wrong.”

  Brian gave Lily a nod and then dashed from the office.

  The chief turned to Lily. They looked at each other. “And Walt,” the chief said.

  “Yeah. I know.” Narrowing her eyes, Lily looked to the door where Brian had just dashed from.

  Thirty-Five

  “We’ve already gone over this,” Melony reminded him calmly.

  Sean Sullivan, who had been silently watching the exchange from the corner of the interrogation room, studied Melony, who wore slacks and a blouse, her blond hair secured atop her head in a bun.

  Danielle’s gaze darted over at Sean for a moment and then looked back at Melony, who was addressing Agent Thomas.

  “I’m just trying to understand how your client happened to come across those gold coins if she didn’t put them there.”

  “She already explained that—numerous times. And since they belong to her, I don’t see what the problem is.”

  “Considering she reported them missing and—”

  “I assume you have checked the coins for fingerprints? The container they were found in?” Melony asked.

  “Yes. There were other fingerprints found—as to be expected considering the number of people who’ve had access to those coins over the years. But your client’s fingerprints were also found on the coins.”

  “As you said, Agent Thomas, that is to be expected. My client is the victim here. And what exactly would be her motive? The coins were not insured, and the bank is not responsible.”

  “But she could have written them off on her taxes,” he reminded her.

  “Do you have copies of her current tax return? Has she attempted to write them off as a loss?”

  “You know I don’t—”

  “Exactly,” Melony snapped. “I believe your time would be better spent looking for whoever compromised the security of the bank’s safe deposit box, before another safe deposit holder is victimized.

  There was no way Lily was going to stay at the police station. Plus, she had a key to Marlow House and it seemed a little ridiculous to allow the local police to break the door down when answering
a 911 call at her home. However, she did agree to wait in her car until they told her it was okay to go in.

  Special Agent Wilson insisted on accompanying Joe and Brian on the call while Danielle—who was unaware of the 911 call—remained with Melony and Special Agent Thomas in the interrogation room. Also in the interrogation room was Sean Sullivan, yet that was something only Danielle knew, and Lily and the chief suspected.

  Wilson believed the 911 call might in some way be connected to Danielle and the coins. He felt it too much a coincidence considering the recent turn of events, and Wilson was not a big believer of coincidences.

  Lily drove her own car back to Marlow House. She parked behind the police car, which had arrived a few seconds before her. She had already given Joe the keys to the house. With the passenger window down, Lily anxiously waited. She watched as the three officers—Joe, Brian, and Wilson—stealthily made their way to the front door.

  So focused on watching the three make their way to the front door of Marlow House, she failed to notice the shady black figure approach her car. When it leapt unexpectedly through her open window from the sidewalk, she managed to stifle her scream, in spite of her now racing heart.

  “Max!” Lily scolded, a war drum now beating in her chest. The purring cat strolled across the empty passenger seat to Lily. “You scared the crap out of me!” Picking up Max, who was now nuzzling his head into her chest, she held him tightly while refocusing her attention on Marlow House.

  “I suppose it’s a good sign that you’re out here purring,” Lily muttered as she scratched under Max’s chin, her eyes focused on the front of Marlow House.

  Joe slipped the key Lily had given him into the doorknob while Brian and Wilson stood behind him, waiting. The three men remained quiet as Joe gently pushed the door open. The moment he did, they heard a woman’s muffled shouting from down the hallway.