The Ghost and the Leprechaun (Haunting Danielle Book 12)

by Bobbi Holmes

  “Hey, you brought it up,” she reminded him, still fussing with her makeup.

  Dave sat down on the edge of the bed. “I know. But we need to keep our voices down. You don’t need to scream.”

  “I wasn’t screaming,” she snapped. “But you didn’t answer my question. Do you think it’s cursed?”

  “Why would you ask that?”

  Stephanie turned from the dresser and faced Dave. “Well, think about it. According to the stories, that actress died not long after someone stole its original diamonds and emeralds. And then that Marlow dude stole the necklace and he was murdered. And Danielle’s own cousin was murdered after she stole the necklace.”

  “Are you suggesting I could get murdered when I take it?”

  Stephanie shrugged. “I don’t know. But it does make one wonder.”

  “What are you doing in here on such a beautiful day?” Walt asked when he appeared in Danielle’s bedroom later that morning.

  She sat on her bed with the laptop on her knees. “I wanted some privacy.”

  “Should I leave?”

  Danielle looked up at Walt and smiled. “No. I meant from our guests.” She scooted over on the bed, silently extending an invitation for Walt to join her. In the next moment, they sat side by side on the bed, each leaning back on the pile of pillows at the headboard.

  “You couldn’t find privacy outside in the sunshine? I was just looking out my window and it truly is a magnificent day. I envy you the ability to go outside and feel the sunshine on your face.”

  “You’re sounding a bit like a romantic right now.”

  “Perhaps.” Walt kicked off his shoes. They disappeared before dropping to the mattress. “So what are you looking up?”

  “Remember that box from the DNA test?”

  “Of course. That was just yesterday. I find the science of DNA fascinating. I am constantly amazed at the strides taken in science since I died.”

  “You know how I told you I wanted to see if Brianna had taken a DNA test?”

  Walt nodded. “Yes.”

  “Yesterday, I didn’t get a chance to go online and try logging in using the email and password from the box.”

  “Our new guests did keep you occupied most of yesterday afternoon and evening.”

  “And when I finally got to bed, I was too exhausted, so I thought I’d do it today when I had a chance. And here I am.”

  “Ahh, you’re doing some sleuthing? Continue. I’m curious to see what you find out.”

  “Actually, I’m done. I was just about to put my laptop away and track you down so I could tell you what I found.” She closed her laptop.

  Walt glanced down at it. “Are you finished with your computer?”

  “Yes, why?”

  Instead of answering the question, the laptop lifted up from the bed and floated to the table next to the bedroom sofa.

  Danielle grinned. “Gee, thanks, Walt.”

  He shrugged. “No problem. So tell me, what did you find?”

  Danielle turned so she could look at Walt. “Melony was right. Brianna1234 was a password. I went to Ancestry.com and was able to log in to an account using the email address on that piece of paper.”

  “So your aunt had an account at this Ancestry dot com site?”

  “No. The account was registered to Clarence Renton. But the only family tree in the account was my aunt’s. The only people on her tree were Brianna and her mother.”

  “Really?”

  “It appears the test kit was ordered after Aunt Brianna was in the care home, already diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. In fact, from what I know about her illness, she was pretty out of it by then. According to the site, Aunt Brianna’s saliva was received at the lab the same week she died. So she never saw the results. But even if she had, she wouldn’t have understood them.”

  Walt frowned. “Why would Renton have her DNA tested?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “If we’re trying to figure out Renton’s motive for having Brianna’s DNA tested, perhaps we should first ask why do most people have their DNA tested?” Walt asked.

  “To build their family trees. To find family members.”

  “Perhaps that’s it.”

  Danielle frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “Remember when Renton was surprised you had a cousin? He thought you were her only family?”

  “Sure. But I don’t know what that has to do with anything. Cheryl and I were only related to Aunt Brianna by marriage. Even if we had our DNA tested and were in the data bank, it wouldn’t have showed up as possible family members in Aunt Brianna’s results.” Danielle paused a moment, and then added, “That’s not entirely true. If Renton had included Aunt Brianna’s husband on the tree, it could have led to Cheryl—and to me. But he already knew about me. So obviously, he was only concerned with blood relatives.”

  “I suspect Renton wanted to make sure there weren’t other family members who were going to suddenly appear and make a claim on the property. He obviously felt he could deal with one niece, but more than that—especially a blood relative—it would complicate his plans. Look at what he did with Cheryl when she showed up.”

  Danielle leaned back against the pillows and stared up to the ceiling. “It could possibly help him find some cousin or maybe a sibling.”

  “You’re suggesting Renton was looking for any children from her father—half siblings?”

  Danielle looked at Walt. “It’s entirely possible she had some. I would be surprised if she didn’t. Unfortunately, nothing showed up on her results that might lead to possible siblings.”

  “Does that mean she doesn’t have any?” Walt asked.

  “Not necessarily. Just means no one from that branch of the tree is currently in the data bank. It would have been kind of neat had the test results led to her father.” Danielle sighed and leaned back against the pillows.

  “Old Sullivan knew who the father was. I would bet on it,” Walt murmured.

  “That’s right, Sullivan. With all that’s been going on lately, I forgot about him.”

  Sixteen

  “I really don’t have time, Mother,” Joyce Pruitt insisted.

  Joyce’s mother, whom her children referred to as Gran, angrily smacked the side of her wheelchair with a cane. While she no longer used her cane to help her walk, she liked to keep it handy so she could give her chair a good whack should the occasion arise. This was one such occasion. “What do you mean you don’t have time? It will take you maybe ten minutes out of your busy day.”

  Joyce groaned. “I have two houses to clean today.”

  “And I want you to empty that safe deposit box today! If someone hasn’t already done it.”

  “I don’t think anyone wants your papers, Mother.”

  “What about my father’s iron bookends? He made those himself!”

  “No one wants those ugly things.”

  “How do you know what they want? And if you think they’re so worthless, then why pay to keep them in a safe deposit box?”

  “Because, Mother, that’s what you wanted.”

  “And now I want them here, with me.”

  “Fine,” Joyce said as she angrily snatched her purse from the coatrack.

  “Don’t you forget the key!” Gran shouted at Joyce, who was now heading to the door.

  “I already have it, Mother.”

  “I have to say, I haven’t opened so many safe deposit boxes in my entire time at the bank as I have in the last two days,” Susan whispered to Joyce as she watched her sign the ledger.

  Joyce handed Susan back her pen. “I bet, since that article came out in the paper on Monday.”

  “Yep.”

  “Has anything else been reported missing?” Joyce asked.

  “Well, if anyone had reported anything, I couldn’t say.” Susan glanced around the bank and then leaned closer to Joyce and whispered, “But since nothing else has been reported missing, I guess I can tell you that.” Both women giggled.
>
  “So just Danielle Boatman’s gold coins?” Joyce asked in a hushed voice as she followed Susan into the vault area.

  “Apparently.” Susan shrugged. “It’s a mystery for sure.”

  A moment later Joyce handed Susan her key. She watched as the other woman opened the safe deposit box. After handing Joyce the key back, Susan slid the box from the vault.

  With a grunt, Susan said, “Lord, this is heavy!”

  “It’s those stupid iron bookends.”

  “They weigh a ton,” Susan said as she handed Joyce the box. “Those must be some hefty bookends.”

  “They are.” Joyce frowned after Susan handed her the box. It felt much heavier than she remembered, but she said nothing.

  Joyce followed Susan to a private room, where she left her to sort through the safe deposit box alone. What Joyce didn’t realize, she was not alone. Standing next to her was what appeared to be a man wearing a green derby hat. However, Joyce could not see him any more than Lily could see Walt.

  “What a pain, Mother,” Joyce grumbled. “I hope you don’t expect me to put these things out on the bookshelf.”

  Flipping open the safe deposit box lid, Joyce let out a startled gasp when her eyes fixed on its contents. Instead of just her mother’s iron bookends and small stack of papers filling up a fourth of the container, gold coins packed the metal box, filling it to the rim. Joyce knew instantly they were the missing gold coins from Danielle Boatman’s safe deposit box. But how did they get in here? she wondered.

  Nervously looking over her shoulder to the entrance of the small room, she moved quickly and closed the door completely, securing her privacy. Returning to the box sitting on the table, her eyes widened as she gazed at the glittering coins—which from all accounts were valued at over a million dollars.

  Taking a deep breath, she dipped her hands into the unexpected treasure, scooping a handful of the coins from the box and then letting them slip through her fingers.

  She began to laugh and then asked the room, “Can you imagine if Mother had insisted I bring her today? She’d already be stuffing them in her purse. As if Mother needs any more money. Hell, she doesn’t spend a dime of what she already has.”

  She stared at the coins. “Danielle doesn’t really need this any more than Mother does. I don’t even think she cares it went missing. I bet she had it insured,” Joyce murmured.

  Removing one of the gold coins, she held it up to have a closer look. “And to think, if that guy hadn’t hidden this in the Hemming house, it would have been melted years ago.”

  Dropping the coin back in the box, she glanced behind her at the closed door. Susan would be returning soon. Joyce looked down at the large canvas bag. It was her bag she normally used for hauling groceries, and she kept it in her car. She had brought it in the bank with her, not because she felt she needed a bag to carry a few papers and the bookends, but she didn’t want anyone seeing her carrying the ugly things. She wondered, Will the canvas bag be sturdy enough to carry the coins? Can I fit them all in?

  Closing her eyes, Joyce thought about her mother, Agatha Pine. Since Joyce’s divorce, her mother had lived with her. After Joyce’s husband had taken off, Agatha had talked her into moving to Frederickport—Agatha’s home town. Agatha had moved from Frederickport after marrying Joyce’s father, and she had always wanted to move back.

  Joyce assumed the arrangement would provide her with child care while she sought work. She was also hoping her mother would help with the household expenses. She would need help, since her deadbeat husband had disappeared, never making one child support payment.

  The living arrangement had not worked out as Joyce originally imagined. Once Agatha moved in, she made it very clear she didn’t intend to do any of the cooking or cleaning.

  “I’ve cooked and cleaned all my life, and it’s time someone else did it for me,” Agatha had told her daughter.

  When asked to chip in and help pay some of the household expenses, Agatha had said, “Why should I do that? You’ll be getting all of my money soon enough. It’s not as if having me live with you is costing you extra.”

  Joyce’s children were all grown now and living on their own. The only time they visited was to placate Gran, who was adept at keeping her grandchildren in line, frequently reminding them all how easy it would be to write them out of the will should any of them step out of line or take their grandmother for granted.

  In their attempt to stay on the good side of their grandmother, Joyce’s children—three sons and a daughter—often neglected their mother. The house they had grown up in—which Joyce had slaved long hours to keep—was in dire need of repair, which she could not afford to do.

  Joyce had no savings. Any extra money had been spent helping her oldest three children attend college, and her youngest to get out of jail. Whenever she asked her mother for any assistance, it was always the same response: You will get my money soon enough.

  Opening her eyes, Joyce looked at the coins. She imagined herself simply disappearing. She could go to Europe. Joyce always dreamed of traveling abroad. Or perhaps Hawaii? All Joyce’s friends had been to Hawaii. The farthest Joyce had ever traveled was to Anaheim, California, when she had saved to take her children to Disneyland. Agatha had insisted on going along, yet it was Joyce who had paid for the entire vacation.

  Joyce imagined her mother would be okay. After all, her grandchildren would eagerly be waiting on the old woman hand and foot, especially now that Joyce was no longer in the will. And Joyce had no doubt her mother would quickly write her out of the will. But what would she care? She would have over a million dollars.

  Smiling, Joyce opened the canvas bag and quickly filled it with the gold coins. When she got to the bottom of the box, she found her mother’s papers and the iron bookends. Reluctantly, she added the bookends and papers to the bag. Joyce understood she couldn’t disappear right away. First, she needed to find out how to sell the coins. Perhaps she would sell them a little bit at a time, disposing of them at coin shops.

  He followed the woman out of the bank. No one paid any attention to her as she protectively clutched the large canvas bag to her chest. At one point, she almost dropped it when opening the trunk of her car. Had that happened, coins would have spilled out and rolled into the street, causing a spectacle. He managed to intervene, and she lost not a single coin as she put them in her car. She stood at the back of the vehicle for a moment, the trunk still open, and removed two iron objects from atop the coins, along with some papers. She set them next to the canvas bag on the floor of the car and then closed the trunk.

  After she got into the driver’s side of the vehicle, he sat on the passenger seat. Together they drove around town. After about thirty minutes, he thought, She has no idea where she’s going. She must be looking for somewhere to hide the gold.

  When she finally stopped, it was in the driveway in front of a residential house. He assumed it was her home and wondered why she left the gold in the back of her car. But when he followed her inside the house, it didn’t look as if anyone lived there. While there was furniture, it was covered in sheets, and in the kitchen, cabinets were torn up, as if under construction. He watched as she removed a key from a hook on the wall and then dashed out of the house and climbed into the car again. She backed out of the driveway and drove down the street.

  Not far from the house, she pulled over and parked the car. Turning off the ignition, she sat there a moment, seemingly contemplating her next move. He looked out the front windshield. They were not far from the beach. After a few minutes, she got out of the vehicle.

  He followed her as she removed the bag from the trunk of the car and then headed toward the ocean.

  “Please tell me you don’t plan to toss it in the sea,” he said. She didn’t hear him.

  He followed her down a winding path from the road, leading toward the ocean. Halfway down the path, he spied a row of six shacks along the edge of the beach. By their size, he doubted anyone lived in them, th
ey were too small. He imagined they were used for storage.

  When the woman reached the sixth shack, she set the canvas bag on the ground and removed a key from her pocket. It was the key she had taken from the house. She quickly unlocked the shack’s padlock and then picked up the canvas bag before entering the hut.

  He followed her inside the modest building. Sunlight spilled into the small window facing the ocean. In one corner was what appeared to be a trunk of sorts. It was bright red with a white lid. He watched as she removed the lid. The box was empty. But not for long. She dumped the coins into the red box, filling it. When the bag was empty, she looked inside, he assumed to make sure there were no coins left behind. Placing the lid back on the box, she stood there a while and stared at it.

  “I suppose this is as good a place as any,” he said. “At least until I find somewhere better to hide them.”

  Seventeen

  When Danielle opened her bedroom door, preparing to step out into the hallway, she practically ran into Nola Horton, who she found lingering just outside her doorway. Surprised at Danielle’s sudden appearance, the middle-aged woman let out a startled gasp.

  “Oh, you scared me!” Nola laughed nervously, her face reddening.

  “Were you looking for me?” Danielle asked, thinking the guest was preparing to knock on her door—or open it.

  “I-I was just having a look around the house. I hope you don’t mind.”

  Danielle smiled. “No, that’s fine. Marlow House has a lot of history.”

  “Are you on your way out?” Nola asked.

  “No, did you need something?”

  Nola stood in silence for a moment, as if trying to decide what to say. Finally, her eyes darted to the stairway leading to the attic. “Would it be okay if I had a look in the attic?” She lowered her voice and whispered, “I understand that’s where he was killed.”

  “I assume you’re speaking of Walt Marlow?”

  Nola’s eyes widened. “Are you saying he’s not the only one to have been killed in this house?”