Angela
A leprechaun.
A kidnapping by a leprechaun as St. Paddy’s sat upon the horizon?
In the years since she and Jackson had been working together since Adam Harrison had founded the Krewe, they had seen so many things.
Of course to the rational mind, a banshee shouldn’t exist. Except that a banshee was a ghost, a mourner who remained to help others, just as Deidre had said.
But once, Deidre had been mortal. But through all their years, they had never discovered that creatures of myths and legends existed.
Yes, they had dealt with would-be vampires, werewolves, and Rougarous.
But all had proven to be very human.
“Okay, Skye,” Angela said, “we need to know exactly what you saw.”
Skye nodded. Angela thought the young woman had gotten excellent at bringing her visions to the past to others in a verbal form, and her talent was truly an invaluable one.
“Colleen was excited. She wanted the house to be perfect for her grandfather when St. Paddy’s Day arrived.
Well, you’ve seen the house. But she heard something.
She wasn’t frightened, just curious so, she left the living room and headed into the kitchen, and I think she got just a glimpse of him . . .”
“The leprechaun?” Jackson asked.
“Someone pretending to be a leprechaun, I imagine,” Skye told them.
“And doing a darned good job of it. I believe that it was a man, but a man who stood no more than five-feet tall, if that. Dressed entirely in green, with a little elf’s—or leprechaun’s—cap upon his head.
Oh, headful of very red hair. But the person was strong and possibly carrying some kind of a knock-out drug.
And he had a big, black burlap bag that he shoved over her head. She fell into his arms.”
“And then?” Angela pressed.
“He dragged her to the back door. That’s where my vision ended,” Skye explained.
“So, naturally, the neighbors saw nothing,” Jackson said, shaking his head and walking toward the door and then pausing.
“Zach?”
“Gotcha,” Zach told him, heading to the door first and then pausing.
“Forensic folk already tested it; kidnapper wore gloves,” Angela told him.
“Green gloves,” Skye added dryly. “But Zach—”
“Yes, yes!” Zach touched the doorknob and held still for a moment, nodding. “He went out through here—”
“And then to the old carriage house and workhouse!” Deidre cried.
“And there’s . . . if I’m not mistaken .
. . I mean it hasn’t been used in a hundred years or more, but there used to be an old tunnel from the carriage house that led closer into the city, to one of the parks.
And they’ve been having several St. Paddy’s Day celebrations there.
So, if someone was pretending to be a leprechaun . . .”
“That would be the place to do it!” Jackson said. “Deidre, would you take Zach and Skye out to the carriage house, see if you can find the tunnel and find out if it’s navigable? Angela—”
“You and I will go and find out if there are any leprechauns at the park!” Angela agreed. “And if you can get through the tunnel and discover anything there, we’ll meet up in the park,” she told Zach and Skye.
“On it!” Skye told her.
She headed back to the parlor, Jackson just behind her. Of course, it was going to be difficult to explain to Sean Donegal that they were checking out a park for leprechauns.
Thankfully, Detective Conor Murphy had the man seated and calm.
Angela gave him an encouraging smile and told him, “Our coworkers are in the back, inspecting the grounds because we believe Colleen was taken out that way. We’re going to check out a few leads that suggest she might have been taken to an early observation of the holiday.
If it’s all right with Conor, sir, you’re welcome to stay here; and we’ll be reporting back with anything that we learn. ”
“With my granddaughter, I pray!” he said softly.
She nodded and glanced at Conor.
“We’re good here; we have the phones tapped if anyone does call in with a demand for a ransom,” Conor said.
He made his words hopeful, doing so to help Sean Donegal stay calm. But Angela knew he doubted that a ransom call was coming. This was a play at something else.
She and Jackson were almost at the door when she paused and looked back.
“Mr. Donegal, has anyone been hostile about you and your partner starting this company of yours? Someone who thought that you should have stayed in Ireland, perhaps?” she asked.
“We have, of course, been looking into Mr. Donegal’s business associates and beyond,” Conor told them. “I believe—”
“It was all in the reports, yes,” Angela said. “But there’s often a difference in attitude and what comes out in the written word.”
Sean Donegal frowned, lowering his head slightly, deep in thought.
“I’m not thinking of anyone specific—the company benefits those in both the states and Ireland and even beyond,” he said.
“My secretary, Elizabeth, pointed out just how much we’ll be offering to those around the world.
Communication is our key offering, and businesses of all kinds need the best communication possible. We supply amazing creators—”
“Creators?” Jackson asked.
“Social media,” Sean explained. “Right now, it’s ruling the world.
When you can find the best creators to really sell your product—any kind of a product—you’re made in the shade.
And I believe that at my age, I’ve surprised many people with my understanding of how to best use it on the world wide web.
We don’t make enemies. We do our best to make friends; because, of course, take a look—the bad stuff out there can bounce around at record speed as well.
We know how to counter what is purely mean and bitter with eloquence and amazing visuals. ”
“What is Elizabeth’s last name, sir?” Angela asked. “You mentioned her before.”
“Elizabeth Fitzgerald. If you think that she can help you, please call her! I know she would be more than happy to do so. I believe she’s taken a few hours’ rest, but our work number and her home number should be with all the paperwork that you’ve received.”
“Thank you!” Jackson told them.
They left the two and made their way to the car. Angela pulled out her phone.
“Good call; hopefully, we’ll know where we’re going,” Jackson said. “I imagine that there are a number of parks—”
“Got the address, in the GPS,” Angela assured him, looking at her phone and texting the address the banshee had surely given Zach so that he could text it to her and Jackson. “I had figured it had to be close; an unknown tunnel could only go so far.”
“True.”
“Ah, and get this!” Angela had pulled up the park on the web. “Start the wearing o’ the green with fun and games! Haunted houses, mini gold with leprechauns, pixies run amok!” she read. “But . . . why would someone kidnap Colleen to take her to a park?”
“I’m wondering about the leprechauns,” Jackson said.
“We’re going to go and play mini golf?” she asked.
“Let’s just get there. If this leprechaun spirited her through a tunnel to this park, there might just be a way to catch a leprechaun.”
“And Colleen Donegal would be our pot of gold!” Angela said softly.
“Can you try and call Elizabeth Fitzgerald, please,” Jackson said.
“Good idea. We can see if we can meet up with her,” Angela agreed. “And she just may know something that Sean Donegal doesn’t—or she might see someone who isn’t as nice a person out there than Sean thinks. She’s probably close to the man and may judge people with a harder resolve.”
“So true!” Jackson agreed.
But when Angela called the work number, she was told that Elizabeth was off. She’d been so consumed by what was happening, she needed a break.
When she tried Elizabeth’s personal number, she reached voicemail.
“Sorry,” Angela told Jackson. “I agree with you, though. We need to reach her.”
Her phone rang as she spoke and she answered it quickly. It was Elizabeth. The young woman asked if they could meet in the morning. She’d been joined by members of her family and didn’t want to leave them.
Of course. It was growing late. Darkness would start falling soon. And Angela imagined, the park they were at would truly come alive. The truck selling special “St. Paddy’s Day” drinks would start to do a booming business.
“We’ll meet her in the morning,” Angela said.
“All right; we need some time here anyway,” Jackson said. “With luck, Skye and Zach—and our banshee—will be along; and they may see who they need to see.”
They arrived at the park—a nice large one—and followed the directions through to the parking for the St. Patrick’s Day park event.
“Interesting that they do this for a month before the day!” Angela noted.
Jackson laughed. “Hey, Christmas events in parks open before we get to Thanksgiving all over the place. I think it’s cool that they have events—”
“That last forever?”
“That give people a chance to enjoy a holiday. And as you have taught me, the real St. Patrick truly loved people and wanted them to have the best lives possible. So—”
“I can’t let one lethal leprechaun ruin in all, right?” Angela asked.
“Exactly. The day is great with shamrocks and green everywhere and parties—but it honors a man who was simply good, no matter what one’s beliefs.”
They had parked the car. Angela looked out on the grounds. She could see the mini golf took up a large section of lawn to their left while straight ahead, a large—but temporary—structure advertised “The Haunted House. Brighid Banshee Welcomes You! Enter if you Dare!”
Strewn about the grounds were food and beverage trucks, and to their far right was a bounce house and little gym for smaller children.
Angela looked at Jackson, arching a brow.
“Leprechauns or banshees?” she asked.
“Leprechauns first, maybe? A quick round of golf?”
“And you think—”
“We’ll get a look at a few of the leprechauns,” he said. Then he paused. “No.”
“No?” Angela asked curiously.
“Banshees. Skye saw the past. And if it was someone dressed as a leprechaun—”
“That could have been for effect. After all, it appears that Sean Donegal is the one they want to hurt.”
“And we didn’t come far at all. As the crow flies—or as the mole digs, I guess, in this instance—a tunnel from the Donegal home here wouldn’t be quite a mile.