Frank ignored Joe as they strolled down Wicklow Street. They’d just left The International and were following a good-sized group on the music pub crawl.

“I know I spotted Bono. I know I did.”

“You kept trying to knock your chair over backwards, I know that. Mom and Dad are never going there again.”

“I did not embarrass them.”

“You didn’t let me finish. They’re never going there again...with you.”

“Oh hush.” Joe glanced over his shoulder as they walked along. “Hey, do you see an old lady back there?”

“Now you’re seeing silent movie stars or something?”

“Considering what she’s wearing, I don’t think she’s famous. At least not that way.”

Curious despite himself, Frank glanced back to see an older woman, almost a carbon copy of the sketch on the book Joe had borrowed for him. “I wonder...”

Joe frowned. “What?”

“Let’s drop back and talk to her.”

“Any particular reason?”

“Do I need one?”

Joe sighed. “Boy, are you grumpy. Too bad we didn’t see your favorite singer.”

Frank shot him a glare and stepped out of the flow of the group. Joe followed a moment later until they were waiting for the older lady to catch up to them. She spotted them and headed their way. Up close, her hair was more silver than white and she looked like she was in her late sixties.

Feeling rather foolish, Frank stuck out a hand. “Mary Flaherty, I’m Frank Hardy.”

The woman snatched his hand and studied his palm. “I sense no special abilities within you, beyond your powers of deduction. I am Mary Flaherty.”

Joe nudged his brother. “Well, at least that proves that no matter what you’ve said over the years, you’re not psychic.”

Frank grunted. “It was good enough that you believed it when you were younger.”

“I had a dream last night that two young men were wanting to see me. Strong men, hearty and hale.”

Frank and Joe shared a startled look. Joe cleared his throat. “Our last name is Hardy.”

Mary Flaherty didn’t look a bit surprised. “Come with me.”

Frank held back. “Where?”

“We must talk. You wish answers and I have some.”

Joe nodded. “Lead the way.”

The woman ducked into a dim pub named The Bailey on Duke Street just off of Grafton. She avoided the crowded bar and headed for an empty table. Joe and Frank followed her and sat down at the table. She settled in a chair and cleared her throat. “What do you know of what you’re intruding on?”

Frank took a deep breath. “Only what Mrs. MacBannon has told us.”

“I didn’t think we were intruding,” Joe said. “I thought we were helping.”

“Intruding, helping, same thing, different circumstances.” The woman waved a hand. “Look, there is more than even she knows. You knew that or you would not have wished to find me.”

Joe rested his elbows on the table. “You really dreamed about us?”

“I dream every night. But the front desk clerk’s mother is a friend of mine.”

Frank didn’t quite laugh. “Okay, so what is it you know that Mrs. MacBannon doesn’t know?”

“Maureen wrote more than journals. She was a gifted author in her own right. She’d written a wonderful novel of ancient Ireland and had secretly approached a small publishing house to market her book.”

Joe frowned, not sure where this was going. “Secretly? You mean Aiden didn’t know?”

“No one knew. Not even the poor girl’s brother. The book has never been published, never even seen the light of day. If anyone were to get their hands on that book, they would be wealthy. All things Ireland has an appeal to the world right now. There are many collectors of Ireland – linen, tweed, pottery, crystal. Maureen Driscol would have had a following as much as Shaw or Yeats or Wilde.”

Frank took a moment to think about it. “So you’re saying that if someone found that book, they’d be well off? By selling it? But how would anyone know about it?”

The woman bobbed her head. “Aye, that’d be the question, now wouldn’t it. Who would’ve known?” She stared off into the middle distance. “What if I told you that Maureen Driscol had her own connection to Erin Gallagher?”

Frank leaned forward. “What?”

“She was the daughter of the publisher who’d actually read Maureen’s book.”

Startled, Joe looked up at the newcomer. John MacNair sat down in the one seat left at the table. Frank studied the man for a moment. “For someone who didn’t know his ancestress was Erin Gallagher, how did you know that?”

John gave Frank a wide grin. “Pretty good, wasn’t I? Convinced the great Fenton Hardy, I never knew my family connections.”

Joe went cold. “Why did you set up the TV show gig?”

“I figured one of the people they had exploring the house would get lucky and find the book. Or even better, that I’d get lucky. Maybe even claim my late wife actually wrote the book and be set for life.”

“You were gambling on risky odds,” Mary Flaherty snapped. “You still are.”

John barely acknowledged her. “I can’t have you interfering with my plans, so I think we’ll just take a nice little walk away from here.”

“That was your plan?” Joe asked. “Ever heard of ‘finders keepers’?”

John sighed. “You think I didn’t have everything accounted for? By signing a contract for the episode, I forced Darcy into this. She’s not going to want things belonging to Aiden Connelly or Erin Gallagher. It’d be easy enough to claim whatever’s found as such.”

“Like she would let it go without a fight. You’re seven kinds of a fool, John MacNair.”

John finally looked over at her. “Quiet, witch. Now you three will walk out of here and join me in a little trip to Mary Flaherty’s small cottage.”

Joe tensed up. “And if we don’t?”

John slipped something small out of his pocket. It took Frank a moment to realize it was a small gun. John nodded as he saw Frank recognize it. “Small, compact but it shoots .38 caliber and at close range it won’t be pretty. Now we’ll go.”

The four of them got up from the table and left the pub. John nudged Mary Flaherty. “I suggest you lead us home.”

“I’ll not have the likes of you in my home, John MacNair.”

“I think you will.”

Frank ducked and slammed into John at the knees, knocking him backwards. John’s gun arm jerked and the weapon went off. John banged his head against the side of the pub and he slumped to the ground.

There were several screams as Frank got to his feet. He spun around to see Mary kneeling beside someone. He went cold when he realized it was Joe. “Joe!” He hurried to Joe’s side and found him with his eyes closed. “Joe?”

“He hit his head on the cobbles,” Mary said, gently. “I’ll get someone to summon the ambulance.” She made it to her feet and hurried off.

Frank nodded absently. He checked for any blood but only found a small lump on the side of Joe’s head as if someone had hit him.

Joe groaned just as two shadows fell over them.

“Bugger, what the bloody hell happened?”

Frank looked up to see Trevor and Trey. “Your uncle.”

Trey looked over and scowled. “Maybe we’ll get to play in that bog after all, brother.”

“I’m with you there.”

Joe groaned again just as two-tone sirens filled the air and soon a white police vehicle and an ambulance arrived at the scene. A Garda took charge of John MacNair while two medics took care of Joe. Joe tried to sit up but Frank shook his head. “Joe, stop. Let them make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m fine. Nice old lady Flaherty clocked me upside the head with her purse. Why she carries a brick in her purse I don’t know.”

Frank frowned. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Except for a headache.” Joe made it to his feet and groaned again.

Trevor MacBannon sighed. “Never thought things could get so out of hand.”

“You say that about my practical jokes all the time.”

“That’s why you’re always in trouble.”

Joe looked around. “Where’d she go anyway?”

Trevor shrugged. “So you’ve met old lady Flaherty. She’s a hoot, isn’t she. What’s going on?”

Joe sighed. “I think we need to share this with my dad too. Let’s go over to the Trinity Capital.”

*****

“That was thoroughly enjoyable,” Laura said as they entered the lobby of the Trinity Capital. “This was a blast, Fenton.”

“Yes, it was.” Fenton started for the stairs when he heard familiar voices behind him. “Boys, how did—?”

Laura turned around and gasped. “Oh no, what happened?”

Frank looked down at his clothes and then over at his brother. “Um, we’re fine, Mom.”

“You certainly don’t look fine,” Laura said.

“Just a little something volatile that backfired, ma’am,” Trevor said as he walked into the lobby, his twin brother right behind him. “There’s this second-hand shop we frequent that has all sorts of things to mess with.”

Laura went pale. “Something volatile?”

Trevor glanced back at Trey. “That’s the first time I’ve seen someone else do that. I thought it was just Mam who had that reaction.”

Trey rolled his eyes. “You just had to go and say ‘volatile’, didn’t you? Daft as ever, I say.”

“Oh bugger, you just like pretending you’re the oldest.”

“I am the oldest.”

Fenton cleared his throat. “Why don’t you tell me what really happened.”

Trevor nudged Frank. “You’re right. He is good.”

Frank just shook his head and sighed.

Let the author know what you think of this story

email your positive feedback to hdafeedback@yahoo.com

Home Library Authors Rogue's Gallery Vehicles Chums Message Board Rap Sheet Links Contact

Disclaimer

The Hardy Boys belong to Simon and Schuster and the Stratemeyer Foundation. The Hardy Boys Fan Fiction authors of the Hardy Detective Agency have just borrowed them for an adventure or two. The authors promise to put the boys back when they are done with them. The authors do claim copyright to the original characters in this story. Please do not borrow original characters without express permission of the authors.