The Dublin Writers’ Museum was on the Northside, not far from the famous O’Connell Street. Frank and Joe crossed over the O’Connell Street Bridge, noting that there were more and more pedestrians as the last of the fog faded away and a faint sun rose higher in the sky.

At the end of O’Connell Street Upper, they found a small street called Parnell Square which led right to the museum. Joe pointed to a small sign. “There’s a cafe here.”

Frank gazed around. “Look down that way.” At the end of the street, a sign announced The Wax Museum and the Hugh Lane Municipal Gallery of Modern Art.

“I vote we visit the wax museum.”

Frank gestured to the Georgian building the Dublin Writers’ Museum was in. “We’re right here. Maybe someone can point out the Driscol Manor House for us.”

Joe nodded and they went in. A group of tourists were listening to a recorded commentary about Irish authors, first editions and had photographs of such literary men as James Joyce, Oscar Wilde, Samuel Beckett and George Bernard Shaw.

Joe nudged Frank. “Wonder if Callie’s any relation,” he said with a grin.

“Considering how famous he is, you may have to be nicer to her,” countered Frank as they headed upstairs.

Joe grunted as they wandered around the rooms with the other tourists. “Hmmm, well, maybe she’s no relation.” He started for the exit. “Let’s go see the wax museum.”

Once they were outside again, Frank followed his brother down the street to the building that housed the wax museum. As they entered and started the tour, Joe nudged him. “So...we can pitch in, join the crew of the show, claim we’re locals or something. That way we’d be there but not in front of the camera.”

Frank arched an eyebrow. “You think? The first time you speak, everyone will know we’re not locals.” He shook his head. “Joe, I think we should leave well enough alone. No one’s asked us to help anyway.”

Joe stopped right there beside a life-sized statue of Michael Collins. “What about the murder? What if the reason Driscol Manor is haunted is because what the legend says isn’t the truth? Don’t you want to know?”

Frank stared around the room, at other famous people immortalized in wax. He slowly shook his head. “Where in left field did that come from? Everyone is claiming this legend tells the right story.”

“Legends come from eye-witness accounts. And you and I both know that eye-witness accounts aren’t always completely accurate.” Joe sighed and looked around, no longer really seeing the statues. “You think the MacBannons would talk to us if we said we wanted to find out the truth?”

Frank thought about it for a moment and then shrugged. “Who knows, that just might be crazy enough to work.”

They left the wax museum and easily found Driscol Manor. Not only did it have a plaque set by the door announcing the name, there was a gray van parked out front.

Frank stopped his brother. “Whoa. If Kelly Mitchell’s in that van...”

“Oh bugger,” came a voice behind them.

Frank and Joe turned around to see Trey and Trevor staring at the van. After a long moment, Trey shifted his gaze to them. He narrowed his eyes. “You with them?”

Joe shook his head. “No. Not at all. It’s a ridiculous show.”

Trevor didn’t look too happy to see them either. “So...you’re wandering around our fair city and just happened to end up in front of our house. Maybe I should call Paddy.”

“Oh that’d be right smart, Trevor. Call the guarda out in front of them.” Trey flung a hand at the van. “That’ll bring attention, won’t it.”

“What if we made it stop,” Joe said.

Frank resisted the temptation to drag his brother back to the hotel. “Joe.”

“Made what stop?” Trevor studied them for a moment. He shook his head. “The haunting? It’s been goin’ on for over a hundred years. What makes you think you can stop it? You real-life ghost hunters or something?”

“Or something,” Frank muttered. He cleared his throat. “What if the haunting is occurring because the story of what happened is wrong?”

Trevor and Trey stared at them, then each twin grabbed one of the Hardy brothers’ arms. “Let’s go.”

Joe moved to pull free but Trey shook his head. “Inside. Now. We need to talk.”

The four of them ducked around the house and onto the wide steps that led to the back door. Trevor let go of Frank to open the door. “Come on.”

There was a loud squeal as the door swung inward. “Don’t do that, Trevor,” exclaimed a female voice. “Ye nearly gave me a heart attack.”

“Sorry, Mam.”

The red-haired woman from the restaurant stepped closer and frowned at Joe and Frank. “What now?”

Trey cleared his throat. “Mam, where’s the journal?”

The woman looked at her sons. “Why?”

“They think the legend has it wrong. That’s why they keep haunting the place. Mam...” Trevor took a deep breath. “Maybe they can help.”

She looked over at Frank and Joe. “And you are?”

“Frank Hardy and this is my brother Joe.”

“Darcy MacBannon.” She gave her sons another long look and left the kitchen. She came back a few moments later, holding an old dusty journal. “Have a sit-down now that ye’re here. Tea and biscuits?”

Joe shook his head. “No, thank you.”

Darcy sighed and handed him the journal reluctantly. “All the pages have been torn out. By who, we’ve no idea. We found it in the attic several weeks ago.”

Frank wondered what the significance of the journal was if all the pages had been torn out. Darcy opened the journal to the page right after the last torn-out page. “Tell me what you see.”

Joe studied the page and held it so Frank could see. There were old circular splotches that might have been tear drops. Where the splotches were there were faint ink stains. Looking closer, the brothers could make out several letters.

In the center of the page were the letters ‘o-t-h-e-r-d-a-u-g’; just below that were more letters: ‘l-l-k-i-l-l-m-e’.

Darcy sighed. “We think the first group of letters is either ‘other daughter’ or ‘another daughter’. The second...”

Frank swallowed hard. “Who exactly was Aiden Connelly?”

“Not much is known,” Trevor said. “According to Callum Driscol, older brother to Maureen, Aiden Connelly was good for nothing. A drifter or so his journal says.”

“Callum said Aiden wooed and charmed his sister until she would’ve agreed to anything. Before you know it, the Driscols were havin’ a wedding,” added Trey.

“But Callum made a stipulation. If anything were to happen to Maureen, Aiden wouldn’t inherit a brick or a penny if he didn’t have a male heir to show for it,” Darcy said.

She got to her feet and moved around the faded kitchen, getting glass mugs and cold cans of soda out of an old squat refrigerator. She set the mugs and sodas on the table. “Here you go.”

Joe smiled at her. “Thanks.” He opened the can and poured the bubbly soda into the glass.

Frank did the same but kept his eyes on the journal page. “So if Aiden had married only for the inheritance...”

“Maureen would have feared for her life if she had only daughters,” Darcy said, sitting back down at the old wooden table.

A dainty cup and saucer suddenly flew off one of the shelves and slammed into the open back door, shattering on impact. Darcy jumped to her feet. “Oh no.”

Joe looked over at Frank but his brother had been looking at the journal. Joe nudged his brother hard enough to make Frank look up. “What?”

Joe shook his head. “Paranormal activity and you’ve got your head in a book.”

Darcy looked rather upset as she slowly reached for a broom. “It was the last cup and saucer from Maureen’s set. It had been passed on to Callum and down to me.”

Trevor cleared his throat. “The last time that happened was when Trinity was a little girl and told us her imaginary friend had told her a secret.”

“Yeah, Trin was just a little thing and she blabbed the secret and one of those cups and saucers flew across the room, nearly hitting Trin in the head.”

Frank looked over at Trevor. “What was the secret?”

“Don’t you think you should tell ‘em who the imaginary friend was?” Trey said, a hint of sarcasm in his tone.

Trevor punched his twin brother in the shoulder. “Trin claimed her imaginary friend was Aishling. That was also the name of Maureen and Aiden’s youngest daughter, the one who died in the fire.”

“I thought both daughters died in the fire,” Joe said.

The MacBannons shared a guarded look. Trevor’s easy-going manner vanished and he looked angry. “You are with those camera-toting—” He broke off, muttering something that sounded like a curse word. “I’ll boot you to the road in about one bloody second.”

Frank held up his hands. “Wait. Joe, tell him.”

“Tell him what?”

Frank shook his head and looked at Darcy. “Everything that’s been happening seems to have led us here. Joe encountered a ghost in the Long Room at Trinity College, then we overhear an old man talk about the ghost at the Shelbourne where we meet Trinity. And then last night...we got lost and ended up at Mulligan’s. And we ran into John MacNair.”

Joe cleared his throat. “We don’t know it was a ghost at the college.”

Trevor and Trey shared another look. “So you knew...all this time. Is that why you were eavesdropping at the cafe?”

Joe got to his feet, slowly. “Frank, I think we’d better go.”

“I think you’re both going to stay right here while I call Paddy,” said Trevor, veering for an old rotary-style phone.

The back door swung open just then. “There the lot of you are. You know there’s a van parked...?” Trinity stared at Joe and Frank. “What are you two doing here?”

Joe swallowed hard. “Um...it’s a really very interesting story.”

Trey took a step forward, his green eyes hard. “And I think you’re going to tell it.”

But before he could say anything else, the back door slammed shut and the temperature in the kitchen went ice-cold...

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.