Although it was early, the lobby of the Merrion was full of booths selling everything from subscriptions to mystery magazines to distributors of tracking software. Fenton Hardy had left his hotel early to catch John MacNair before the day got too busy.

He found the man at his booth, getting ready for the day. “John MacNair.”

The man turned and adjusted his suit coat. “Fenton Hardy. Made it back to your hotel then?”

“Yes.” Fenton shook the man’s outstretched hand. “Thank you.”

John gestured to his gadgets. “Need anything?”

“Actually, I just wanted to talk to you about the story you told us the other night.”

The man looked puzzled. “It’s just another ghost story. Ireland’s full of them.”

Fenton nodded. “True. But you seemed to know this one well and you did say you had married into the family.”

A trace of suspicion crossed John’s face. “Yes, I did, didn’t I. So why are you so interested?”

“My sons met your niece and nephews and they were at the house yesterday when something very strange happened. The entire kitchen filled with smoke and the acrid smell of burning.”

John took a deep breath. “That’s never happened before. Any smoke smell was always in the old nursery. When the children were small, it was the playroom but only Trinity ever played in it.” He shook his head. “The haunting seems to get stronger the closer it gets to the night it happened.”

“And that was?”

“August 30^th—that’s tomorrow night.”

“So how do you know the story?” Fenton asked. “Did your wife tell you?”

John fiddled with one of his displays. “No. Colleen added to it but I’d heard the story all my life. It had been passed down from my mother’s family, all the way back to my great-great-great grandmother who lived in the 1860s.”

Fenton wasn’t sure why he had such a strong desire to ask. “You don’t know her name, do you?”

John looked over at him, even more puzzled. “Her name was Erin. My mother was named after her.”

“What was her maiden name?”

“I think it was Galloway or something that started with a ‘G’. I never could make out the handwriting. It’s in the old family Bible at home.”

“Gallagher, maybe?”

John went pale. “What?”

*****

Laura Hardy paused on the sidewalk and looked at the brick-faced Georgian house. A small plaque embedded in the wall announced it was Driscol Manor House. The front door was painted a brilliant vivid blue. “Quite a beautiful house.”

The door swung open and Darcy MacBannon stepped out. She frowned at Frank and Joe, then nodded to Laura. “Hello.”

Laura walked up the steps. “I’m Laura Hardy. I was wondering if I could help you figure this all out.”

Darcy sighed. “We’ve searched every inch of the house, we’ve tried everything...” Her voice trailed off and she pushed the door open wider. “But come in. Who knows, a fresh pair of eyes...”

Laura walked into the foyer and paused on the parquet floor. It was a beautiful old house, harking back to when Ireland had been a British colony. “It is a lovely house.”

“Thank you.” Darcy gestured to a room to their left, full of antique furniture and old paintings. “You can have a seat in the parlor. Have you had breakfast yet?”

Laura nodded. “We had something before we left our hotel but thank you.”

Darcy stood in the archway, looking unsettled. “We’ve endured this for as long as I can remember. It’s never really bothered us before, just a minor annoyance once a year but this year it’s gotten worse...”

“Mam, have you seen my pocketbook? I’m headed off...”

Trinity skidded to a halt and stared at Frank and Joe. “You came back?”

“We said we’d help,” Joe said. “This is our mom, Laura Hardy.”

Trinity stepped past her mother and shook Laura’s hand. “Cead mile failte.”

“Thank you.” Laura said. She noticed her sons looking at her and she shrugged. “I’ve done a bit of research on Ireland,” she added, smiling.

Trinity took a deep breath. “I honestly don’t know how you could help, Mrs. Hardy. Aishling kept me awake half the night, moaning and crying. She’s never done that before.”

“Aishling?”

“Aishling was the daughter who died in the fire set in the nursery,” Darcy said. “The other daughter, Aileen, survived but she was sickly her entire life.”

There was a clatter of footsteps on the stairs and suddenly Trinity’s brothers burst into view. “Mam, we have it. We know what to do to frighten off everyone,” Trey said, excitedly.

“What do ye mean ‘we’. It was all your idea, more’s the pity. Paddy’ll lock us up!”

Trey shot his brother a glare. “Paddy’ll probably be helping! Mam—“ He spotted Frank and Joe. “You’re back. Are you part Irish or just gluttons for punishment?”

Laura gave a nod. “As a matter of fact, my husband’s family does have their origins in Ireland.”

“Ha,” said Trevor, grinning. “I knew I liked you two for a reason.”

“Could have fooled me,” Joe muttered.

Frank nudged his brother hard. “Shh.”

Darcy took a deep breath. “The house has three stories, with the top floor for servants’ quarters. Now it’s mainly storage for old furniture and odds and ends.”

She gestured to the angled staircase. “There are seven bedrooms upstairs. The original master bedroom is kept closed off because that was where most of the haunting used to occur. James and I have another room and the children each have their own room.”

Laura studied the staircase thoughtfully. “Are you saying no one’s been in the original master bedroom since it happened?”

“No. My great-grandparents were in that room. According to my grandmother, she claimed an active haunting every August and they usually found an excuse to be abroad that month.” Darcy shrugged. “No one has been in that room for a good forty years, I’m sure.”

“We found the torn-up journal in the library.” Trinity pointed to a closed door across from the parlor. “Library’s there. Mam, I wish I could stay...”

“Go on with you now,” Darcy said, giving her daughter a hug. “We’ll be fine.”

Trinity nodded and was gone. Trey leaned against the archway. “So, you’re suggesting we search that room upstairs?”

“Might be a sight better than your crazy plan,” Trevor said.

“Now that sounds like me,” Joe said softly.

“Thought you didn’t have an Irish accent,” Frank countered just as softly.

Darcy shrugged. “It might be just the thing to do.” She started for the stairs.

Laura got to her feet and moved to go after her only to notice the four boys didn’t move. She arched an eyebrow at Frank and Joe and shifted her gaze to the stairs. “Coming?”

“In a minute, Mom,” Joe said.

She gave them a look and nodded. “All right.”

Joe waited until she and Darcy were out of sight. “What are you up to?”

Trevor shook his head. “Not ‘we’. I’m bein’ forced into this.”

“Ha, if that were true, ye’d still be in bed with the covers over your head,” Trey muttered. “Why don’t you go on and dig through musty drawers and dust-laden drapes,” he added, turning back to Frank and Joe.

Frank shook his head. “I’m not sure we should let you go off half-cocked. Especially if it is illegal.”

“Listen to him,” Trey said to his brother. “Let us go off half-cocked. What were ye plannin’ to do? Stop us?”

“It’s not illegal. We were just going to get a few things to rig the house.”

Trey bopped his brother on the shoulder. “Like I said, can’t keep a secret to save your life.”

“My life’ll not be the one to save, if you keep doin’ that.”

Frank took a deep breath. “Look, I know you think we’re intruding but we just want to help.”

Trey stared over Frank’s shoulder for a moment and sighed. “Look, we appreciate the thought but we’ve been dealin’ with this all our lives. I doubt you’ve got a haunted house to live in back over the ocean.”

“We spent the night in a haunted house. Frank freaked out in the kitchen when he encountered a cold spot,” Joe said helpfully.

Frank resisted the urge to smack his brother’s shoulder. “Joe!”

Trevor laughed and nudged Trey. “Hey, at least they’ve encountered a ghost. We’ve had some people act like we’re daft because we talk about haunted houses.”

“You are daft, make no bones about it,” Trey answered.

“Takes one to know one, then, doesn’t it.” Trevor grinned and headed out the door, Trey right behind him.

Joe sighed. “Guess we’d better head upstairs.”

“Yeah. Hopefully, we’ll find something.”

*****

“What’s wrong?” Fenton asked.

“Erin Gallagher...according to what Colleen had added to the tale, was the only one at Connelly’s wake.” John shook his head. “I can’t be related to her.”

“Why?”

John looked unsettled. He shook his head again. “I just can’t be. Colleen once said that Maureen’s brother, Callum, encountered Erin Gallagher once. She’d claimed to be Aiden’s widowed sister but Callum felt there was something more between them.”

Fenton raised an eyebrow. “Like maybe they weren’t related?”

John sat down hard on his stool, nearly knocking it over. “Oh dear.”

Fenton frowned. “What?”

“If she...if that was her...the story...” John looked almost sick to his stomach. “The legend is wrong, then...isn’t it...?”

The back leg of the stool snapped, sending John crashing to the floor. Fenton ran around the booth and knelt down beside the man. “John.”

John winced and took a breath. “I think I’m okay. Just the breath knocked out of me.”

Fenton helped him to his feet and then studied the broken stool. “Looks like someone snapped it in two.”

John swallowed hard. “Maybe someone did.”

Fenton looked over at him, startled. “You don’t think—?”

John nodded gravely. “Yes, I do.”

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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.