They’d run Eddie’s picture, but no one had called in to report seeing him. No one had met anyone named John Alden in the last few days.
Tomorrow, he decided, he would do legwork, checking on local hotels, motels, bed and breakfasts and more, hoping someone had seen or heard from a guest by that name. He would also check all the businesses near the O’Riley’s office to see if anyone had seen a stranger in the area during the relevant time frame. It seemed impossible that someone had gotten on the boat with Eddie without anyone having seen anything. Someone, somewhere, had to know something.
But the question remained: What had Eddie possessed or known that had led him to become a victim?
What?
Frustrated, Zach shut down his computer and headed out into the hallway. He heard voices coming from Bridey’s room, and he hesitated. It didn’t sound as if anything was wrong. In fact, he could hear a note of laughter in Bridey’s voice.
Heading in that direction, he saw that her door was open, so he paused and looked in.
Bridey was sitting in the loveseat by the window, Caer was at a little table, and Kat was lounging on the bed.
“Zach!” Kat leaped up and gave him a hug. “Come join us. Bridey is telling us stories about Ireland.”
“I’m sure Caer knows them all, but she’s being a dear and listening to an old woman’s ramblings,” Bridey told him. “But Zach is too serious a young man to pay heed to any of my tales.”
“Tales about what?” Zach asked.
“Leprechauns,” Kat told him.
“I have nothing in the world against leprechauns,” he said. Then he frowned and looked at Caer, asking a silent question. Where was Sean?
Kat answered the question he hadn’t voiced. “Dad’s physical therapist is here. He’s getting a massage, and then he’s going to do some light exercise.”
“It’s good for the heart to begin exercising as soon as possible,” Caer told him.
He sat down on the bed, and Kat plopped down next to him, ruffling his hair, just like any kid sister. Caer watched them, and he was surprised when a veil seemed to come over her eyes, and she looked away quickly, almost as if she felt she were intruding.
“The thing of it is,” Bridey explained, “as I was telling Kat, that folks have gotten all confused about the little people these days. They’ve made some awful films, depicting them as evil. Now, they are tricksters, I admit, and thrifty. They hide their treasure, but they only do that, you see, so Ireland herself can hold on to her riches. If you catch a leprechaun, he must be honest with you, but he knows the loopholes in the rules, and he’ll take advantage of them if he can.”
“Okay, I’m confused,” Zach told her. “If I catch a leprechaun, do I get to follow a rainbow to a pot of gold or not?”
“Perhaps. But it’s almost impossible for a man to catch a leprechaun. You see, he cannot escape if you remember to keep your gaze upon him, but the second you look away, well, then he escapes, and that is that.”
“What about banshees?” Kat asked, giggling.
“Ach,” Bridey said. “’Tisn’t laughing you should be. Banshees, well, they are the ghosts of death, don’t ye know? When you hear the wind howling like a scream, when the darkness and shadows are all around, then you know the banshee is comin’ and all need to take care.”
She spoke with such grave seriousness that even Zach was startled, and her words were greeted with a moment of silence.
But then Caer said, “Now, Bridey, wait a minute. ‘Banshee’ from the Gaelic bean sidhe, means ‘woman of the faerie mound.’” She looked at Zach and smiled, as if a little bit embarrassed to be so knowledgeable about the old legends. “It is traditional to keen at the death of a loved one, just as it’s traditional to rejoice—with a fair amount of drinking—at the life they lived. Some said the banshees were faerie women who had lost their own lives tragically when they were young, so they could join the keening for those who passed over.”
“Really?” Kat said. “I saw a movie with a banshee in it once. She was an ugly old hag.” She shuddered.
“Excuse me, but that’s just not true,” Caer said.