The next morning dawned cool and foggy. Wisps of fog swirled around the windows of their room, muffling the roar of traffic. Frank stood at the window but could see hardly anything. He heard noises behind him and turned to see Joe sitting up in bed. “Hey, I don’t think we’ll be doing anything this morning. At least not until this fog burns off.”

Joe fell back against his pillows and sighed. “Fine with me.” He rolled over on his side. “So why are you standing at the window, staring at fog?”

Frank moved away from the window and sat down on his bed. “There’s no such thing as coincidence. You said something happened at the college, then we encounter Miss Mitchell, a few minutes later we meet Trinity and last night we talked with her uncle who’s the connector between Trinity and Miss Mitchell. You know the old saying, third time’s the charm.”

Joe sat up, grinning. “I knew it.”

“I don’t want to fill those two spots on the show. But if we could just visit the house, see if what John was talking about was real...”

Joe’s grin faded. “I don’t think Trinity would be too happy with that. Surely there’s a library around here, like our local library at home. One with internet access, right?”

Frank nodded. “I’ll call down to the front desk and ask. Maybe we can go there and research the story.” He was reaching for the phone when someone knocked on the door. Frank handed the phone to Joe and got up to answer the door. “Oh, good morning, Mom.”

“Hello, boys, sleep all right?”

Joe nodded. “I could go back to sleep if someone else hadn’t woke me up.”

Laura smiled and rolled her eyes at her youngest son. “I’m going to Powerscourt Townhouse to shop. Your father and I have already had breakfast.”

Frank raised an eyebrow. “So we’re on our own again?”

Laura nodded. “Unless you two want to come shopping with me.”

“Uh, no thanks, Mom,” said Joe rather quickly. “We’ll find something to occupy our time.”

“All right. See you boys later.”

“Bye, Mom,” said Frank.

Laura headed down the hallway and Frank pushed the door closed. He turned to Joe. “Shame on you.”

“Well, we will find something to occupy our time.” Joe handed the phone back to Frank. “You call.”

Frank watched his brother pull the covers over his head and sighed. Some things never changed.

*****

The desk clerk gave them the address of the public library as well as two internet chat cafes around Dublin. The fog had burned off for the most part and a faint sun shone down. Since the internet cafe was closer, in the popular Temple Bar area, the brothers headed there first.

“We’re going to eat first, right,” said Joe, pointing at a sign for Cafe Vivialdi.

Frank looked at the sign and frowned. “For breakfast?”

“Thought you were willing to try anything once.”

“That was when I was trying every flavor of Kool-Aid.”

“Whatever.”

They went into the old building with its stained glass windows. Frank was surprised to find that the cafe did serve a delicious breakfast and for a reasonable price. After they ate, Joe led the way to the internet cafe. “So what do we start with? Legends, ghosts, hauntings?”

“I’m going to see if the name Driscol rings any bells first.” Frank paid to use a computer and they sat down at the small table. He typed for a few moments and glanced at the screen. “Hmm...”

“Seems a very common name,” mused Joe, not quite teasing his brother.

“You be quiet.” He typed for a few more minutes. “There.”

The story that John told them was posted on a web site devoted to a haunted Ireland. Frank pointed at the screen. “Apparently, the spirits reenact the entire event every August 30^th because that was the night it happened in 1861.”

Joe leaned closer. “Who’s this Erin Gallagher? She seems to the only mourner at Connelly’s funeral.”

Before Frank could respond, a low voice from behind them let out a soft curse. “I swear. If he wasn’t so nice, I’d tie him to an oak tree and let the Good People have at him.”

“Shh, that will earn you trouble. We had enough trouble last year.”

“Fools, the lot of them, wanting a tour of the house. That’s where he got the idea, I’ll bet. And now we can’t tell them no.”

Both voices were male and before either Joe or Frank turned around, they had a good guess as to who the speakers were. Frank saw the two young men crouched over another computer. They were the same guys who’d been with Trinity last night.

The one standing bopped his brother on the shoulder. “It was your idea to have a séance.”

“Hey, it spooked Trin right enough.”

“True.” The guy grinned, looking almost devilish in the glow of the computer. “What say we pull a stunt or two during the show? Freak everyone out.”

The one sitting at the computer nodded slowly. “We’ll need lots of dry ice...O’Malley can get us that. Hmmm...still have those wires from last year?”

“What’d you think I did, toss it out with the rubbish?”

Joe looked over at Frank and grinned. “Sounds like fun.”

Frank shook his head, sensing that Joe was going to do something stupid. “Joe—” His brother just stood up and walked over to the other computer table.

“Hi.”

Both guys looked over at him, and then one standing surveyed the nearly empty cafe. He bopped his brother on the shoulder again. “You don’t know how to keep a secret to save your life.”

“Stop doing that. And if I was talking loud, you were worse.”

“Me?” The guy’s Irish lilt grew more pronounced. “You’ve been saying that since I was old enough to walk.”

“Trevor MacBannon. The daft one here is Trey,” said the guy seated at the computer.

“Oh, now I’m daft, am I?”

Joe shook the guy’s outstretched hand. “Joe Hardy. That’s Frank, my brother at the computer over there.”

Trey frowned. “Didn’t we see you at Jacob’s Ladder last night?” He glanced over Joe’s shoulder at Frank. “Scoping our sister?”

“Trin can fight her own battles, Trey.” Trevor’s blue eyes twinkled. “Or not.”

Joe pulled up a chair. “I couldn’t help but overhear. Are you planning a prank?”

Trey snorted. “Only a well-deserved one.” He immediately told the tale of the ne’er-do-well uncle who set up a television show in their house. “Well, we’ll take care of it. A few cold breezes, a spot of fog wisping through the air and everyone will be out and running.”

Joe glanced at Frank and motioned him to come over. Frank rolled his eyes but shut down his computer and joined them. Joe turned back to the twins. “So...need any help?”

Trevor thought about it for a moment. “Da’s already unhappy with the television crew camping out. We bring in new people and well...it won’t be pretty.”

Trey sighed. “Nice of you to offer though.” He cocked his head to one side. “Any idea on how to make an uncle disappear?”

“Bury him alive in a bog?” Joe asked, remembering what Trinity had said the day before.

“Not a bad idea. Sure and which of the bogs would do, Trevor?”

“Oh no, you’re not goin’ that route again, brother. Not after the banshee wailed around the house for a bloody week.”

“That was not a banshee. Sure, that was old lady Flaherty with her predictions again.” Trey nodded to Frank and Joe. “Thinks she’s the reincarnation of Biddy Early, she does.”

Frank told himself not to ask. He just knew he was going to regret it. “Biddy Early?”

“Some say she was a witch,” Trevor said, eying the computer screen again. “Might have been aligned with the Good People, no one’s too sure but the legends about her are everywhere. Lived over in County Clare, she did, around the turn of the last century. You can still run into someone whose ancestor had an encounter with her.”

Suddenly, Trevor hit the sides of the desk and shoved his chair back. “Bugger, I keep getting stonewalled.”

“Ouch, that bloody hurt. I think you crushed my shin,” Trey said, hopping back on one foot.

“Oh poor you. Your fault for standin’ behind me. You should know by now that you never know what I’m about to do.”

Trey grunted. “Now I’ll have to limp home.”

Frank cleared his throat and leaned close to Joe. “Sounds like you.”

Joe shot him a glare. “I don’t have an Irish accent.”

Trevor held out a hand. “Nice to have met you. Welcome to Ireland.”

Frank and then Joe shook his hand. Trey hopped right out of the internet cafe, sparing a half-hearted wave as he did so. Trevor shook his head. “Tis a bit rude, he is, my brother. Was raised in a barn half his life.”

“So were you, mind you,” Trey shouted back.

Trevor grinned and left. Joe watched him go and sighed. “Well, that was interesting.”

Frank chuckled. “You could say that again.”

“Well, that—”

Frank clamped a hand over his brother’s mouth. “Never mind. Let’s go.”

Joe slapped his brother’s hand away. “You know, I think it’s time to visit the Dublin Writers’ Museum, pick up a souvenir for Mom. Maybe a little information too.”

Frank remembered Kelly Mitchell had mentioned the house was close to the museum. He sighed and realized it would take much more effort to dissuade his brother. “You never give up, do you?”

Joe grinned. “Never, big brother. Never.”

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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.