"I counted thirty-one vehicles, Murph, and twenty-four of them had tha Confederate flag on them." Connor commented, as they pulled out of the parking lot of the Gray Rock Off Road Vehicle Park.

"Aye, I think there would be a direct correlation ta that bloody flag and tha size of their—um, tires, of course." Murph snickered. "Well, is tha Rover muddy enough?"

"Aye, she looks like she's had quite tha adventure, which she has. She did well, I thought. It was quite tha comfortable ride." Connor said approvingly, somewhat lovingly, Murph noticed.

"Do ya want ta drive again?" he asked, trying not to sound patronizing.

"Well, if yer tired."

"I believe am a wee bit." Murph said, attempting to stifle a laugh at his brother, who he knew had fallen head over heels in love with the vehicle.

"Looks like we're only about four hours out." Murph said, as they passed the statue of Vulcan high in the hills of Birmingham, Alabama.

"I got ta get some food, Murph. Maybe if I eat, I'll stop wantin' a fuckin' cig." Connor said. He was jumpy again and swerved across three lanes of traffic to an exit.

"Ye need ta put on more of tha patches, Connor."

Murph had found a patch that did not irritate his skin at an exit in northern Alabama and had stuck the entire box on himself. "Tha fuckin' gum doesn't cut it."

"Well, I'm not goin' ta fuckin' mummify meself in those fuckin' patches like ye did. I don't think it's healthy, Murph."

"Oh, and drivin' like a fuckin' maniac is?" Murph snorted.

"Ye think ye can do a better job?"

"I know I can."

"Well, fuck ye."

"Just get yer fuckin' food."

Connor pulled into a mini mart, fondly known to Murph as a Stop n' Rob, and the brothers entered. Murph felt a wave of nausea when he saw Connor approach the register with his arms laden with his intended purchases, items none of which he was certain Connor had ever ingested: slim jims, pork rinds, bean dip, beef jerky and fried pies.

"Will ye be havin' some Pepto Bismol with that? Creepin' Christ on a cracker, Connor, yer so worried about messin' up tha new car? What in bloody hell do ya think is goin' ta happen when ye eat that amalgamation of nastiness? I don't want ta clean yer cage in tha mornin'. Much less smell tha green cloud comin' out o'ye in about an hour." Murph laughed, as they took their place in line.

"Aren't ye just a barrel of monkeys, Murph. So what are ye gettin'?"

"Some cashews and some tobacco fer the pipe."

"Like hell yer buying tobacco!"

"Got ta have it for tha Leprechaun Hunter get up. After all, ye were tha one that picked out tha pipe as I recall." Murph grinned.

"No tobacco, Murph. Yer not fuckin' smokin'!"

"Well, then how am I supposed ta look authentic?" Murph simpered smugly at his brother, enjoying Connor's fury.

"I don't bloody care. Yer not fuckin' smokin' if I can't."

"Okay, Mr. Pouty Pants, get yer smelly food and we'll skip tha tobacco." Murph cackled.

"Bast—"

They heard a giggle behind them. A distinctly female giggle. They both turned around and saw a rather elegantly dressed woman, at least for a Stop n' Rob, Murph thought, in her long off-white cashmere coat, black trousers and, as his inner Leah told him, the true test was the shoes. She passed or so he thought. They looked like very fine leather and had low heels, which Leah had said were always classic. He figured she passed muster. Nice hair too. Healthy hair, natural blond, cut in a bob. Murph figured her for probably a little younger than they were. She looked like she was dressed for a good job and he figured that had to be her Porsche Cayenne out in the parking lot. Her big blue eyes became bigger when they turned around and her hand went over her mouth but Murph saw she was continuing to shake with laughter.

"Look, Mr. Pouty Pants, she's got a healthy snack of yogurt and mineral water." Murph chuckled, winking at her. At that she burst into laughter. Connor turned bright red and gave his brother an angry look.

"I used to smoke in college." She said to Connor. "Slim Jims aren't the answer. You don't look like the type to take up knitting like I did. You need a Rubik's cube."

"I hated those bloody things as a kid." Connor frowned. "Besides where am I goin' ta get one?"

"I've got some in my car. Put up your pork rinds too."

Murph held out his hand to her when Connor reluctantly stepped out of line to replace the items in their proper places. "I think ye just saved me life."

"Your nose hairs at least." She grinned, shaking his hand. "I'm Carol Beth."

"I'm Murphy."

They paid for their items and walked to Carol Beth's car, as Murph suspected, the Porsche Cayenne that matched the color of her coat. She was a district manager for a pharmaceutical company and just happened to have promotional Rubik's cubes stamped with the name of the latest company's release to distribute to her reps.

"Thanks fer—" Connor began, as something caught all of their eyes.

"That is not happening!" Carol Beth growled, reaching for her cell phone.

"Fuck that!" Murph grumbled.

What they all saw was a young woman, probably eighteen, walking off the property of the Stop n' Rob into an intersection only to be pulled back by a young man of the same age. Pulled violently. The guy then proceeded to begin shoving her toward his truck (one with very large tires, Murph would remember later), pushing her down and pulling her back up along the way.

"I'm calling the police."

Murph and Connor looked at each other, and Murph knew Connor was thinking the same thing he was: there was an easier way to handle this.

"We'll take care of it." Murph said to Carol Beth.

She looked from Murph to Connor and back again.

"Absolutely not. My granddaddy is Irish. The two of you nicotine-starved boys need to get in your car and get out of here. You'll wind up in jail. If anyone will handle this, I will." She said vehemently. "That piece of trash isn't going to get away with this."

She grabbed Murphy's arm as she placed the call to the police. Connor furtively pointed to her and Murph could not believe the word he mouthed to him: Leah.

"Oh, no. He's taking off. I've got to follow them. Have a good trip, guys. I heard you saying something about leprechauns. Enjoy that pot of gold." She said, pecking them both on the cheek before getting in her car and tearing off behind the truck.

"Fuck tha leprechaun, Connor. We have ta follow. She could get hurt. What if tha bloody cops don't show?" Murph said, as they ran to the Rover.

"I'm with ya, Murph. Jesus, crazy woman. Mixture of Leah and Ma rolled up in ta one."

Murph took the wheel as they tore out into traffic behind Carol Beth and the big black truck with its blacked out windows, Confederate flag, loud diesel engine and huge red letters that said, "If they ain't chokin', you ain't smokin'." And of course, a pair of those fucking Truck Nuts. Connor was reaching into the locked case for the guns and preparing them. Murph could see Carol Beth wildly gesticulating at what he could only guess what a built in cell phone in her car.

Then the fucking redneck piece of shit in his Nascar muscle shirt jumped out of the truck and started hopping around, looking very much like a male gorilla, Murph thought. Well, an undernourished one with absolutely no body hair and had been on a PCP binge. The guy was pointing at his chest with both his hands.

"No, it's typically tha back of tha head we go fer, ya piece of shite." Connor muttered. "Jesus, I hope she's okay."

They heard Carol Beth rev her engine and honk the horn.

"We'll make sure of it." Murph said.

"Aye." Connor said, his eyes narrow, the two 9 millimeters lying neatly across his lap.

They crossed some railroad tracks and that was where the real adventure began. The traffic let up. No cops still. And the guy in the truck stopped square in the road, got out and started running toward Carol Beth's car. Carol Beth made no pretense of stopping until he was a foot from her front bumper. He slammed his fists down on the hood, and Murphy saw her reach into her glove compartment.

"Oh, fuck. I bet she's pissed. That car costs almost one hundred thousand bucks. That's tha Turbo model." Connor said.

"Conn, what tha fuck did she just pull out of tha glove box?" Murph asked with a bit of dread.

"Oh, fuck." Connor grumbled. "And he's goin' over ta her window."

Murph pulled up next to Carol Beth's car, just as the guy got a load of what she had pulled out of the glove compartment.

Brake cleaner, Murph saw, looking at the container in her hand then at the guy writhing on the pavement screaming.

"Go check on her. I'll take care of him." She screamed at them, when Connor let the window down. Murph noticed her eyes widen. "And get rid of those guns. Just check on her and get out of here. The police will be here soon."

In the rear view mirror, he saw Carol Beth continue to spray the guy with brake cleaner. Murphy figured that bloke was going to be one blind piece of trailer trash after Carol Beth got through with him. She also apparently had located her tire iron. When they stepped out of the Rover, after Connor had secured the weapons in their case, which no cop would ever find, they could hear her yelling at the guy.

"You don't treat women like that!" she screamed over and over.

"Ye think she's goin' ta kill him?" Connor asked.

"Self defense?"

"Got ta stop her." Connor said. "Ye handle this. I'll go deal with that."

Murph heard the screaming stop soon and the clank of the tire iron on the pavement, as he tapped on the glass of the passenger's side window of the pickup truck. He was nearly knocked off his feet when the girl inside threw the door open and pounced on him hugging him and thanking him.

"It's not me ye need ta thank. It's that young lady back there." Murph said sadly, tossing a look over his shoulder to Carol Beth and Connor, who had taken Carol Beth in a tight embrace and was stroking her hair. That was nice to see, a woman in his brother's arms. He looked back to this girl.

She was maybe seventeen. "So tell me what happened here."

In a flurry of thickly accented words, she told him that she had come down from Sipsey to see Joe, whom he assumed was the now still yet loudly groaning piece of dogshit lying on the ground next to Carol Beth's vehicle. Murph saw the bruises starting to rise on her throat. He saw there was no neurological damage from her eye movement although she did have quite a shiner. And Joe just went crazy. He didn't like it when she talked to other people. So that was her boyfriend? She nodded. Did she have a way to get back home? She guessed she could call her mother. Her mom was pissed at her for coming to see Joe. Her mom said Joe was no good.

"Yer mother's right. Do ya think it's right fer a man ta hit a woman?" Murph asked, hearing the police sirens finally and knowing they could easily slip out of this one. They always slipped into the American accent and they had their new IDs Smecker had arranged for them.

The girl shook her head.

"You deserve better. Is he using drugs?"

"What happened to your voice?"

"Hmm? Are they in the truck?"

"Is he going to get in trouble?"

Murph shrugged.

"I don't want him to get in trouble. I better get rid of them." She said, moving to get back in the truck.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you. You'll go to jail. Do you want to go to jail for someone who beats you up?" Murph asked her, feeling his temper rising.

"Your voice sounds different than before."
The police found crystal meth in the truck, over twenty-eight grams, which Murph, Connor and Carol Beth were told carried a mandatory sentence of three years in prison. The cops thanked Carol Beth and told Joe to pipe down, that he could wash his eyes out in the holding cell after his paperwork got processed back at the station. Murph wondered if the guy would even live if he had swallowed the brake cleaner.

"It was pretty brave of y'all to help this young lady out." One of the cops said to the three of them.

"Decent human beings don't stand by and watch innocent people brutalized." Carol Beth said, still leaning against Connor.

"What's going to happen to her?" Connor asked, pointing to the young woman who was being debriefed by a police woman.

"From what she says, she doesn't want him to go to jail. Typical battered woman's syndrome."

"She told me she had come from somewhere else to visit him. Can you make sure she gets home?" Murph asked the policeman.

"That's up to her, sir."

He and Connor started digging in their pockets. Carol Beth noticed what they were doing and pulled out her wallet.

"That's a lot of money, y'all. She'll probably just buy some dope." The cop said.

Carol Beth looked at him harshly. "Maybe she won't. Maybe she'll have a change of heart. It should get her home or wherever she wants to go. Now may I give it to her and have a word?"

"Well, yes, ma'am. Of course." The cop answered and followed Carol Beth over to where the girl was talking to the police woman.

"Would ye like ta get a cup of coffee, Carol Beth, darlin'?" Murph asked softly, when she stepped back over to her car, where the twins were waiting for her.

"Coffee and a good scream?" she sighed, kissing his cheek.

"Aye." Connor said, patting her on the back.

"Granddaddy said I'd need that brake cleaner." She said, burying her face in her hands.

"Let's find a quiet restaurant." Connor said.

"Will one of you drive for me?"

"Can I make yer car go as fast as it's advertised?" Murph asked, grinning.

"Dear lord, if you two don't remind me of Granddaddy. No, Connor drives."

"Ha, I get tha Rover!" Murph chuckled.

Carol Beth was very quiet as they sat at a booth in the non-smoking section of a small restaurant, where they were practically the only customers. It would have been an ideal time for a cigarette or a whole pack but Murph knew that the time had come to stop smoking once and for all. He figured Carol Beth was in a bit of shock, fairly certain that her rage was deep seated from a memory.

"Did ye have a traumatic event in yer past, Carol Beth?" he asked.

"I was very sheltered actually. I grew up down in Gulf Shores. Other than news reports, I've never had anyone mistreat me or anyone I know." She said calmly, then she turned her eyes intently on both of them. "I was an undergraduate at Wellesley College. Then I did my PhD at Tufts. So I lived in the Boston area for quite a while."

The twins smiled uncomfortably.

"There was a news story about three men, Irishmen, in South Boston, who made a great effort to help rid the city of some of its criminals and cruelty. I remember how sick and tired I was of reading about all the violence and crime in the city, how scared I was to live in Boston, because the work for my PhD was done at a hospital smack dab in the middle of the city. Their story was intriguing and refreshing." She said, smiling back at them. "I wasn't scared of that guy. Besides, I think I had some good back up."

"Carol Beth, don't go in ta tha killin' business." Connor said, no longer smiling.

"No?"

"Ye'd ruin yer pretty clothes." Murph chuckled.

"Very true."

"So, are you those guys?"

"Carol Beth, we're the Leprechaun Hunters." Murph said, reaching into his pocket. "Here's our card."

Carol Beth took one look at it and began laughing. "You can't possibly mean?"

They both began nodding and the three of them shared a laugh. The question was never answered. They bid one another goodbye to go their separate ways, Carol Beth to Atlanta where she lived and the brothers to The Leprechaun Tree.

A/N:For those of you who don't understand my references to Leah, she is a character central to my other stories "When the Sun Shone on Their Faces" (Romance/Comedy) and "Out of the Palm of His Hand" (where I took away all the happiness of my writing and killed her off and made Murph and Connor kill the evil men who killed her—and Murph, Connor and I have been filled with self loathing ever since). At any rate, Leah was Connor's wife and Murph adored her too. Any references to her are not meant to make anyone sad. Connor saying her name should actually make you feel happy. It means he's healing, which also means he will bring himself to be almost as silly as Murph.