The Case of the Mysterious Shamrock!

Chapter 2: 'Tis not easy bein' o' the green

Summary:

What have they captured? Is he a criminal? Was a crime committed?
All that counts are the facts. Evidence, we need evidence!

Notes:

Myths ... are they fantasy or merely the attempts of the rational, logical, sane mind to explain that which defies explanation?

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

"Dwayne, … would you care to enlighten us?" Richard queries.

"Well Chief, about two hours ago we was down near Port Royal, patrolin' the perimeter road lookin' fer vehicles, boats and what not, that might be transportin' the troublemakers. We got a call about another breakin' an' a suspicious individual running through a back garden, so we start a pursuit. We find this … this … well … gentleman cuttin', through some private property. We gave chase and apprehended this ... this ...individual. Sir!" Dwayne snaps a smart salute.

"Gentlemen, would you like to explain why our suspect is trussed up in this most unorthodox manner and why you didn't call for backup?"

Dwayne looks at J P and mumbles, "Your turn to talk, and try to explain the last two hours."
Giving a halfhearted salute and sweating profusely, J P begins: "Sir, Chief, Sir. … When we caught up to the suspect, he resisted. We cuffed him and placed him in the side car. I rode behind Dwayne. We were going to call in when he jumps out and dashes into the jungle he's out of the cuffs and he's waving our phones. We catch him again. We recuff his wrists, and then we put a pair on his ankles. But then our phones don't work. So, we start again. This time he jumps out of the sidecar while we're moving and starts hoppin' away like … like … like one of those kangaroo things from Australia. We catch him again for the third time. We were near the fisherman's harbor, so we stopped and got this rope an' trussed him up. I had to keep pushing him back into the sidecar 'cause he kept tryin' to get away. And … well, … here we are, Sir. Chief sir."

With that, the diminutive prisoner shrugs and the ropes and handcuffs drop to the floor. He steps out of his encasements, doffs his gold buckled, green, high crowned hat and announces, with a bow; "I am Shamus Sean O'Shea, at yer service your Majesty."

"I am Detective Inspector Richard Poole. … Mr. O'Shea."

"Ah, that is a fine title ya be havin' Gov'ner!" Patting his chest and then his breeches, he asks: Aye … Noooow what have yer done with me pipe Captain darllin'".

"Inspector, Mr. O'Shea, and there is no smoking on the premises."

"Well, that be a stingy thick one!" observed the suspect as he placed a long clay pipe in his mouth, with a chuckle.

"Dwayne, J P were there any other personal effect?"
J P dashes from the room as Dwayne explains. "In all the falderal in gittin' our guest in here we forgot the bucket."

"It's a POT, ya ninny!"

"Yes Chief, as Mr. O'Shea just stated, it's a pot full of four-leaf clovers."

"Shamrocks, ya pratt! Straight from the Emerald Isle. Faith and begorah! I be smothered with eegits!"

"Ah Chief there was also a stick."

"It's a shillelagh not a stick, ya moron!".
Camille sidles up to Richard and states: "Mr. O'Shea, might you have some identification, possibly some travel documents? Visa? Passport?

"You are a "cailin alinn!"
"And you Monsieur O'Shea are using a touch of the blarney? n'est-ce pas?'
The little man smiles and states: "I'm a leprechaun! Need I say more."
Dwayne blurts. "That's some kinda' fairy or sumpin.'"

"I'm a leprechaun ya bleendin' fool. I'm from Ireland, so do I have ta sing "Danny Boy" for ya? ... Let me explain this slowlike fer ya now. Leprechauns don't need no blinkin' passports. Does it look like I need I D ? Look, look at me, what da I look like? Do I look like an Easter Bunny? Tooth fairy? Ahhh, … yer nothin but a simp!"
Dwayne frowns in frustration, and steps back, Camille smirks.

"Now now, Monsieur O'Shea", Camille purrs, with batted eyelashes.

"Ah, me girl, yer most comely and fair, but save yer own blarney, I'm seven hundred and forty-one years old. I've heard and seen it all."
J P returns with pot and stick. "Sir, the little green weeds are all gone, but our phones are here, and they seem to be working now." The young officer's confusion brings a wide smile to the little man with the shocking red hair and beard.

"Well now me lord, what's yer pleasure?"

"Humph!" Snorts Richard. "My pleasure? … Would be your total and complete cooperation! That not being the case, … fingerprint and DNA sample and a few hours in one of our sells while we work to establish your identity."

"Ah now that would be fine! Rest and relaxation in yer fine establishment, general."

"Inspector." Hisses Richard through clenched teeth.

"Dwayne, J P, will you escort our "guest" to the cells? "

"Yes aye Chief"

"Camille, Fidel see what you can do about a real identity for our friend. Maybe Dublin has a leprechaun database!" Richard says with bitter sarcasm.

Camille and Fidel both smirk, much to Richard's discomfort, as they head to their task. Camille mumbles as they leave for the evidence room. "We're on it, Inspector darrlin'"

"Not funny." grumps Richard.
As Dwayne and J P return to the main room, Richard states, "Let's go over all those witness statements. this whole affair could not have been perpetrated by just one individual. There must be some physical evidence other than those bits of green botanicals. Somebody must have seen something more than a shadow." They all start the grind of good basic investigative work!

The four team members plus J P, sit at their now cleared desks, staring at one another. Six hours have passed. It is midafternoon. They are now in hour sixteen of their most frustrating case in the DI Poole era.

"Alright Team, let's go through this one last time.!"
The five exhausted officers gather about the white board, adjacent to the Saint Marie map strewn with a total of twenty-seven pins. Twenty red and seven pink.

"Refresh me, why are there seven pink pins?"

"We ran out a red ones, Chief." explains Dwayne.

"Camille, take us through what we know."

"Le rien! Nothing! Nada! Zilch! Zero! … Inspector darlin'!"

"Still not funny." Snaps a frustrated Richard."

"Sir." interjects Fidel. "She's right. It's all … nothing, dissolved, vanished!"

"Alright, … alright, … step …by … step. " Richard stares at the white board.

"Why do we have a stick figure drawing representing Mr. O'Shea and not a photograph?"
Dwayne steps forward. "Chief, me and JP tried a dozen times to take his picture. At first, we thought he was jest dodgen' us real quick like. Then we tried holdn' him, but de jest don' show up. They all show me and JP huggin air.

"Yeah." adds JP. "Like, you know … ah like vampires can't show up in a mirror!"

"Stop right there, we are not going to get into all the loa, and … and … that word we don't use around here." snarls Richard.

"Voodoo." Whisper the other four teammates.

"No! … No! … No! … We are here to deal with reality, not some … some…" Richard releases an exasperated sigh. Let us proceed, lady and gentleman."

"Boss."

"Yes Fidel. … And Fidel, might we have just some straightforward facts, please?"

"Yes sir. Here is what we know. One, the witness statements are all virtually identical. It's almost like they were reading a script. And two, the statements have gone all blank."

"What?"

"Yes Sir, every one of the handwritten statements have gone blank."

"Blank." groans Richard.

"And that's not all sir. Three, there were no footprints anywhere around the crime scenes. None at all. Not one footprint, period. … not even animal tracks."

"Continue Officer Best."

"This is another weird part, Sir. … The twenty-seven evidence bags are all empty!"

"How the devil …?"

"Sir the seals are all intact. The bags have no fingerprints on them."
Richard's frown grows deeper. "So, we have no physical evidence. … … But wait, what about O'Shea."

"Boss, this is the weirdest part of all. He has no fingerprints, and no DNA!

"Adermatoglyphia, no fingerprints, is real. But it exists in only four or five extended family lines in the whole world. But no DNA? That is absolutely impossible. All living creatures have DNA. He must have some way of contaminating the sample.

"Well now me fine friends, might I be of service?"
The five police officers slowly turn to the voice behind them. And there he stands. Shamus Sean O'Shea, green, buckle adorned high crowned hat cocked rakishly over one eye. A long clay pipe clenched in his grin, his shillelagh in one hand and his pot, holding what appears to be gold coins, in the other!

"How in the world did you get out?" Blurts Fidel.

"I opened the door your denseness!" exclaims the chuckling escapee.

"Dwayne!" Huffs Richard. "Go check that cell door."
Dwayne quickly goes and returns. "It's closed and locked, Chief."

"And what kind a guest would I be, … of course I closed the door. Ya thinks I was born in a barn do ya now? Ya stoop!" I swear on all that be holy, you all are true eegits! Do ya not believe your own eyes and ears?"

"Mr. O'Shea."

"Yes, Colonel darlin'!"
Richard glares, then sighs, then chuckles. "Mr. O'Shea, there has to be an explanation for all that has transpired since midnight. Would you care to lift our vail of ignorance?

"Oh, me boy, you do talk so pretty. I could listen to those fine words for ere, for they be like music. Do ya not have a drop o' the Irish in ya now?"
"The only drop of the Irish I might have would come in one of your fine bottles."

"Well said … INSPECTOR darlin'. And me tale be short and sweet."

"Proceed Mr. O'Shea. If you, please."

"I 'spose ya all know the tales of the patron saint of Ireland? How good Saint Patrick drove out all the snakes from Ireland and all so many more wonderous deeds. Well, the shamrock has become the symbol of the faith he brought to the folk of Ireland back in the fifth century. It's the sign of good luck and hope for the future. Well, we wee ones go out on this day to spread the joy. But we must be careful, 'causein', ifin we be caught, we must give ya a reward to regain our freedom. Now, there be many tales abought baitin' and catchin' we wee folk. But, if truth be told, ya must catch us three times fer the reward. … And yer fine lads did the trick! So, I am here to honor me word.
I come from the Emerald Isle and this, sure and begorah, 'tis a fair emerald isle in a glorious warm sea. Ya caught me all fair and square. so here be the reward."
Shamus Sean O'Shea sets his pot full of its glimmering contents down in front of the five officers. Then with a motion so quick as to be virtually invisible, he casts a handful of shamrocks into the air like confetti. He spins and dashes for the door. Down the stairs he flees crying over his shoulder; "Erin go Bragh!"
Momentarily frozen, the officers just stare. Camille breaks the spell, shouting; "Go vte, vte!" and leads the junior officers off to chase the source of their torment for the last eighteen hours. Only Richard remains.

Notes:

We march on. What will the team find? Is this a solvable case? We shall see!

End

Chapter 2/3

The case of the Mysterious Shamrock!