A/N: Thanks for the review, Virtute! I really appreciate the time you take to comment. The case ramps up again in this chapter and we'll start getting into some serious action. I promise...the end is near. LOL Thanks to everyone who continues to read!

Chapter 28

"You know, the problem with this case has been that the second we get a lead we want to pursue, something else happens to distract us from it," Frank said with a sigh, as he walked with his father up the front steps of Duncan's modest, Cape Cod style home.

"Well, after we're done interviewing MacLean, let's go over that list of leads and start tackling them one by one," Fenton said as he reached forward to ring the doorbell.

Frank smiled. "Thanks. That would be a huge help."

"No problem. We have a murderer loose in Bayport. We need to catch him."

The white front door of the house opened cautiously and Duncan's Scottish brogue greeted them. "Who is it?"

"Frank Hardy. I'm here with my dad, Fenton Hardy. Do you mind if we come in and ask you some questions about the other night?"

Frank could hear him sigh from behind the door. "Don't you police guys ever talk to one another? I already answered a million questions from the chief."

"We're private investigators," Frank explained.

The door opened fully and Duncan stood there in a tartan robe with a scowl on his face. "I thought you and your brother worked for the cops."

"On a limited basis," Frank explained as Duncan opened the screen door and gestured for them to enter. "We won't be long. We know you're still not completely recovered from the shooting."

"I'm fine," Duncan said. He shook Fenton's outstretched hand and then ushered them into his living room. "Have a seat."

Frank and Fenton walked to the leather sofa, while Duncan eased himself into a wing chair opposite them. Frank noted the open books and papers Duncan had on the coffee table. "Doing some work?"

"Trying." He grimaced slightly as he adjusted his position in the chair. "I've been going over information on the items that were stolen. I can't seem to figure out why anyone would want them badly enough to pull the stunt they did at the banquet."

"Do you have any theories?" Fenton asked.

"Nothing plausible." Duncan sighed. "Monetarily, they're not worth it. And I just can't come up with anything else."

"Did you see anyone suspicious at the banquet?" Frank leaned forward. "Maybe someone who wasn't on the guest list?"

Duncan shook his head. "No. But my time was being monopolized by Mrs. Fitzpatrick. She makes one donation for five grand and she thinks I'm supposed to kiss her...er...feet."

"What did you do when the lights went out?" Fenton wanted to know.

"I heard glass breaking and I ran for the exhibit cases. I thought I might have a chance at stopping the intruder." He sighed again. "I would have done it too, if I hadn't gotten shot." He looked up at Frank and Fenton. "I don't remember anything after that."

Frank reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the evidence bag he'd borrowed from Collig, containing the note card left near Duncan's table on the night of the banquet. He placed it on the coffee table. "Does this look familiar?"

"What is it?" Duncan leaned forward in his chair slowly, wincing at the pain in his shoulder.

"It was found on the floor of the museum the morning after the banquet. It appears to be addressed to you."

Duncan picked up the plastic bag and read the message. His face paled to a deathly white. The card slipped from his hand. "It can't be," he whispered.

"What can't be?" Frank asked. "What do you know about this?"

Duncan gulped. "I-I've never seen that card before."

"Then what did you mean?"

"Elizabeth Campbell lived over five hundred years ago." His eyes were wild as he looked from Frank to Fenton. "Don't you see? She's still seeking revenge. She's haunting me. She's the one responsible for the shooting."

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

"I've brought you a fourth," Emily said, as she led Joe by the hand through a set of French doors, into her backyard.

"Great," a male voice called out.

Joe turned to see a handsome, blond-haired man in his early thirties approach them. He bent down to kiss Emily on the cheek.

"You okay, baby? We heard what happened. Sarah was sick about it."

"I'm fine." She smiled and looked at Joe. "This is Joe. He's the one who came to my rescue."

Joe rolled his eyes. "You've got to stop saying that, Emily."

"Why? It's true." She gestured and smiled. "This is my brother-in-law, Rob. He's married to my sister, Sarah."

Joe shook his hand. "Nice to meet you."

"You, too. And thanks for looking out for our little Emmy, here."

"My pleasure," Joe smiled. He glanced up as two other dark haired men approached.

"This is Rachel's husband, Mike," Emily said, as Joe shook his hand.

"Good to meet you, Joe."

"And this," Emily said with a big smile, "is my dad."

Joe looked over to see the same green eyes of Emily's staring at him from her father's face. He was handsome, with dark hair graying at the temples, and an easy smile. He shook Joe's hand vigorously. "Thanks for taking care of my baby girl."

"My pleasure, sir."

"We're glad to have you here," Emily's dad continued. "Especially since it means I don't have to beat these two all by myself anymore." He grinned as he gestured to Emily's brothers-in-law. "You play volleyball, Joe?"

"Yeah," he said with a slight hesitation in his voice.

"Great," Emily's dad said. "Then welcome to the Clark family tradition." He headed out across the lawn to a sandy area. "Let's go, guys."

Mike laughed and turned to Joe. "Okay, let me clue you in here, so you don't have to learn the hard way."

"Like we did," Rob added.

"Steve plays to win and he expects you to, also. Don't worry about going easy on him...he'll kill you. He's that good."

"He'll respect you if you go for it. No holding back. Got it?" Rob asked as he tossed him the volleyball.

"Got it," Joe said. He looked back at Emily who gave him an encouraging smile.

"They're right." She patted him on the back. "Have fun. I'll be in the kitchen with the 'womenfolk'."

Rob laughed. "Yeah, you tell Sarah she's right where I want her. Barefoot, pregnant and cooking my dinner."

Emily snorted. "If I tell her that, you won't be able to run fast enough to escape her wrath."

"Don't I know it?" He looked at Joe. "I'm teasing, of course. It's a standing joke around here with all the cooking these women like to do." As they walked down the patio steps to the volleyball court, he said in a low voice. "Once you have a dinner here, you're a goner."

Mike chuckled. "Yeah, Rachel's still not sure if I married her for her or her mother's cooking."

Joe gave an uneasy laugh as he tossed the volleyball in the air and caught it.

"He thinks we're kidding," Rob said to Mike as they moved towards the net.

Mike shook his head. "He'll learn. Just buy the ring now, Joe," he grinned. "You're going to anyway...right after your first bite of roast beef."

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

"I hate to break this to you," Fenton said to Duncan. "But someone who lived over five hundred years ago couldn't possibly be responsible for your getting shot last week."

Duncan shook his head. "I don't mean she pulled the trigger." He eased himself back into his chair and paused. "I mean she's bewitching me. I'm cursed."

Frank sighed. "We're back to that again." He looked at Duncan. "Would you care to explain what you mean by that?"

Duncan held out a trembling hand and pointed to the bookshelves flanking his fireplace. "There," he said. "On the third shelf. There's a book with a plaid binding. Get that for me, would you?"

Frank stood and moved toward the bookshelf to retrieve the volume.

Duncan looked at Fenton. "Would you mind bringing us all some tea, Mr. Hardy? I've a kettle on the stove and it's already hot. The tea is on the counter. I was about to have a cup when you knocked on the door."

"Not at all," Fenton replied. "You look like you could use some."

He headed toward the kitchen and Frank handed the book to Duncan. "Is this the one?"

Duncan nodded and thumbed through the pages. "Here." He handed it back to Frank. "Here's the legend of Elizabeth Campbell and Lachlan MacLean. Read the last paragraph."

Frank carried the book back to the sofa and sat down as he began to read aloud. "After the crime of leaving his wife to drown at high tide by Laird Lachlan MacLean was uncovered, Lady Elizabeth Campbell vowed her revenge. While attempts were made throughout history to make the Laird's wife appear almost in the light of a martyred saint, other accounts assert that she'd twice attempted to take her husband's life during their marriage. It was because of this, and the fact that Lady Elizabeth was barren, that Lachlan MacLean decided to dispose of his problem once and for all by leaving his 'loving' wife to die on a shoal off the coast of Mull."

Fenton reappeared with a cup of steaming tea and handed it to Duncan.

"Aren't you having any?" Duncan asked.

"After I hear the rest of this story." Fenton joined his son on the couch. "It's fascinating."

"Most Scottish history is," Duncan said with a smile as he sipped his tea.

Frank cleared his throat. "Anyway, the legend continues by saying that Elizabeth Campbell delivered a message to her now estranged husband telling him that she would never forgive him for disgracing her in such a way and that not only would she haunt him after his death, but every MacLean that was or would be the clan chief would be a target for her revenge." He looked up. "Wow, that girl knows how to hold a grudge."

Duncan pointed to the note in the evidence bag resting on his coffee table. "Precisely."

Fenton snorted. "You're not telling me that you think this note is actually from the ghost of Elizabeth Campbell, are you?"

"It doesn't seem rational, I know," Duncan's hands shook around his tea cup. "But I am next in line to be the clan chief. It's only a title now, of course, but the curse doesn't seem to discriminate. And besides, what other explanation is there?"

"Someone knows about your superstitions involving this legend and is capitalizing on them to scare you," Frank said.

"But why?" Duncan glanced from Frank to Fenton. "What reason would they have to do this?"

Fenton shook his head. "I don't know. Someone clearly wants to intimidate you, wants you gone from the museum, wants the museum to fail or..."

"Wants you dead," Frank finished.

Duncan looked at his shoulder. "That message was received loud and clear."

"This is all connected somehow," Fenton continued. "Ayres' murder, the stolen artifacts, the incident at the banquet, the charmstones, the creep who attacked Emily–"

"What?" Duncan interrupted. "Who attacked Emily? What are you talking about?"

Frank explained the events of the previous night and Duncan's eyes widened in alarm.

"What on earth could she possibly have that someone would want badly enough to kill for?" Duncan asked. "She doesn't deal with sensitive information at the museum. There's nothing she could have."

"That's what baffles us," Fenton admitted. "But I think when we find what that guy was looking for, we'll have our answer."

"Unless what you're looking for is a ghost," Duncan said in a low voice as he sipped his tea.

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

Emily looked up from her position behind the kitchen counter as the men in her family entered the room. "Where's Joe?"

"He's right here. Don't worry Em; we weren't mean to your boyfriend," Mike said with a grin.

She ignored the remark as she dried her hands on a dish towel and moved towards the French doors. "How'd it go?"

"The game?" her dad asked. "Great. Joe's quite the player. He has a wicked spike." He grinned. "He even got me a time or two."

Emily visibly relaxed and Joe moved towards her. "I had fun," he whispered reassuringly in her ear.

"Why don't you all wash up a bit and we can eat," Emily's mom suggested.

"You don't have to tell me twice," Mike smiled as he moved toward the kitchen sink. "I'm starving."

Joe surveyed the long oak dining table, running the length of the next room. It was piled high with food and Sarah and Rachel continued to add more dishes to the already crowded sideboard. "Does your family always eat like this?"

"Every Sunday," Emily said with a smile.

"I'm impressed," he grinned back at her.

"I hope you're hungry," she said, as she broke off a piece of a warm roll and held it out to him.

Joe pulled her close to him and opened his mouth. Emily giggled and fed him the roll, while he gave her back a gentle caress. Her eyes widened and Joe saw a glimmer of anticipation there. "It's delicious," he said, in a somewhat husky voice.

"Buy the ring," Rob said in a loud whisper as he walked by with a bowl of steaming mashed potatoes, breaking the spell.

"What?" Emily had a puzzled look on her face.

"It's nothing," Joe said with a wave of his hand.

"Have some roast beef, Joe," Mike shouted out from across the room.

"You two are so weird," Emily said to her brothers-in-law with a roll of her eyes.

Joe chuckled and looked up as Emily's sister, Sarah, came over to the table with a dish of green beans.

"Hey, you do have shoes on," he said with a grin. "Rob was just saying outside how he likes to have you–"

"Comfortable, sweetheart," Rob interrupted. "I want you to always be comfortable."

"Aw, thanks honey." Sarah smiled as she sat the dish on the table. "He's always so thoughtful when I'm pregnant."

Rob shook his head as Joe suppressed a chuckle. Mike laughed out loud. "You're going to fit right in, Joe."