“How did you get in?”

“The door. It was-unlocked.”

“No, it wasn’t. I checked all the doors and the windows. Everything is locked up tight.”

“I have a right to be here,” Bartie said.

“You have a right to trespass?”

“This is my house. Mine. You’re the ones who are trespassing.”

Either Bartie was delusional or drunk. Danny was determined to find out which it was and then find out exactly how he got inside. “Come on,” he muttered. He dragged him along with him to the library. When they got inside, Danny flipped on a lamp, then pointed to a chair next to the fireplace. “Sit.”

“I’m the host here. You’re the guest. Don’t tell me what to do.”

The sandwich still clutched in his hand, Bartie watched Danny with suspicious eyes. “I could stand a whiskey,” he said.

Danny strolled over to the small bar table and poured a measure into a tumbler. Perhaps it would loosen Bartie’s tongue.

“Don’t be stingy there, boy. A little more would be appreciated.”

Stubborn old sot, Danny thought as he handed him the whiskey. “How many times have you been in the house, Bartie? I mean, before I caught you.”

“I come and go as I please,” he said. “It’s my house.”

“How is that possible?”

“I’m the heir to Castle Cnoc.”

“You?”

The old man took a sip of the whiskey then returned to eating his sandwich. “My grandfather owned the place. He inherited it from his father.”

“You’re a Carrick?”

Bartie nodded, then wiped his hand on his pants and held it out to Danny. “Bartholomew G. Carrick the third. Pleasure to meet you.”

Danny took Bartie’s hand and shook it. This was growing more bizarre with every moment that passed. The man who’d been digging holes for months in the garden was the former heir to Castle Cnoc. “You’ve been sneaking into the house?”

He nodded.

“How? I’ve made sure the place has been locked up tighter than a drum. And there are the dogs.”

“I have my ways,” Bartie said. “Secret ways. I’m not about to tell you.” He paused. “And your dogs don’t bark at someone who’s been feeding them bits of beef every day.”

“You will tell me how you got in or I’ll call the gardai. And they’ll haul you off to jail. If you’re honest about all this, I may let you go without reporting you to either the authorities or Jordan.”

“She doesn’t belong here. I do.”

“Bartie, I’m not sure how it happened, but I know that this house doesn’t belong to you. Not anymore.”

The older man blinked at him, as if he didn’t fully comprehend the complexities of property ownership. “It’s been in my family for generations.”

“And now it isn’t. Besides, why would you want this great hulk of a place? It’s impossible to keep up. It would take thousands, hell, millions, to keep it looking like this. Myself, I’ve always preferred a tidy little cottage.”

“I have a cottage,” Bartie said. “In the village. It’s lovely.”

“I have a place of my own in Ballykirk. Men like us don’t need all these trappings. This place is like a museum. We’re just regular blokes.”

Bartie nodded, then drained the rest of his whiskey. He held out the glass. “Another,” he ordered.

Danny decided to keep him drinking and talking. “So, you’ve been coming in and wandering around at night because you can’t bear to part with the family estate? But what’s with the holes in the garden?”

Bartie leaned forward. “I’m trying to find the treasure.”

“What treasure?”

“The gold and silver my grandfather buried in the garden. Before he lost his fortune, he hid a chest somewhere on the estate, to save it from his creditors. He planned to come back for it, but he died suddenly and the family fell into financial ruin. That’s when they had to sell Castle Cnoc.”

Danny wasn’t sure of the legalities of the situation. Would buried money belong to the current landowner or the heir of the person that buried it? Either way, Bartie would probably have some legal claim. “And have you found anything?”

He shook his head. “Not yet. But I will. I’ve been looking now for seventeen years. It’s got to be here somewhere.”

“And you’ve looked in the house?”

“Oh, yes, I know every inch of this house and it’s not here. Once she leaves I’ll have much more freedom to look. The new owners won’t be around much, I reckon.” He gave Danny a shrewd look. “If you help me and we find it, I’ll give you twenty percent.”

“If you show me how you got in,” Danny murmured, “I might consider it.”

“It’s a secret,” Bartie said, grinning. He tapped his nose. “Only I know. A family secret passed down to the heir to Castle Cnoc.”

“Of course if you’re talking about the smuggler’s tunnel, we already know about that.”

Danny’s question had the desired effect. Though there had always been talk of a tunnel out to the coast, Bartie would be the one to know. The old man’s face flushed red and he seemed to grow more agitated. “Perhaps it’s time to call the authorities?”

“I haven’t done anything wrong. This house belongs to me.”

“Bartie, you know that’s not true. And besides trespassing, they might want to add some other charges as well. Stalking, harassment, theft. You could be facing ten, maybe twenty years. And what about Daisy? She could be charged as your accomplice.”

“I-I-but-Daisy was only helping me search the grounds. She knew nothing about me coming into the house. And theft-I only took a copy of A Midsummer Night’s Dream so Miss Kennally would think maybe there were fairies.”

Danny scowled. “What about the vase? And the ring?”

“I broke the vase accidentally. And I thought the ring might be a clue. I put it back.” Bartie looked offended.

“Show me the tunnel right now and I’ll make sure none of this ever gets back to the authorities.”

“Yes.” Bartie paused. “Maybe that would be best.”

“Danny?”

They both turned to find Jordan standing in the doorway, dressed in only a faded T-shirt. Her eyes went wide when she caught sight of Bartie and she pulled the bottom of the shirt down to cover her backside.

“What are you doing here, Bartie? It’s late.”

“Bartie is our resident brownie,” Danny said. “He’s been in and out of this house-what?-a hundred times since he started working for you.”

“More before that,” Bartie said. “It’s not hard.” He walked over to the center bookshelf on the far wall. “It’s this center shelf. You just give it a quick shove, like this and-” He pushed and the bookcase suddenly became a door. “Simple, really. The stairway leads to a tunnel and the tunnel comes out on the cliffs.”

“Why did you come in?”

“Bartie’s been looking for treasure.”

“First, I thought it was in the house, but I’ve been over this place with a magnifying glass before you showed up. Swimming pool too. Thought it might be there, but it wasn’t. The garden was the next logical spot.” He frowned. “It’s here somewhere. I know it.”

“What were you doing in my room that night?”

“Hoping to steal a key,” he said. “Crawling through that tunnel’s been hard on the back,” he complained. “Would rather come through the front door, I would.”

The three of them stood silently for a long time. “What do you want to do with him?” Danny asked.

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