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Stories by Laura Lagana
Hamish McWallace and the Leprechaun Treasure - Chapter 17


On the drive home, Grams said to Hamish, “You know what? Since we’re so close to the wharf, I do believe we should stop at that little tea shop I found the other day.”

“What about my clothes?” Hamish held out a corner of his shirt with a chunk of congealed oil stuck to the material.

“Finnegan, do you mind handling it? I need to concentrate,” said Grams.

“As you wish, Your Majesty.” Finnegan sprinkled leprechaun dust over Hamish’s head, dissolving the oil and chunks of fries, leaving the clothes smelling fresh.

“Amazing. You’re right. There really is a lot of things that can be done with leprechaun dust,” said Hamish, eyeing his clean shirt.

Grams chuckled. “Maybe I can leave some with your mum to help her keep the house clean. She’s not the best housekeeper.”

Hamish snorted. “Don’t tell her that. She’s not very happy with your constant reminders of her house cleaning skills.”

“She should be happy,” said Grams. “I give wonderful advice. Oh good, we’re here.” She pulled the car into a parking space and turned off the engine. “Why don’t we sit outside for a spot of tea this morning? That sounds lovely.”

“Are you buying?” Captain Malcolm didn’t wait for an answer, but ran to the nearest table, slid into the seat and closed his eyes for a moment.

“One would think that after being alive for several hundred years, Captain Malcolm would act more grown up,” said Finnegan.

“From what little time I’ve spent with him,” said Hamish, “I have the feeling he hasn’t changed very much and probably never will.” He pulled out a chair for Grams while Finnegan laughed at the comment.

“Thank you dear.” Grams patted Hamish’s cheek before glancing at a menu. “Now, where’s the waitress?”

Once the tea was delivered, Hamish leaned back in his seat and put his arm around Grams shoulder. “I’m so glad you’re safe. Why didn’t you tell me you were sick?”

“I wanted to enjoy my visit,” she said after removing her false teeth and setting them on a nearby napkin before adding cream and sugar to her tea. “This was to be my last visit and I wanted to enjoy it. Could you have enjoyed my visit know I was dying?”

Hamish stared out over the harbor, watching the sunlight dance across the water. “I guess not, but don’t you think I’d have been really upset when you died so shortly after you went home?”

“Probably, but your memories would have been fond ones.”

“Quit your whining,” said Captain Malcolm. “It all turned out for the best.” He sat up straighter in his chair. “Hold on a minute. What have we here?”

Finnegan watched a yacht pull into the dock next to the restaurant. He popped a piece of biscuit into his mouth before saying, “It looks like a boat.”

“No,” said Captain Malcolm, pushing away from the table. “It’s my ship.”

Hamish whistled under his breath. “She’s a beauty. You planning on buying it with your treasure?”

An unholy grin spread across Captain Malcolm’s face. “Aye…buy…that sounds good.”

“So you’re planning on stealing her then?” Hamish reached for the cream to add to his tea. “How do you plan to do that? There are people onboard.”

As Captain Malcolm stood from the table, he smacked Hamish on the back. “Watch and learn.” He leaned over and kissed Grams on the check. “It’s been lovely. I’m sure I’ll see you again. By the way, thanks for freeing me from Finnegan’s prison.”

Finnegan called out to Captain Malcolm’s retreating back before the pirate jumped into the sea, “Try not stealing my treasure again and I won’t have to punish you.”

Grams patted Finnegan’s arm. “Don’t you mean King Rogan’s treasure?”

“It’s my treasure now,” said Finnegan.

Hamish rubbed his forehead to massage away the headache forming behind his eyes. “That daft pirate is going to get caught.”

“I’m not so sure,” said Grams, sipping at her tea. “The people are leaving the boat.”

Hamish choked back his astonishment as Captain Malcolm shimmied up a ladder that hung over the side of the ship. Once the people were out of sight, he unhooked all the ropes. A lone deckhand stood at the wheel and shrieked when Captain Malcolm tossed the man overboard. The deckhand cursed as he hit the chilly ocean water. A moment later, Captain Malcolm’s head slowly rose above the wheel. He tipped his hat at Hamish, Grams and Finnegan before sailing the ship away from the dock.

Hamish returned the wave. “I sure hope he knows what he’s doing.”

Grams slung her bag over her shoulder while holding the car keys. “Don’t spend time worrying about Captain Malcolm. He was once the most infamous pirate of his time. I have no doubt that he can handle his own.”

Finnegan tossed several gold coins onto the table for the waitress before following Hamish and Grams to the car.

“I just realized,” said Hamish, buckling his seatbelt. “Captain Malcolm forgot Marvin.”

Grams started the car. “No he didn’t. That pirate forgets nothing. He must’ve wanted you to have the parrot.”

“Huh,” said Hamish. “I never would have guessed the pirate had a soft spot.”

Finnegan snorted as Grams pulled the car onto the street. “Don’t ever tell him that. He’s apt to make you walk the plank.”

“Think we’ll ever see him again?” Hamish furrowed his brows while drumming his fingers on the armrest.

Finnegan cut in to say, “Do you think we could be so lucky as to never have him darken our door again? I think not. He’s like bad cheese.”

Hamish turned and met Finnegan’s gaze. “Bad cheese?”

“Aye. So smelly that it clings to your clothes, constantly reminding you that it’s in the room.”

Hamish chuckled. “Sounds like you’ve given this lot’s of thought.”

Finnegan grumbled. “Aye I have and I dislike smelly cheese.”


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