Thaddeus croaks loudly and pleasantly and sets the mood for the Leprechaun sing-along. After some hearty renditions of favorites, the Boyles are more than willing to talk about that night.

Jack, the oldest of the Boyle brothers, serves as their spokesman. He explains that the boys did drink a lot in their room, and had a rather wild evening, which involved Mack shooting a piece of the ceiling down with the family's old blunderbuss.

At that, he claims, Ciaran pounded on the connecting wall and told them to shut up as it was midnight. They laughed and ignored him, but an hour later he yelled again.

"Sure, his voice was sounding a bit strange then. More raspy, but we figured he had a bit too much of a dram. Besides, Pack finally had enough brew to start cryin' about Shannon O'Mara--again, and we went to comforting him. We've offered to pay for the ceiling repair, but the handyman, also Mack, but no relation to us, hasn't even arrived to look at it.

"We know he was about that night, because Zack checked outside twice and saw a figure disappearing down the hall each time. First time, he was bare-headed, but the second time he had a cap pulled down over his face. He ignored our calls, and went right downstairs."

Pack speaks up for himself and admits he loves Shannon, claiming she is the prettiest leprechaun he's ever seen.

"But she went on and on about Ciaran, don't ya know. How he was the perfect man, so devoted to his wife, and that sort of palaver. No one could measure up, so I couldna' tell her how I felt about her. I was green jealous, but I wouldna' harm him."

Zack backs up Jack's story about the handyman in the hall twice, but Mack just hangs his head sheepishly at being so in his cups he doesn't even remember blasting the hole in the ceiling. Still, the hole is very much there, so he's taking the blame for it.

You've gotten as much as you can out of the boys, so you prepare to go down to talk to the other Mack and Shannon. As you rise, a slip of paper catches your eye. It's crumpled and appears to have been pushed through the wall from the other side. It's another candy wrapper with a few scrawled words.

"Help me! Sha..." the rest of the letters are illegible.

Downstairs, Francine is sitting with an astonishingly attractive barmaid with shining chestnut hair and big blue eyes rather red from crying. On the table between them is a copy of Fleniken, the intergalactic best-seller that details the killing that provided the false cover for the real murder of Ciaran McPherson.

Francine introduces the lovely girl as Shannon O'Mara, Pack Boyle's unrequited love.

"Shannon was just telling me about our victim," Francine explains.

"Oh, he was the loveliest man, really. So devoted to his wee wife. He called her every night, every time he stayed here. I loved bringing him his bedtime toddy. Just tea with milk. Ciaran didn't drink. I'd leave it by the bed and he always left a nice tip for me to pick up in the morning. I left about 11:15 and I had no idea that would be the last time I ever saw him!"

Shannon begins to weep again.

LaBrie clears his throat. "So you weren't having any sort of a...fling with him?"

"Oh, no!" Shannon replies with indignation. "What I admired more about him was his devotion to his wife!"

"Pardon my asking, miss," LaBrie apologizes, "but people have commented on your affection for him."

"Yes, I was very fond of him, and his love for his wife was one of the main reason. I want a man to feel that way about me, but not Ciaran! I brought him his tea, said goodnight, and left! That was all! You can ask Mack if you don't believe me. He always looks out for me, so he knows who flirts with me and who doesn't. He even has a gun and he knows how to use it! He was in the 3rd Gold Pot Division as a marksman!"

"Even though this Mack has an alibi, maybe we should speak to him again," Thaddeus suggests.

"But you said the shot didn't kill MacPherson." Nutsy objects.

"It didn't. He was already dead when that shot was fired, but I think he might know a thing or two. And I want a look at that teacup. MacPherson wasn't poisoned but he was given a sedative, so Miss O'Mara may now be as innocent as she appears."

"Time for some serious questioning," LaBrie agrees.

(OOC: Indeed it is, detectives. You have three free questions which you may ask of anyone, including Albie Moore, the hotel's manager and owner. If you want to use more, you will have to dig into your reserve. Ask wisely and use your clues carefully. You have until Saturday, April 28th, at 11:59 pm Subeta time to smail your questions to me. Happy sleuthing!)