The St. Pat's Case

Detective Q. E. Colaily sat behind his desk in his dank and musty office. The snow had begun to melt, and yet the case he would soon find himself to be working on would melt away all his past thought about crime. The cops had called him up last night, not about the Stanton incident last year, but about a new case. They said that this one was tough. Tougher than nails, they said. They might have got the expression out of context, but Quinton had never been much for English. The door opened, and in walked Ted.
“Hey bud, you look familiah,” Quinton said.
“I… I.. haven’t.. met you before,” said Ted uncertainly.
Quinton couldn’t quite recall where he had seen Ted, but decided to get to business.
“So, why’re you here? Is it the Irish case?”
“Well- yes,” replied Ted. He shuddered, “They say he was a leprechaun.”
“Tell me what you know.”

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