Sleepy Hollow Inn, Part V

The Sleepy Hollow Inn, Part V
By M. Davenport

When I found out about Veronica's death it was too late for me to inspect the body and see what type of bite it had been, or sense any lingering presence in the room. What was even more disturbing to me was the fact I had not sensed the presence of death's arrival at any point in the night because, after Veronica retired for the night, I had passed by Edward James getting fully inibriated at the bar with Mickey over-seeing. I bade him good night and went to my own quarters for the remainder of the dark where I caught up on some over due paperwork, checked emails, and even wrote a letter for the post the next day. It was quite an oridnary evening for me, yet I did not sense when Veronica passed through the veil, and I should have. Even more disturbing was the worried look Mickey gave me in my chambers upon rising the next evening he had come to rouse me and had been unable to do so. Unlike in the movies, when the coffin lid is raised, we vampires are aware and if we do not move (especially when a wooden steak is heading towards our heart) it is by our own choice. Before Mickey told me the sad news I felt something was wrong in the house, I just could not touch upon what it was, and to make matters worse, Mickey had to tell the police I would be home come seven o'clock.

That was all I needed: the police asking me questions.

Usually I can avoid being querried about where I work or what I do beyond owning the inn and entertaining my guests. Still, there are moments when my absence must be explained during the day. This time I used the excuse I was out looking for some period antiques for the inn. Luckily I had a contact in Louisville who would back up my story. (Mickey had already emailed Frovey of the need for a cover.)

The detective who arrived prompty at 8:45 in the evening (he was supposed to have been there by 7:30) was a square fellow by the name of John Needers. According to the local papers he was a hometown boy who had done good. The only problem was he couldn't detect his way out of a paper bag and had probably gotten his appointment by knowing someone who knew someone (or knowing something on someone in power). Richmond, Kentucky was indeed a small town and had small town politics. Lucky for me Needers' mind wasn't complicated and easy to read and - sadly - manipulate. John Needers was bull headed but not strong willed, and privy to all kinds of restricted, official information, such as the wounds on Veronica's neck were just pin pricks and were made in a rosette.