Jumping off of him, Gravedigger scrambled away. She was panting now, the exertion of their battle belying how quickly all this had occurred.
“Death, blood and deception,” The Headless Horseman said. “Those were the words that best described my human existence. But do you know what was worse than the pain of living? The despair of being resurrected and controlled, like a puppet on strings! Again and again, I was brought back… each time, sent to dispose of those who threatened my masters.”
“Did Samuel Hale threaten someone?” Gravedigger asked, remembering the name of the man for whom Mortimer Quinn had been searching.
“He was too smart for his own good,” The Horseman warned. “When he was invited to take part in the activities of the Sons or Daughters, he refused. Thus, he had to die. That was a bloody time in Sovereign and I do remember it well.”
Sensing that she’d struck a nerve of some sort, triggering some sort of memory that was giving The Horseman pause, she continued to press. “What about Mortimer Quinn? You weren’t able to kill him, were you? That means you can be beaten.”
The Horseman grew still, as if contemplating the past. “Quinn,” he whispered. “How I hate that name.” He suddenly reached out and grabbed Gravedigger by the arm. “Why do you taunt me so?” he demanded.
“What happened between the two of you?” she asked, curious despite herself. Quinn’s book told of his travels and recounted the legends, adding details that no one had ever heard before… but nowhere did he claim to have personally met the monster.
The Horseman said nothing but a wave of anger rose from him, washing over her like a tidal wave. In its wake, she saw images, she heard snippets of conversation… and she knew.
Chapter IV: Mortimer’s Trial
Mortimer had searched the school for clues, feeling strangely ill at ease. The empty building had seemed so barren that it had caused a pang of sadness to rise up in the investigator’s heart. He attributed this to the gory nature of the crime Wilmer had described.
Wilmer walked him to the boarding house and said farewell at the front door. They agreed to meet for dinner and to walk to the Von Drake farm together.
Mrs. Hendricks had been a stout woman with a nose that seemed altogether too small for her face. She had received Mortimer warmly enough, though with that same distant feeling that Mortimer recognized from others in the town. As she showed him to his room, she’d chattered on in a rambling fashion about how her husband had died three years before, succumbing to a fatal episode of gout.
Mortimer changed clothes before sitting at his desk and writing out a list of what he had so far learned. He placed these papers back into his bag, intending to eventually send it to the home office when he had gotten more details.
He was considering taking a short nap before dinner when a knocking came at the door. He rose and opened it, expecting to see Mrs. Hendricks. Instead, he came face to face with a breathtaking young woman. She was in the full bloom of her beauty, with peaches and cream complexion and a figure that spoke of sensual pleasures. She wore clothing that was a mixture of old-fashioned and modern styles, revealing enough décolletage to draw Mortimer’s eyes to her bosom. She wore a solid gold chain around her neck and another on her right wrist.
“Can I help you?” Mortimer asked, forcing his gaze away from her breasts. It was not an easy task.
“I understand that you’ve been asking questions about Samuel Hale. Is that true?”
Mortimer shifted, being all too familiar with how quickly word traveled in a small town. He noted the concerned expression she wore and something clicked within his mind. “You must be Katrina Von Drake.”
Surprise caused her full lips to part. “Yes!”
Mortimer took a step back. “Would you like to come in? My name is Mortimer Quinn”
Katrina hesitated only a moment. She knew that tongues would wag if word got out that she’d been alone in the stranger’s quarters but she was not a woman wedded to tradition. This was 1793, after all, and times were changing.
Katrina took the seat that Mortimer had been using at the desk. She clasped her hands together and Mortimer allowed her a moment to compose herself. “I apologize for disturbing you,” she said at last. Her voice had a pleasingly lilting quality to it. “Samuel was one of my suitors. He was a very sweet man, with a tremendous capacity for learning. I was very much in awe of him in that regard.”
“Your husband was a rival of his,” Mortimer said. It wasn’t a question but Katrina nodded as if it was.
“Brom used to play the most cruel jokes upon him. I’m ashamed to say that I laughed at more than a few of them. I was attracted to Brom’s physical nature but he was so rough compared to Samuel’s refined qualities.”
“But you married him. You must have found him more than just a handsome face.”
“After Samuel vanished, everyone became very afraid of Brom. There were whispers and rumors that he had chased Samuel that night. That they might have had words… or that he might have caused an accident. Brom was the only man who would dare court me then. After awhile… I gave in to his advances.” Katrina looked down, continuing to fumble with her hands. “My wedding day was such a happy one. I woke the next day convinced that things had worked out after all. But then I found… I found….”
Mortimer moved towards her, kneeling in front of Katrina as she began to sob. He gallantly handed her a handkerchief from his pocket and consoled her with various words of comfort.
“Why are you here, Katrina? What do you want of me?”
“I want to know what’s going on,” she said, looking at him with emerald eyes that shone with emotion. “At first I thought that Brom might have hurt Samuel… but then after Brom’s death, I wondered if the Headless Horseman might be real after all.”
“You don’t think Samuel could have killed Brom? Maybe in revenge for whatever happened on the night he disappeared?”
For the first time, Katrina smiled and the radiance she exuded was almost enough to knock Mortimer back on his heels. “Oh, no! That’s quite impossible! Samuel abhorred violence and he was skinny as a rail. Brom was easily three times his size and all muscle. Samuel couldn’t have hurt Brom if he’d tried with all his might.”
“Surely you don’t think that some ghost did it.”
“I’ve heard stories about the Horseman my whole life,” Katrina said earnestly. “But I always assumed that they were nothing more than that — tales designed to scare little ones. But after Samuel vanished and Brom was killed, I didn’t know what else to think.”
“In my experience, there’s always a rational explanation for things like this. Though the townspeople may not want to hear it, it seems to me that the most likely explanation is that you have a killer amongst you, one who is using the legend of the Headless Horseman for his own benefit.”
“I hope you’re right, Mr. Quinn, because if that’s the case, then the man who did these things can be caught. I’m too young to be a widow but… I am. I want to know what happened to the two men that I loved.”
“She knows we’re going to speak to her father?”