The Lady From Sleepy Hollow

Ichabod

It is a dark, cold night of the year 1799 here in the city of New York as I kneel on the docks, peering warily into the Hudson River.

I know there had been something here. Or, what could have been a 'someone'. All the signs are here. There are scuffs from only one pair of shoes on the dock planks, showing almost no sign of struggle, as if a person was carrying something extremely heavy. A trace of chipped wood and blood on the edge of the dock, clearly that heavy object being dropped with force into the water... something had happened here.

I poke a stick from nearby into the water, stirring up the murk. I instinctively lean away, perturbed with the sight.

I lift my alarm bell with my right hand, ringing it rapidly, loud and clear, it's metal-clanging echoing against the empty cobblestone streets and buildings, breaking any form of silence.

Still ringing the bell, I call out, "Help ​here...! Lend a hand here! Anyone!"

I hear two pairs of rushing footsteps approaching, knowing it is my kin of constables by the clacks of the familiar uniformed shoes we constables of New York all wear. I tilt my head toward the two constables hurrying around the corner, not daring to let my eyes leave the water below. The constables' steps cease slowly, their shoes clicking on the cobblestone.

​"Constable Crane? Ichabod Crane is that you?" one of the men call to me from afar.

I tilt my head toward them slightly, lifting my eyes briefly to them and reply loud and clear, "None other."

I say a little quieter, "Not only me..."

Just then, a bloated corpse floats up, and I am immediately put to unease, opening my mouth to gasp silently. "I have found something, ​which was lately a... a man."

I stand up and step away, finally looking at the two policemen. They come to my side and peer down at the paled, bloated corpse and begin pulling it out of the murk.

Sighing in disgust, I keep away from the two, shaken and a bit unnerved at the sight of the corpse's unnaturally bloated form. Despite being a constable inspector, dead bodies never cease to disturb me. But, I am the best deductive in the yard, with my scientific reasonings as my main ally.

The two carry the body over to a nearby wheelbarrow and heave the dead man onto it. I pull out my handkerchief and hold it over my nose, the foul smell daring to make me faint of heart. I follow them in hot pursuit, although, as the second constable wheels him to the jail watchhouse.

The jail watchhouse is a dank, cavernous room, which I ironically despise having to work in. I would rather have a clean operating room for my work, but I don't have the right to such a luxury.

The first, taller constable, who had called out to me, stands aside as the second, shorter one wheels the body in, pausing before the higher-up constable, awaiting instructions. I stand next to the first constable as I watch.

The high constable takes one glance at the body and orders coldly, "Burn it."

​​The shorter constable grins at that and replies proudly, "Yes, sir."

He wheels the corpse away down a ramp to the incinerator, the first constable following behind.

​​But we don't know much of how the man died! I think. He could've been killed then cast to the river, a victim of murder!

I step after the two, but falter in my stride. I look up at the high constable and prompt, "Just a moment, if I may. We do not yet know the cause of death."

​​He picks up a ring of keys from the key box, pausing to look at me with blunt incredulity. "When you find 'em in the river, cause of death is drowning."

​​I hear the two constables below shout something, tearing my attention away from the high constable. I face him again and say confidently, "Possibly so, if there is water in the lungs, but by pathology, we might determine whether or not he was dead before he went into the river."

The high constable places a hand atop the key box and leans on it, placing his other hand upon his waist in skepticism, staring at me with a disbelieving look. I demand politely, "I will need to examine the body."

​​He nearly seems amused with my scientific implication, scoffing, "Cut him up. Are we heathens?"

I am just about to protest again, but a loud, agonized groan echoes through the room, and our attention snaps to the source. I am interrupted by two other thuggish constables dragging a bleeding semi-conscious man in. I back away quickly, pressing my back against the podium in alarm.

​​The high constable asks them in a half-interested tone, "What happened to him?"

​​One of the thuggish men answers with a smirk, "Nothing, sir. Arrested for burglary."

The high constable nods in careless understanding, then nods his head toward the jail cells in gesture to lock him up. I watch them in complete dismay as they discreetly abuse the already-hurt man. I gasp silently as they drop him into a cell and slam the cage door shut. My eyes widen at the sight, and my lips part in shock.

​​The high constable mutters to them after they begin to leave the building, swinging his keys, "Good work..."

I swallow down my uneasiness and glance at him, a bit annoyed with his carelessness in the vitality of these prisoners and corpses. I then scan down the ramp to the incinerator room, and I hurry to follow my two constables and the corpse.

I manage to get to the corpse before they throw it to the flames. I tell them to leave and they roll their eyes, sauntering out and grumbling, mocking my sense and reason. I ignore them, and inspect the body closely.

It's unsettling for me to do, to say the least, but this is extremely important.