occhi_bella (occhi_bella) wrote in story_arc, @ 2007-09-02 21:56:00 |
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Current mood: | creative |
Entry tags: | fifteen set 03, ichabod crane, occhi_bella, sleepy hollow |
FIC Aftermath - Chapter 7
Cross-posted to occhi_bella and unknown_fandom.
Title: Aftermath
Author: occhi_bella
story_arc Set: 15-03
story_arc Theme: Lies (5-01, #5)
Fandom: Sleepy Hollow (movie)
Character: Ichabod Crane
Rated: M
Warning: Non-explicit implications of rape and incest. Spoilers
Disclaimer: Sleepy Hollow and its characters do not belong to me. I make no money from this.
Link to Story Archive and All Chapters
Summary: Ichabod departs for New York with Katrina and Young Masbath, but their journey is delayed by unexpected complications. Picks up at the part where the Hessian disappears into the Tree of the Dead for the last time with Lady Van Tassel.
Van Ripper had stayed up all night looking after Stephen. Ichabod headed down the hall now to take his place and allow him to sleep. He would review his notes while keeping the boy company and make a list of specific questions for Mr. McKinley.
He was about to enter Stephen’s room when he heard the creaking of floorboards above his head. Someone was lurking about upstairs. Pushing aside the fear that welled up inside of him at the thought of his last encounter there he ascended the stairs to the third floor once again. He found James McKinley standing in the hallway, paused uncertainly before one of the doors. To the same room. Perhaps he wasn’t imagining the noises he heard that night.
“Mr. McKinley?”
He turned and walked toward him, nodding. “Constable Crane.”
“Who lives in that room?”
“No one. There is no one living here besides me, Constable.”
He brushed past Ichabod quickly and hurried away. But Ichabod refused to let him go, dogging his footsteps and following him down the stairs, to the ground floor.
“Mr. McKinley, I must speak with you. There are many strange things going on here…”
They reached the tavern and McKinley kept his back to Ichabod, busying himself with putting his boots on.
“I have to step out in a few moments, sir…”
“Mr. McKinley…”
“Leave me alone.”
“Not until you answer some questions. Stephen is very ill and has been acting oddly. The other night he might have died if I hadn’t been with him. He was sleepwalking outside and threw himself into the stream. I believe that both his illness and his strange behavior are somehow connected to…whatever it is that is happening in this town, possibly in this house. And I believe that you know…”
“It would be best for you to stay out of it, Constable.”
“I cannot. The other night you knew that Mrs. Crane and I were in the kitchen, that when she left to go upstairs I remained there. When you and the others were conversing about me, about the boy, about…her, you knew that I could hear you. And I believe that is what you wanted. You didn’t want the others to accuse you of involving an outsider in your affairs, but you wanted me to hear, and to become involved.”
James McKinley stopped in his tracks and turned to face him. He opened his mouth to deny it, but no words came out.
“Whatever is going on, I will get to the bottom of it, if only for Stephen’s sake. But perhaps I can help you with whatever dilemma you have, if you will let me. Now you must tell me what you know.”
He hesitated.
“What about the Jenners?” Ichabod asked abruptly, wanting to gauge McKinley’s reaction to the name as well as gather facts about them.
He was not disappointed. The man’s face blanched.
“That family seems to have had much importance in this town. Did they live in this house before?”
“Yes.”
“What about Emily?” he pressed insistently. “Is that who you were all speaking of the night I overheard you? When you said you needed to worry about her…you meant Emily.”
He nodded.
“Where is she?”
“No one has seen her in almost a year. We don’t know what happened to her. She is presumed dead.”
“Then, she wasn’t sent away to a distant relative when her mother died?”
“No.”
“What happened to this family? When I went to the cemetery to find Stephen, he was lying across Abigail Jenner’s grave. I discovered from the gravestone that she was Emily’s mother and that she died just two weeks after her father and stepmother. And that Mark Jenner and his second wife Edna both died on the same day.”
“Yes. They were murdered at around the same time of day as well.”
“Murdered? How? By whom?”
“A stranger passed through town around that time. He was gone before anything could be done, but we suspected him.”
“Who was he? And for what reason would he have killed them?”
McKinley shrugged.
“But Abigail died two weeks later. How did she die?”
“She…was probably killed also.”
“Was that stranger still here at the time?”
“Yes. He is our prime suspect for her murder as well.”
Ichabod pursed his lips into a thin line. A theory that this stranger was the assassin was flimsy at best.
“I cannot believe that. It must have been someone in town, not this stranger you speak of. Why would a perfect stranger kill two people on one day and wait around for two weeks so he could possibly get caught before finally killing the next person? Did he know the Jenners? If not, what motive could he have for killing an entire family? He would have to be insane, committing murder for its own sake. And what of Emily? What is the theory regarding her disappearance? Also this stranger?”
“You are clearly skilled at your job, Constable.” McKinley raked a hand through his hair nervously. “Emily simply disappeared one day and her body was never found. There is no explanation or even a theory.”
They both lapsed into silence. Ichabod regarded him somberly as he reflected on the tragic disappearance of such a young girl.
“Is there anyone else you can think of that might have had motive…?” He trailed off when he saw McKinley’s face fall, his shoulders sag. He’d hit a nerve. “That stranger really isn’t a true suspect, is he? More of a scapegoat, I would say. There is something else going on. Mr. McKinley, if you want my assistance you must be truthful with me.”
“No one can know that I am helping you, Constable Crane. The town is already buried in shame. They are reluctant for outsiders to know of it.”
“Is the Jenner family what you were speaking of…when you said that you were all to blame? What is it…?”
“Let’s go into the kitchen in the back. Someone may walk in on us here.”
He followed McKinley to the kitchen and took a seat at the table, wondering what shame might have befallen this place. What had these people done?
“You’re right. The Jenners were the richest, most prominent family in our town, and Mark Jenner was the leading citizen. They lived in this house. Mark Jenner had made out a will, of course, leaving everything to Abigail. He remarried about five years after Sarah passed on. Edna Keigher, a woman very close in age to him and an old maid until she finally married him. She was fifty years old. They never had children of their own, of course. About twelve years ago, Abigail became pregnant out of wedlock. Mark Jenner was outraged at the scandal she caused and tried to force her to terminate the pregnancy. She wouldn’t do it, nor would she leave town when he tried to send her away.”
“Then, Abigail and Emily continued to live in this house with Mark and Edna Jenner?”
“Yes. But there was constant quarreling here. About two years ago, Mark Jenner brought a lawyer up from New York. He changed his will, leaving everything to Edna.”
“Ah, yes, I heard someone mention the lawyer from New York.”
Ichabod drifted into thought for a moment, mulling over what James McKinley had told him thus far. If Mark Jenner had changed his will, that gave Abigail motive to kill him and Edna. As the next of kin, she would then regain the fortune. But that didn’t explain her murder. The next person in line would be Emily; and he could hardly believe that a girl of ten or eleven, as she would have been at the time, could be capable of killing her own mother.
“How were the Jenners murdered?”
McKinley lowered his eyes and he suddenly looked very ill. “Mark and Edna were…killed with an ax.”
“What?” Ichabod gasped.
“The murderer chopped them up with an ax.” His head dropped and he buried his face in his hands. “It was horrible. Especially him. His face…was hacked in two. There was blood and…brain matter…everywhere.”
“Oh, my…God…”
Ichabod closed his eyes and gripped the edge of the table, attempting to steady himself as queasiness set in and the world began to blur around him.
“And…Abigail?” he asked breathlessly, managing to regain his composure somewhat.
“She died two weeks later, in her sleep. Dr. Thompson thought the cause may have been poison.”
“Was the body examined afterward?”
“Examined? Good God, no! The poor woman was buried and left to rest in peace. But Thomas Cleary, our apothecary, claims that she purchased arsenic from him a few days before her death. Dr. Thompson believes that she took a large enough dose to poison herself. Suicide.”
“I see.”
If Abigail had killed her parents in order to gain her father’s fortune, for what reason would she then end her own life? Was it unexpected guilt that drove her to suicide? Or was she fearful that her guilt had already been discovered? And why did she murder in such a drastic, violent manner? It was shocking, horrifying, and the idea that a woman was capable of it was inconceivable. Besides, she could have easily used arsenic on them and no one would have known the difference. No examination would have been done. Both Mark and Edna Jenner were advanced in age; the deaths might have been written off as natural deaths, or food poisoning, or any such tragic yet perfectly innocent causes.
The method pointed to such unleashed rage in the assassin, he couldn’t begin to fathom it. This was not an intelligent murder and chances were it wasn’t premeditated. It was much more likely that the assailant had acted in a state of blind rage.
“Emily disappeared around that time,” James McKinley continued.
“You said that you need to worry about her. Why?”
“A couple of weeks after Emily disappeared, we heard noises coming from one of the rooms on the third floor. But when we went in to look, no one was there. The sounds persisted for a few months, then stopped as suddenly as they had started. We thought she…whatever it was…had gone until I heard your boy mention her name. Somehow he has seen her and spoken to her.”
“Yes.” Ichabod shuddered. “That room at the end of the hall. I thought I heard…”
He shrugged off his jitters, determined to concentrate on finding facts.
“What about you, Mr. McKinley? What is your connection to the Jenners? You must have one, since you continue to live here and have opened up this tavern.”
“I worked for them. And…” he trailed off and stared at his hands, lacing and unlacing his fingers nervously. “Abigail and I were…we were lovers for a short time.”
“Forgive my asking, but under the circumstances I must. Are you Emily’s father?”
“No. As children…teenagers…we met secretly. Then, after Emily was already born we began to spend time together again. We were good friends.”
“I see. And how did you come to own this place?”
“The town owns it now since no kith or kin ever came forward to stake a claim on the Jenner property. I rented space from them so I could open up this tavern. Originally I intended to open an inn as well and buy the building once I had made enough money. But then after the noises…well, I figured no one would want to stay here. And maybe it’s just as well. We’re off the beaten path and have nowhere near the amount of visitors that we predicted we might have some day. If you hadn’t been caught in the blizzard you wouldn’t be here either.”
“I will need the names of everyone in this town, starting with its elders.”
“Sir, they cannot know…”
“Yes. That is why I will need to obtain that information from you, as well as each person’s connection to the Jenners. If I am to keep this confidential I shall not be able to interview them myself.”
“I will provide you with as much information as I can.”
“And…” Ichabod swallowed nervously. “I would like to go into that room on the third floor and look around. In fact, if you don’t mind, I believe I should see all of the rooms.”