City life with in my company only sat well with Katrina for a short while…city life with the son of a very wealthy, well-known aristocrat, however…well, that's another story.
Yes, my heart was broken. Katrina's only true interest in me seemed to be passage out of Sleepy Hollow – can one truly blame her? As much as my heart ached, I understood that I was not able to keep something that desired to be free.
Where did this leave me? Immersed in my work. As long as I was no longer required to chase after a supernatural being, I could tolerate my newly loveless day-to-day life. My thoughts, however, never strayed far from Katrina. I thought that she was destined to be my love. Bewitchment – that is all any of it was. Yes, Katrina, I do think you wicked.
Young Masbath, who shall herein be referred to by his first name, Jonathan, remained with me, assisting me in my work however he could. This was fine with those that ranked higher than I, as they did not wish to accompany me to a murder site if it could be helped. I appreciated his company greatly.
It was midmorning when he knocked on the door to my office. It was the day that affected my life more than any headless horseman ever could. For better…or worse.
"Come in," I called out through the closed door. When the door opened, Jonathan was on the other side.
"A woman to see you," he said.
"A woman?"
"Yes, sir. She says she's in need of your help."
"Show her in." He did as I asked, escorting a woman, whose beauty could have possessed any man, into my office. Katrina was a mere child in comparison.
"Good morning, Constable Crane," she said, her voice soft and somewhat pained.
"Good morning," I replied, my eyes refusing to tear themselves from her.
"My name is Victoria Wintergrace. I do hope I'm not disrupting you."
"Not at all." Hair darker than mine fell down her back in soft tendrils and she possessed green eyes more brilliant than any jewel. My heart began to beat at a pace that it hadn't since Katrina had first kissed me – yet I was several feet away from this woman with no hope of physical contact. "How may I assist you?"
"My father," she began, her hands entangling in the top layer of her skirts, "I believe he has been murdered."
I swallowed harder than I intended. "What leads you to believe this, Miss Wintergrace?"
"Mrs. Wintergrace," she said reluctantly.
"Apologies."
She nodded in acceptance before saying, "My father, Phillip Dearborne, is missing and has been for several days. People believe that he has taken a mistress and…" He voice trailed off.
"You believe otherwise?"
Her voice was now almost frantic. "Yes. My father has not courted a woman since my mother's passing. He would not run off with anyone, Constable Crane, he is not that sort of man."
Trying to think as logically as I could, I asked, "Do you believe that anyone would wish harm upon your father?"
"May I sit, Constable Crane?"
"Oh, of course." My manners had abandoned me and I felt my face redden at that realization. I pulled a chair closer to my desk and motioned for her to sit. "Forgive me, my mind does not seem to wish to cooperate with me today."
"I've had those days myself, Constable." She sat down and, while doing so, the sleeve of her dress lifted slightly. Just above her wrist, four bruises marred her porcelain skin. I did not need to ask what they were, as I knew from my work that they hand come from someone's hand.
"Perhaps there is someone that you specifically suspect of your father's disappearance?"
She realized that I had seen her bruises and tugged at her sleeve. "No, there is no one. My father is a wealthy man, Constable, the only person who stood to gain anything from his death would be my brother…he passed away last fall."
"Do you not stand to inherit then?" I asked, wondering if this dark beauty could possibly have ill motives.
"I do not, sir. My father arranged for me to marry a man who…has his own wealth. Should my father pass on without an heir, which he no longer possesses, his estate was to be divided among several charities. My father is a good man."
I watched as a tear ran down her cheek and wanted nothing more than to wipe it away. I had to settle for asking yet another question. "When was the last time you saw your father?"
"Three days ago."
"Was he in good health?"
"Perfect."
"And no female companionship whatsoever?"
"He made a vow to my mother," she said solemnly. "Even after her death, he refused to break it. Constable, can you help me?"
I had nothing to go on, aside from this woman's fears, yet I could not turn her away. "I shall do all I can for you Mrs. Wintergrace. Please leave your address with Jonathan and should I find anything, you will be contacted immediately."
An exhausted smile crossed her full lips. "Thank you, Constable Crane." She rose from the chair, her bruises flashing into view for another brief moment, then left my office.
Thinking of my experience in Sleepy Hollow, I knew immediately that I would need a copy of the will…greed, it seemed, always caused unfortunate circumstances.