CHAPTER 11

For the next week Ichabod and Abbie spent their free time researching the history of Archibald Griswold. Unfortunately their research hadn't gone as expected, due to another mysterious death. This time the victim was a woman named Johanna Gray, a local real estate agent and mother of three. Like the others she too had drowned, but was found in her own kitchen. The pair sat at Abbie's kitchen table looking through files and eating Chinese food. Ichabod repeatedly flipped through the file of crime scene photos,
looking for any similarities in the cases.

"I just don't see how this woman could be a victim. Mrs. Gray seemed like a perfectly honorable woman who didn't have any enemies," Ichabod said.

"Neither did the students! None of this makes any sense," Abbie said as she looked down at her watch. "It's almost 4:30pm, Henri should've been here by now. He promised to bring new information from home."

Ichabod rolled his eyes and sighed. "Do you truly expect a vampire to keep his promises? As usual we will figure this out together, without Henri's assistance."

Abbie opened her mouth to speak but was interrupted by the blaring of a car horn. Abbie quickly walked to the kitchen window and looked outside. Of course it was Henri pulling up in his expensive foreign car and honking the horn so everyone would notice him. "Abbie I'm here," he shouted out the car window.

Ichabod walked to the front door to wait for Henri. While it would take a normal person almost a minute to walk to the door, it only took Henri a few seconds. "Hello friend. I smell Chinese food, in fact I smelt it a quarter of a mile away," Henri said.

"You are correct, Abbie and I are having Chinese food. You may come in, but you are not welcome to our food," Ichabod said sternly.

"Don't worry about me, I brought my own food," Henri said as he held up a plain brown paper bag. "Be a good friend and get Abbie, this is her home and I need her to invite me in."

"Fashionable late as always," Abbie said as she appeared beside Ichabod. She still didn't like the way her stomach fluttered when she was around Henri. For a moment she stared at him. As usual, he was dressed impeccably and carrying a leather brief case and a brown bag. "Come in Henri, we've got a lot of work to do."

Abbie's kitchen table was covered with even more papers and books. Henri kept his promise of bringing new information. Most of the information dealt with the life of Mr. Griswold. They spent the last hour looking through property records and personal journal entries. Mr. Griswold died alone, without a family. "How exactly did you know Mr. Griswold," Ichabod asked.

"He helped me find food when it was scarce. Archibald was actually a nice man and a good friend. If it wasn't for him, I probably would've starved to death or been killed by angry townspeople," Henri said softly.

Abbie raised an eyebrow. "By 'find food' you mean he helped you kill people. Yea, he sounds like a terrific guy."

"I can't help what I am Abbie. Yes, Archibald was a good man. He owned a boarding house," he said while pointing to the property records. "It was purchased back in 1898, and it was very profitable until 1915. I was once a resident myself."

"Well we need to find a connection between the students, Mrs. Gray, and Mr. Archibald. This house is nearly 120 years old and there are no previous recorded drownings on the property. The question we should be asking is why all of this is happening now," Ichabod stated.

"Crane's right. Something deeper is going on here. We have to get ahead of this somehow. There's going to be more victims if we don't stop who or what is causing all of this. I'm under a lot of pressure at work to find the killer, and the local news is obsessed with this story," Abbie said dejectedly.

Henri placed his brown paper bag on the table and pulled out two blood bags. The shock on Abbie's and Ichabod's faces was undeniable. "You have got to be kidding me," Abbie shouted.

"What? I'm hungry and this is how I eat. You seriously don't expect me to sit here and watch you two stuff your faces while I go hungry. If you don't like my donated blood, perhaps you would prefer me to have your neighbors for lunch," he asked as he poured the blood into a mug. "I'm going to heat this up. Abbie, keep looking for anything important."

While Henri glided to the microwave, Abbie opened her computer and began looking up recent real estate listings. "Crane look," she said as she pointed to the screen. "I found Mrs. Gray's profile, it shows all the homes she sold in the last five years."

Henri walked back to the table, carefully holding a mug. "Let me guess, she was the real estate agent that sold Mr. Griswold's old house."

"Leftenant, search the county property records. We must find out who owns this home," Ichabod said sternly.

Abbie typed as fast as her fingers could move. After clicking through multiple pages of search results she finally found the current owner. "Kevin Brown purchased the house six months ago and started renting it out to college students. Apparently this is one of four investment properties. I wish I had his kind of money."

"This man will more than likely become a victim if we do not warm him," Ichabod said.

"What are we supposed to say to him Crane? Should be tell him that he's going to drown, away from water! We need to get into contact with him as soon as possible. More importantly we need to find out whom or what is killing people. I don't know, maybe this house is haunted. It's an old house, someone was probably murdered here," Abbie said as she frantically flipped through her files.

Henri licked his bloodstained lips and laughed. "Plenty of people died in that house, and of course some of them were murdered. In fact I have a ledger of all the residents that rented rooms in 1915."

"Of course you do," Abbie said sarcastically.

"I'm serious, Archibald gave it to me three weeks before he died. He seemed adamant about getting the ledger out of the house. Honestly I didn't ask any questions, after all I left town for Switzerland the next day. Poor fellow was pale and sickly looking the last time I saw him. He was always very lively, but he had turned into a recluse and became increasingly paranoid," Henri stated.

Ichabod turned to Henri, annoyed by story. "Henri, where is this ledger that you claim to possess?"

"It's at my house, of course. Along with a file of city construction permits I've complied. I think you'll find them very interesting," Henri smiled.

Abbie was furious. She quickly snatched the mug from Henri's hands and poured the blood into the sink. "That's what you get for withholding information! Crane and I have been working this case forever, while you conveniently leave important details at home! I knew it was a mistake working with you."

Henri leaned back in his chair, not bothered by Abbie's actions. "I forgive you sweet Abbie, I can always find a fresher source of food. I had my reasons for not giving you all the information upfront. Believe it or not, I actually like being around you and Ichabod. If I gave you everything, I wouldn't have a reason to invite you to my home. Trust me Abbie you'll love my home. And Ichabod, you'll enjoy it as well."

"Give us one good reason why we should trust you," Ichabod shouted.

"Because, coming to my home is the only way you'll find out who is responsible for the murders. I was up all night, like always, working on a theory and I even have a few suspects! This is all very exciting to me. I've been obsessed with murder mysteries since I first read the Sherlock Holmes novels in 1887," Henri explained proudly.

"Stop talking, I've heard enough," Abbie snapped. "When do you want us to come over?"

A bright smile appeared on Henri's face. "I'll text you the address and time right now! Do me a favor and bring your own food. I haven't cooked in centuries, I'm not even sure I even remember how to feed humans."