The Sleepy Hollow Mystery

By J.O. Phael

Aneurin is a former New York City star, who gives up his rising fame to move back home. Hopper is the local historian and eccentric, who runs the town bookstore. Together, they run the local theatre group's annual reenactment of The Legend of sleepy Hollow. This year, they have something special planned, an interactive show that will move the audience around the village. However, during the last dress rehearsal, the two men find that their headless corpse on the Headless Horseman bridge prop has been switched for a real person.

With the police looking into the theatre troupe for the murder, Aneurin and Hopper decide their best bet is to investigate on their own. Together with Penelope Winters, the village witch, the two men must hunt down the murderer before becoming his next victims. Surrounded by witchcraft, mystery, and misdirection, the two men also find themselves falling in love.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Spring Horton
• Release date: Aug 1, 2020
• ISBN: 9781005435417

Book preview

The Sleepy Hollow Mystery

By

J. O. Phael

Copyright 2020 J.O. Phael

Smashwords Edition

Chapter One

Angry clouds began to build in the sky, while a crisp wind blew freshly fallen autumn leaves. They swirled around the feet of the mourners, standing solemnly outside the Old Dutch Reformed Church, hats in hand. Women sniffed into their kerchiefs, scarves and bonnets meant to keep the wind from their hair, having a hard time staying in place. Men held top hats in their gloved hands and comforted the women folk. Despite the beauty of the red and gold leafed trees, or the small river that wound its way through town, it was a sad day in Sleepy Hollow. Mysterious events had been taking place, and now, a death. The small crowd turned its eyes toward the road as a long, black carriage pulled up on the road beside the church.

The group of mourners were so quiet that the only thing that could be heard was the rustling of leaves and horse hooves as the driver got down from the carriage and settled his team. He nodded toward the crowd, taking off his hat in respect, and then setting it back on his head, he and his assistants opened the carriage and slid out a long, black casket. Suddenly, a wail rent the air, and one of the women burst into tears. A lady friend, and one of the men had to steady her to keep her from falling to the consecrated ground. Among the crowd was a younger man, perhaps thirty-five, who stood a small distance away from the others and looked on. He held his hands behind his back, and looked each of the mourners over, gauging their reactions, and wondering how they truly felt about the deceased. He was the town doctor, the one who’d tended to the fatal wounds of the man now occupying the black casket.

The man, of average height and build, nodded at the undertaker as he and his pall bearers drew near the church. Woodlake, he said, his voice low and gravely.

Doctor, the man replied.

Before the procession could get any further, though, a voice screamed out from the road below. Murder! it yelled, and the entire funeral crowd turned in surprise. The undertaker almost dropped his corner of the casket, so the doctor rushed over to help him hold it up.

Did he say murder? Woodlake breathed.

I believe so, the doctor replied and turned back to see a man on a horse, galloping wildly up the road. When he yelled out again, the doctor nodded and narrowed oddly colored eyes. The right one was a dark, greenish-blue, and while the left had the same basic color, there was also a patch of brown around his pupil. Can you handle this now? he asked Woodlake, and when the undertaker nodded, he stepped out of the crowd, along with another man, and marched down the hill to meet the madman on the horse.

The other man caught up with him. He was similarly dressed in his own top hat, small round glasses, and an enormous cravat. His suit and cravat reflected his position as the mayor of Sleepy Hollow. He and the doctor nodded at one another, and then slowed the horse and tried to calm the man.

What are you going on about, Evans? the mayor demanded as the rest of the crowd inched down the hill toward the road.

The young farmer caught his breath and then nodded back the way he came. I saw it, sir, the body. There’s been another murder!

A gasp went through the crowd, but before the mayor could turn and try to keep the piece, another sound interrupted him...the sound of a ringing cellphone. Everyone sighed and a murmur of annoyance went through the crowd. The mayor, who wasn’t actually Sleepy Hollow’s mayor and whose real name was Hopper, dropped the horse’s reins and shook his head.

You’re supposed to turn your phone off, Karen, he yelled over to the crowd, knowing exactly where the noise had come from because it was the same place it did every day.

Yeah, sorry Hopper, a young woman yelled back, though she sounded anything but apologetic.

Behind him, the doctor, who was most definitely not a doctor, and whose real name was Aneurin, was quietly chuckling. Hopper turned and narrowed his own, brown eyes.

Maybe now would be a good time for a break, Aneurin suggested to try and ease the tension in the air. I mean, other than Karen’s phone, everyone’s doing really well, and we have plenty of time to polish up the little details. He gave Hopper a little wink, and then added, Pub?

Oh, alright, Hopper sighed, and then waved for everyone to join them. We still need to work on the next scene before we break for the evening, though.

Of course we do, Aneurin said with a grin, and then slapped him on the back.

It was the beginning of October and the entire month was taken up with scary reenactments, cemetery tours, haunted hay rides, and of course, productions of the Washington Irving play that started it all. Halloween wasn’t just a day in Sleepy Hollow, it was an entire season in of itself. This particular group of actors, led by Hopper, the town librarian and historian, was doing a modified version of The Legend of Sleepy Hollow, and instead of staging it, were using the town itself as a backdrop. He liked to say it was a moving feast, only it was a play.

Aneurin led the procession to the pub, which wasn’t difficult considering, like Hopper, he’d been born and raised there, and just happened to work at the pub. It was a large, family style place, with a bar that ran the entire length of the room, and lots of comfortable seating. It was traditional New England fare, like everything else in town, and had a fireplace in the back, and didn’t drown the patrons out with loud music. It was part of the reason everyone loved it, especially the old timers, and in the end, got loud enough with talking most of the time to drown everything out anyway. It was early in the evening when the group walked in, so that none but the regulars had shown up yet. A few of them didn’t look happy to see the group of actors, but they only grumbled to themselves.

As Aneurin and the group passed the bar, there was suddenly a cheer, and he waved and cheered back. He was the most popular bartender at the pub. Not only did he make good drinks, he also always gave a good show. Performing was in Aneurin’s blood, the only thing he’d ever wanted to do with his life. On the other side of the bar, Hopper watched and rolled his eyes. The library wasn’t exactly where Aneurin spent most of his free time, and Hopper had originally been from a few towns over, so the two of them had never really gotten to know each other. The librarian would have preferred to hire someone else, if he was being honest with himself, but he couldn’t argue with the fact that Aneurin was the best young actor in town. On top of that, he seemed to inhabit the part; the top hat, the waistcoat, all of it fit him as if he wore it every day. Well, for a good deal of the year, especially the autumn, he did, but if Hopper didn’t know any better, he would have believed it was 1885.

Hopper glanced away from the frivolity at the other end of the bar, startled to realize he’d been staring at the man. Aneurin wasn’t even that much younger than him, but he seemed to fit in with the younger crowd like he was still one of them. The librarian caught the attention of the only bartender that wasn’t lost in the acting troupe’s antics and ordered a gin and tonic. He’d considered ordering something non-alcoholic, but the laughter and chatting of his actors, on top of the looming deadline to get the play put together, had started a headache behind his right eyeball. He sipped at his drink when it came, rubbing his eyes, and sighing when another round of laughter started up.

You feeling alright there, Hopper? he heard a voice say beside him.

He glanced up to see Aneurin leaning against the bar next to him. The man smiled a sideways grin at him, and Hopper couldn’t tell if he was being cheeky or actually cared how he was doing. He smiled back, weakly.

He held up his glass and quipped, I will be.

You know, you can join us, if you like. We don’t bite.

Look, Aneurin...

Why don’t you call me Nye? Everyone else does.

Hopper looked up into the man’s heterochromatic eyes, and after a moment, nodded. Fine, Nye. I’m not really that much of a socializer.

Aneurin chuckled and nodded. So, I’ve noticed. Whatever floats your boat, as they say. The invitation stands, you know, if you ever want to join us. He tipped his top hat, and then realized he shouldn’t have had it on in the first place and gave the librarian a guilty look. Then he took it off, revealing a mop of black curly hair, and bowed as he backed away back toward the other side of the bar.

As he turned away, Hopper suddenly blurted out, "Actually, I kind of prefer