Standing in line at your nearest Novadollars, you, Inspector Crane, spot the headlines of the New York Times in the hands of the nearest coffee drinker. It reads “HEADLESS HORSEMAN KILLS AGAIN!”

You reach over and snatch it from the unsuspecting reader, sipping his frape mocha-latte. He cries out but you are quick with the shushing hand.

Your keen eyes scan the article. According to the author, after Baltus Van Tassel’s death, two more victims fell to the Headless Horseman. Brandy Van Eyck a barmaid of the local Sleepy Hollow Tavern and Elijah Bloodgoode a traveling wig sales man.

Brandy, in order to spare herself jumped over the bridge and into the freezing waters below. She, a failed swimmer, never resurfaced.

Elijah, too startled to remain on his saddle, slipped off as he was being chased by the Headless Brute and was trampled by his own steed.

Smashing the newspaper together, you seethe and stomp your way to the Police Station. With the newspaper still clutched in your grip, you launch yourself into your sergeant’s office.

“I say!” you announce, startling everyone in the office. “I say! The delay in my release to purse the madness in Sleepy Hollow has gone on far enough!”

Your outburst is met with blank faces.

Leaning back, your sergeant extends his hand to the rather delicately dressed man to his right. “Inspector Crane-Washington Irving. Mr. Irving-here- is from the Governor’s office.”

Extending your own hand, you feel flushed. You had not expected someone so important to be in your boss’s office.

“We seem to be of the same mind, Inspector. This is good. Very good. I am told you are this department’s finest inspector. Sleepy Hollow will need your fine detecting pedigree,” Mr. Irving says in a stately manner.

You, feeling acknowledged and complimented, straighten your vest. “Well, three deaths is a matter that simply can not be ignored!” you reply with your best but subtle conviction.

“Not to correct you, Inspector, but four deaths. One occurred early this morning. A Jonas Hutchison. He was a trapper. Our man in Sleepy Hollow is still gathering the details as we speak,” Irving corrected.

You do your best not look shocked.

Leaning forward your sergeant folds his hands on his desk. “Mr. Irving has gracious extended the use of the Governor’s personal carriage for your trip north.”

Taking the cue from there, Mr. Irving nodded. “Aye. You and your Young Master Nesbeth are pack at once. We shall pick you both up in an hour’s time at your flat. The Governor is anguish to have this matter resolved.”

Nodding just once, you spin on your heel and exit. Signaling to Nesbeth, you meet to discuss the matter. Ever excited and ready to learn, Nesbeth nods along and is agreeable. Without wasting a moment, you both hurry from the station and ready your bags.

Just as Irving said, he and the Govenor’s carriage was waiting for you at flat in exactly one hour.

Giving the footman your bags, you see that Nesbeth is already situated in the carriage. Stepping forward, you greet Washington one final time. In his hands is file, thick with information. “Keep this close, Crane. Read it thoroughly. Trust no one. I mean, no-one! Our own man there feels as if death is breathing down his neck and he is not one to be stirred!”

Nodding with a seriousness that only you could ever know, you take the file from him and step inside in the carriage. Through the open window, he extends his hand to you. You shake it firmly.

Stepping back, Irving shouts, “May the good gracious of our Blessed Governor go with ye!”

Pleased to start your journey, you shout, “On, driver! On to Sleep Hollow!”