🕑 Added 2015-06-11 01:49:36 +0000 UTC
Testimonial Two: Baltus Van Tassel
Shortly after my interview with Van Ripper, I realized the faux pas I had committed by seeking other testimony before speaking with my host and sought to rectify it. Immediately, I made my way back through town and onto the sprawling Van Tassel farmstead. I knocked politely on the front door and waited patiently for a few moments until Baltus Van Tassel opened it, the large bald patch atop his head shining in the midday sun.
"Ah, Mister Crane! Welcome back! Already hard at work, are you?"
Baltus Van Tassel would best be described as an English gentleman, dressed in the latest fashion and completely clean-shaven. He had the sort of relaxed, phlegmatic humor appropriate to a man of his age — devoid of the passions and trappings of youth, but not yet at the stage of rigidity common of a man in his twilight years. If he could be said to be passionate about anything, then it would be his good manners, and he clung to them not with fervor, but with the flexible leash of an iron chain.
Perhaps, then, it was only natural that he was not in the least offended by my mistake.
"Ah, yes, sir, my apologies for not coming to you, first —"
"Tis no trouble, no trouble at all. Come in, come in, I just finished making tea."
I made polite conversation with Baltus as he led me to the parlor and into a plush armchair, and though it made me somewhat uncomfortable, I didn't protest as he poured me a cup of fine English tea, which I was sure was saved specifically for times when he entertained a guest. For a few moments, as I sipped slowly at what I was sure was one of the most delicious teas I had ever tasted, we discussed nothing of importance — small talk was something English high society had perfected quite a long time ago.
Finally, I set my cup down and, perhaps a tad abruptly, changed the subject.
"Mister Van Tassel, if we might move on to the reason of my visit?"
"Yes, of course. Er, to whom have you already spoken, Mister Crane?"
"Hans Van Ripper — he was very forthcoming, but he wasn't able to tell me overmuch."
I didn't divulge exactly what Van Ripper had told me, and I still felt the chill that had swept down my spine when Van Ripper described the sound this ghost made. It wasn't relevant, either way, so I had no qualms with remaining silent about it. Besides, the less I said, the less others' testimonies might influence those I spoke to; keeping to myself the details of each interview would make the people I talked to more honest.
Something of a smile pulled at Baltus' lips.
"Ah, that surly old farmer. You must be quite persuasive, Mister Crane, to have convinced him to speak with you."
"I would like to think so, yes. Though he wasn't able to tell me much, what he did tell me was rather useful."
"I imagine so. Old Van Ripper might be uncooperative, but if you can convince him to talk, then he's nothing if not honest. Perhaps brutally so."
"Yes, quite. He did not see the specter for himself, however, so perhaps you might be able to shed some more light on what exactly is haunting Sleepy Hollow."
"Well, I don't imagine you'll meet anyone in Sleepy Hollow who has actually seen the beast — unless, of course, you are capable of speaking with the dead. Otherwise, I'm afraid any accounts on what it is that plagues this town will be limited entirely to hearsay and ghost stories."
"Then no one has physically witnessed this creature?"
"No, not at all. I imagine this will make your job all the harder, Mister Crane, but other than a few stories like those you might have heard from Hans Van Ripper, the only evidence we have that this ghost exists at all are the bodies it leaves behind in the morning — missing their heads, but otherwise untouched."
"Their heads?"
"In fact, some of us aren't entirely convinced it's a ghost at all, rather than a regular murderer hiding amongst the populace. Sleepy Hollow is practically split in two along that very issue — those who believe it a ghost, and those who believe it a hoax. The only real problem with the idea of a hoax is the apparent lack of connection between the victims, other than the time at which they died."
"The time at which they died? Did they all die at the same time, then?"
"No, no, not at all. They were all simply out in the middle of the night, for one reason or another, and got caught up in…whatever-it-was that killed them."
"And you say that there was nothing which connected them to one another, aside this?"
"None. Some of them might have been rather well-acquainted, but on the overall, most of them would have known the others only through Sunday Mass. There was no apparent rhyme or reason why any single one of these poor people was targeted, only that it was a dark and cloudy night each time. Otherwise, the pattern seems to me to have been entirely random."
"I see."
I was by no means an expert in the law, secular or ecclesiastical, but despite my ignorance, I could determine that this case before me was indeed very peculiar. I would not pretend to understand the mind of a criminal and murderer, but it only made sense to me that such a murderer would still have a sort of logic, however twisted and depraved, to his actions and choices. There was a pattern to be had in the contrivances of any mortal mind.
But a ghost was another matter, especially a poltergeist. The reasoning of such a creature could not be discerned by the living — not, at least, without understanding its history, who it was before it became a ghost. In that case, the random pattern could indeed be random, for a ghost as disjointed as a poltergeist would ever be in pursuit of a myriad of obsessions.
Still, something rankled with my theory. A poltergeist could attack the living, yes, but I'd yet to hear of one capable of enough strength to commit murder.
"Is there anything else you might be able to tell me? You said that Sleepy Hollow was divided on the issue of what, exactly, is committing these horrible crimes, but you've yet to clarify which side you yourself have chosen."
"To be perfectly honest, Mister Crane, I'm not rightly sure. I will freely admit that I can think of no man in this town of ours — and I know nearly all of them — who would do such a thing as this. However, I must also admit that I have never seen such a thing before, and I've lived my entire life here. It is very difficult to put stock in ghosts when I've yet to actually encounter one. The only reason an exorcist such as yourself was even called was because our local pastor insisted."
"I see. Then, if you have any suggestions…?"
"The only advice I can give you is that you continue as you have been. Talk with the townsfolk. Hear both sides of the divide and structure your decisions appropriately. If, at the end of it all, you decide that it is indeed a ghost that haunts our nights, then by all means, exorcise it. If, instead, you decide it is nothing more than a hoax, then we will see about contacting the proper authorities to investigate it. Either way, Mister Crane, you will have nothing but our gratitude, because it doesn't matter how the problem is solved, only that it is, in the end, solved."
"Of course."
Shortly thereafter, I exchanged pleasantries again and left. The sun above was fast approaching its zenith, and as I stepped back out into the open air, I decided that the first thing I would do was seek out the local tavern and eat lunch. Then, I would head down to the undertaker and find as much information as possible about the victims, including the state of the bodies left behind. If luck was in my favor, perhaps some clue still remained in those corpses that might tell me exactly what it was with which I was dealing.
Something was afoot in Sleepy Hollow, and it was now my job to determine what.
