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[malleusveritatis]

The dead cannot hide the truth.

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[malleusveritatis]

{The lean silhouette of a man flinches like a squirrel at the sudden voice, sending a yelp that echoes through the trees surrounding him. Er, them?

Ichabod looks practically offended to find someone lingering in the tree above him, as if this had been some practical joke, but a firm swallow and the flattening of his coat against his torso has the constable collecting his unsettled nerves.}

It's quite the crime to commit, one might say, but it at least provided the late miss Dempsey with a scenic resting place.

{Forgive Ichabod if he appears to be flippant; he's still waiting for his pulse to simmer down.}