Epilogue: Walking Dead Man


    Leaflow still sat on the bench, green eyes glowing with a thoughtful, bluish tint. He had one hand propping up his chin… or where his chin should have been in the dark hood. Sheriff Costwhile uncrossed his legs and stood up, stretching.


    “Quite a story for a dead man. But it won’t hold water, I’m afraid. Whole thing’s ridiculous. And the largest hole in the plot is this: the murderers of ‘the Duke’ and his poor old servant, whom you call a witch, were already caught. Butcher Bill’s gang of bandits attacked the tower, killed all of the guards and murdered the owner of the place. They looted the tower, tried to escape with the goods and were caught. There was a shootout: most of the gang were killed. Survivors admitted to the robbery.”


    “But to the murder of the Duke?” Leaflow’s gaze came up to meet the Sheriff’s.


    Costwhile shook his head. “No. But the punishment for murder of someone like the Duke is much more severe than robbery, or even the killing of the native guards. They wouldn’t confess to something like that easily.”


    “Ah, but no one ever confessed to it. In fact, they stated that the Duke was already dead when they got there, didn’t they? That the place was in turmoil because of the very recent death and that was how they got into the tower so easily. Correct?” Leaflow went to stand up as well, but the deputy waved him back with a threatening gesture.


    “Yes, that’s true.” The Sheriff’s mouth quirked up in thought. “Alright, so you want to confess to the murder of the Duke? That’s not going to help you get off lightly for the death of Chuck Feltman, even if anybody believes that he attacked you first.”This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    “But Chuck inherited the Duke’s money, didn’t he? Though the court proceedings were, perhaps, a little confused and shady?” Leaflow pressed relentlessly.


    “Yes...” Costwhile paused, taking a deep breath before letting it out sharply. “But, hang it all, none of this proves that you’re a walking dead man! You think you can prove that, other than by the bullet holes in your clothes?”


    Leaflow leaned back and looked at him with a peculiar expression in his green eyes. “Easily.”


    He reached down and pulled his right-hand glove off with the other one. For a moment, Costwhile thought that there was nothing underneath. Then he saw the faint shimmer of an outline, something misty and bluish like a man’s hand. With a careless motion, Leaflow plunged the hand into the wall up to his sleeve. The sleeve wrinkled, pushing back against the wall until half his arm was sunk into it. Just as calmly, he pulled the arm back out again, straightening the sleeve with a jerk and slipping the glove back on.


    Deputy Marston looked like he wanted to faint. Sheriff Costwhile stood very still, face going stiff and straight. After a minute he said steadily, “well, it looks like you can prove it. So, you are really dead?”


    “Truly.” Leaflow stood up, this time unhindered by the deputy, who shrunk back from him against the wall. “And as you can neither chain nor execute a dead man, persecuting me would seem somewhat ludicrous. Lock me in a cell and I shall walk out through the walls. Put handcuffs on me and they will fall right through.”


    The keys to the jail cell were still in the door. Unhindered by either of the officers, Leaflow walked out of the room. They both heard the sound of his sword sliding across the desk, then slammed in a sheath. A moment later, the door of the jailhouse opened, then closed.


    Everything was silent outside. The people had all trailed away, weary of waiting while Leaflow told his story.


    END