Mo gazed out as they crossed the Hudson over the Tappan Zee Bridge, which extended across one of the widest parts of the river. She’d always loved the view from the bridge. She saw the sign that told her it was officially the Governor Malcolm Wilson Tappan Zee Bridge. Tappan was the name of a Native American tribe. Zee was the Dutch word for sea.
“It’s beautiful,” Aidan said, smiling. “As often as I’ve come over this bridge, I still love the drive.”
Was it just her? Or did the memory of his kiss seem to linger on the air, just as it lingered on her lips?
It had just been a kiss. Offered in gratitude—nothing more.
“Yeah, Tappan really is beautiful,” Mo murmured. “There’s such interesting history there, too. The first Orange County courthouse was built here in 1691. And Major Andre was held at Yoast Mabie’s house—now a restaurant. Not only that, Washington had his headquarters here four times during the war,” she said enthusiastically. She glanced at Aidan, who looked back at her with a wry grin.
He knew all that, of course. He was from the area.
“Yup. And I know exactly where the Andre memorial is. Are we going there?” he asked.
“Yes, let’s do that.”
They drove over to where the memorial to Major John Andre had been erected—a stone that briefly described his deeds, his part in persuading Benedict Arnold to become a traitor to the American cause—and the plan to turn West Point over to the British.
The memorial, surrounded by a fence, was on a roundabout in a suburban area. Aidan pulled off the road to reach it. “I think the first time someone tried to create this memorial, there was an outcry over commemorating a British spy. Some people tried to destroy the first memorial to him. As I recall, there used to be a pedestal, but it was blown up one too many times. Now I suppose we remember him mainly for dying young,” Aidan said as they stood in front of the memorial.
Mo read the inscription aloud. “‘His death, though according to the stern rule of war, moved even his enemies to pity, and both armies mourned the fate of one so young and brave.’”
Aidan nodded.
“A lot of people desperately wanted to save him,” Mo went on. “They wanted to have a prisoner exchange—but he’d been a prisoner and part of an exchange once before. And as much as Washington admired him, he decided he had to abide by the rules of war, just like it says here. Yet his death pleased no one.”
“‘He was more unfortunate than criminal. He was an accomplished man and gallant officer.’ That’s a quote from George Washington,” Aidan said. “You’re right, his death pleased no one. But the British hanged Nathan Hale. It was war. Still, a sad note in history.”
Mo nodded, then looked around. It was another beautiful fall day, with the sun high overhead and a few white clouds coasting across a brilliant blue sky.
Cars drove around the monument.
“Do you...see anything?” Aidan asked Mo.
“No,” she replied.
“This is about ten miles from the Sleepy Hollow–Tarrytown area,” Aidan said. “It isn’t much of a distance now, but it was quite a ride back in the seventeen hundreds. We believe that Lizzie, our Woman in White, lived on the other side of the bridge, yet she must’ve come here to see Andre. Maybe she had friends on this side. Maybe she was buried here.”
“Ghosts seldom hang around their own graves. Who wants to think about their bodies rotting?”
“You have another idea?”
“What about where the Old Dutch Church is in Sleepy Hollow? Or the place that used to be the Mabie house, since that’s where Andre was held,” Mo said.
“I’m ready for some lunch, anyway,” Aidan told her.
They went back to the car, Rollo trotting happily beside them.
Like a kid out with Mom and Dad for the day! Mo thought.
Since Rollo was wearing an official service-dog vest, they had no problem taking him into the old Mabie house, now the 76 Restaurant.
Mo had been there before, and she loved it. It was old and heavily timbered, and the decor had been influenced by history. Andre and Benedict Arnold were represented in likenesses on the wall, with the portrait of Benedict Arnold upside down.
A friendly hostess seated them. But as soon as she’d ordered, Mo got up and went to what was now a banquet hall. It was where Andre had been held.
She tried to feel the history here.
But she knew that Andre was back at Sleepy Hollow where he’d been seen through the centuries on dark and misty nights.
He was fond of the area, perhaps drawn there by the time when his life had been an adventure and he’d been on a quest—and in love.
And what about the Woman in White?
Did she mourn here, where her lover had died, for all eternity?
“Anything?” Aidan asked when she returned to the table.
She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I might have wasted your time today.”
“Well, we have to eat. And the local police and the rest of my Krewe are working all the angles that have to do with the various leads we have.”
“Did they get anything out of the vault?”