The Legend of Sleepy Harlow by Kylie Logan

more lucrative because of it.”
    “Sounds perfect, but remember, things didn’t end happily for our Sleepy.”
    “Done in by a rival gang,” Levi said. “At least that’s what my research says. Sleepy was scheduled to hand over a load of Canadian liquor at a spot not far from your B and B. Your house would have been there at the time, of course. It was built well before Sleepy’s time. But most of the other places, like Kate’s and Chandra’s—”
    “They’re too new. They wouldn’t have been there.”
    “Which meant that was the perfect spot,” Levi said. “They would need to make the exchange someplace where they wouldn’t get interrupted by the local boys in blue. Sleepy went to the meet thinking it was nothing more than that, but he’d apparently ticked off some of the other bad guys. They killed him.”
    “And cut off his head.” Not a good thought on the best of days. Coming so soon after we found Noreen, bludgeoned and bloody, the thought made my stomach swoop.
    “Sorry.” Levi popped up, grabbed my elbow, and escorted me into the nearest chair. “You look a little green, and I don’t blame you. The other gangsters killing Sleepy, that was one thing. But even for Prohibition-era mobsters, the whole beheading thing, that was pretty out there. They really must have been mad at Sleepy about something.”
    “I’m fine. Really. I mean, it is part of Sleepy’s story. You can’t have a headless ghost if he’s still got his head.”
    “You want water?” Levi asked, and before I could tell him I didn’t need it, he disappeared into the kitchen and I heard the tap running. When he came back, he held out the glass to me, but even when I took it in my hands, he didn’t let go.
    “Somehow, I can’t think of Marianne having enough imagination to care about what Sleepy saw when he looked out these windows,” he said.
    I tried for a smile. “That’s why I’m helping.”
    “Because you’re the one with imagination.”
    “Because I’m being thorough.” I refused to play tug-of-war. If he wasn’t going to relinquish the glass of water, I didn’t really much care. I stood, and when I did, Levi had no choice but to back up a step. “Marianne will be grateful that you let me look around.”
    “And you’re not.”
    “Of course I’m grateful. Taking a look at the apartment gives me a better sense of who Sleepy was.”
    “He worked at Wilder’s, you know.”
    Though I’m sure Marianne must have mentioned it, I’d yet to find that in the pee-soaked pages. “If it was illegal to make liquor—”
    “There were a few exceptions.” I guess Levi realized that he sounded like a know-it-all, because he grinned. “Just more of what I was reading about online. A few wineries were allowed to stay in business to produce church wine. And all of them were allowed to keep making grape juice. If customers bought that juice and chose to take it home and ferment it . . .”
    “Living that way—it’s all so hard to imagine.”
    “But not hard to imagine how smuggling booze would appeal to someone with a sense of daring.”
    “Would you have done it?” I asked him. “If you lived back then, would you have taken the chance and pushed the envelope? A lot of people did, but would you? Would you have been a bootlegger?”
    The fact that Levi didn’t answer right away told me all I needed to know.
    “I’ve bothered you long enough.” I stepped away from the chair, and behind my back, I crossed my fingers. “I’ll let Marianne know what I found out, and she’ll take it from there.” The glint of the setting sun flashed against the front window, and I glanced that way. “Will they still have the wake tomorrow?” I wondered.
    He shrugged. “Try explaining canceling a major event to a few thousand tourists who are ready to party hearty. If you ask me, the powers that be are going to sweep Noreen’s murder under the rug. At least for the next couple days. The party will go on, and Hank will