There weren’t many patrons in the Chase Street Library.  Maybe people were at home entertaining themselves with their own books this chilly fall night.
        A blonde-haired man in a long dark coat left the library seconds before I stepped out into a blast of cold wind and Sherwood Forest.  “Robin Hood” fit an arrow to his bow and pointed it our way.  I launched myself at the blonde stranger and the arrow whistled overhead as I lay on top of the man I had rescued.
        Clearly disappointed by the spoiled shot, the archer adjusted the pack of arrows hung over his green tunic, held tight to his bow, and sprinted away as fast as his green tights would allow.
        I scrambled to my feet.  I drew my gun from its shoulder holster, yelled, “Halt!  Police!” and pursued the suspect until he disappeared around the corner.   As I eased around the building, headlights bore down upon me and I jumped out of the way.  The car sped out of the brightly-lit parking lot onto the main road so fast that I missed the make, model, and plate.  When I returned to check on the man in the long, dark coat, he had vanished.
  
I made my way through the chaos that was the 12th Precinct to the lieutenant’s door and knocked.  “Come in,” said a voice.
        I entered the office and Lieutenant Wells glared at me over her computer.
        “Aren’t you on the day shift, Silver?”
        “Twenty minutes ago, ‘Robin Hood’ tried to kill me with a bow and arrow outside the library on Chase Street.”
        Wells brushed a lock of blonde hair from her bloodshot eyes.  She was not amused.  “You on something, Max?”
        “Does this look like a hallucination to you?”  I produced the arrow from behind my back, laid it on top of the clutter of papers on her desk, and took back the handkerchief I’d used to pick it up with.
        Her phone rang.  She pushed a button and told someone to hold her calls.  “You’ve got my full attention, Max.”
        “When I came out of the library on Chase Street at eight o’clock tonight, a man dressed in a green tunic and green tights, with a sheath of arrows hung over his shoulder, drew back his bow and shot an arrow at me, or the man who had just left the library.  I tackled the man and the arrow missed us.  Then I pursued the suspect until he made his escape in a car. When I returned to the scene, the stranger was gone, but the arrow was still there.”  I looked away from the Lieutenant and cleared my throat.  “I, uh, missed the plate on the car.”
        “You saved yourself and the other man, Max.  That was the most important thing.”  Careful not to disturb the arrow, she shuffled through some papers and pulled one out.  She read it through and handed it to me.
        The unidentified body of an old man had been found in a wooded area, death caused by an arrow in his chest. At the time, it was thought to be a hunting accident.  I waved the paper at her.  “You think ‘Robin Hood’ did this?”
        Wells shrugged.
  
Since it was late, I had only a half hour to call the costume shops in town before they closed for the night.  No ‘Robin Hood’ costumes had been rented recently, according to the shops  I’d reached.  By that time, I already knew that the lab hadn’t found any clear fingerprints on the arrow.  Guess ‘Robin’ had worn a pair of green gloves, too.
        Before I left the station, I helped the sketch artist flesh out the archer composite on his computer.  I could just see everyone’s face when they received a Wanted photo of ‘Robin Hood’.
  
The underground parking garage was still and silent as I walked to my car.  I was inside and keying the ignition before I saw the image in the rearview window.  The knife against my throat stopped me from drawing my gun.
        “You were easy to follow, but I haven’t enjoyed the wait.  I’m cold.  At least you left your

 car unlocked.  I guess you went into the police station to report me, huh?”
        My throat was dry and my heart pounded, but I made my voice calm.  “Yes, I did.  And killing me won’t stop the Wanted poster of you that’s now circulating through all the precincts in the city.”
        I felt his hand twitch, but he didn’t cut me.  “I want to know why you risked your life to save it.”
        “It?”
        “The vampire.”
        “Vampire?” I echoed.  And I’d thought he was crazy before he opened his mouth.
        “Yes.  I can somehow sense vampires.  I’m a good archer so I don’t have to risk getting close to them.  See, they only come out at night, and this way I don’t have to hunt for their coffins to stake them in the daytime.”
        “Uh-huh.  Did you kill that old guy in the woods?”
        “Sure I did—he was a vampire.  But he wasn’t old when I shot him.  He reverted to his natural age after death, see?”
        “Well, now that you’ve told me you’re a vampire killer, I understand,” I lied.  “Let me go and I’ll help you hunt them.”
  
The knife pressed harder against my throat.  It was obvious he didn’t believe me.  I knew my time was up when the back door opened.  Suddenly the knife was withdrawn, the scuffle in the back seat a blur in the rearview mirror.
        I caught my breath while ‘Robin’ was hauled outside.  He slipped to the concrete as I stepped from the car.  I offered my hand to my rescuer—a man in a long, dark coat.  “Thanks, uh…?”
        “Detective Monroe Gold, 9th Precinct,” he said, clasping my hand.
        He seemed familiar.  “Have we met?” I asked.
        He smiled but didn’t answer.
  
A groan from the man at my feet dis-tracted me and, when I looked up, Gold was gone.  I pulled the knife from the archer’s lax fingers, wrapped it in my handkerchief, and stuffed it into my breast pocket before jerking the man to his feet.  When I was sure he was awake, I read him his rights then cuffed him with pleasure.
  
I got quite a reaction when I prodded ‘Robin’ into the station.  The lieutenant took me to her office while the archer was sent to be booked.
        “Excellent work, Max.”
        “Well,” I confessed, “I had help from Detective Gold.”
        “Gold?”
        “Detective Gold from the 9th Precinct.”
        She frowned.  “My father once partnered with a Monroe Gold, but he’s dead now.”
        “Gold’s dead?”
        “He was found in an alley one night with two round wounds in his neck.  The medical examiner at the crime scene thought the wounds were made by an ice pick, and because of the lack of blood in the area, that he had bled to death somewhere else before the killer dumped him.  What’s even weirder is that Gold’s corpse was stolen from the morgue, along with his personal effects, before the autopsy could be performed.”  She pointed to the framed 8 x 10 photo on her wall.  “That’s him with my father, along with some other detectives from the 9th Precinct.”
        Before she could indicate which man was Detective Monroe Gold, I had already picked him out.  No wonder he looked familiar—he was the man I had saved from the crazy archer tonight.
        Only, maybe the archer wasn’t so crazy after all. 
 
 
                         About The Author
  
        “Silver and Gold” is K.A. Williams’ 71st story to be published.  K.A. generally writes science fiction, fantasy and horror, but detoured into the mainstream recently with “Rock,” published in Calliope Issue #117.
  
  
                                 Copyright © K.A. Williams