a couple shots of decaf for myself, adding milk, chocolate syrup, and peppermint syrup. Peppermint mocha…the perfect holiday drink.
Speaking of festive…I carried my mocha over to the trapezoid bench seat below the wide bay window. The cushion was a black and white gingham, and the three-sided bay window looked over the front lawn, out into the street. The rest of the houses on Fern Street were aglow with the wash of lights and decorations.
“I should decorate,” I murmured to myself. Ellison always wanted “tasteful” displays—I used to needle him about being like Frasier Crane, with his snobbish view of what the holidays should look like. I celebrated Solstice, but he insisted on Christmas, although he was about as religious as a pumpkin. So I performed my rituals alone. But when it came to the decorations, he wanted pure white lights, gold and silver ornaments, an understated tree with a few ivory ribbons. Absolutely nothing flamboyant or colorful. The only outside decorations he had agreed to were a couple of wreaths.
“That’s changing this year,” I whispered to myself, watching as the snow began to fall, captured by the street lamps. The cheerful houses up and down the street glowed in the snowfall, their multicolored lights and displays offering warmth in the winter night. Sipping my mocha, I felt a sudden sense of peace surround me, and leaned my head against the windowpane.
Ari showed up a few minutes later with a bucket of chicken in one hand, bags containing mashed potatoes, gravy, and biscuits, and more, and a dozen roses. “These are for getting the job,” she said, shoving the bouquet of white and red roses into my arms. “I also have brownies and wine.”
We fixed ourselves a couple of plates and settled onto the sofa with chicken, potatoes and gravy, and wine. I had found a vase for the roses and they sat prominently on top of the entertainment hutch that my parents had bought when I was eleven.
“Tell me about the job,” Ari said.
I told her, leaving nothing out. “I start tomorrow. It sounds fascinating.”
“Well, I can hardly wait to hear what you’re going to be investigating. I have to say, it sounds like a dream job to me.” She paused. “Hey, I doubt if you heard the news, but do you remember Arabella Jones?”
I frowned, thinking back. “Wasn’t she in our graduating class?”
“Yeah, she was. She was found dead this morning. I just talked to her the other day.” Ari shrugged, but I could see the worry in her eyes.
“What happened? She was too young for a stroke or a heart attack, wasn’t she?”
“That’s the thing,” Ari said, staring at her drumstick. “They have no clue what killed her. She was just found dead out in the snow…near the old asylum.”
I shivered. “What the hell? What was she doing out there?”
Moonshadow Bay had its darker aspects, and the Stellarview Institution for the Criminally Insane had been one of them. Located on the outskirts of Moonshadow Bay, Stellarview was the brainchild of George Leeland, a psychologist who later ended up in jail. The institution was more of an asylum, specializing in housing the criminally insane in Western Washington.
Opened in 1940, the asylum unfortunately ended up doing more harm than good and its license was revoked in 1967. I didn’t know all the details, but there were rumors that some of the inmates who had died there—and there were a good handful—still haunted the area. I knew there was something about a “December curse” attached to the empty asylum building, but I had no real recollection what it was.
“I have no clue, nor does her husband. He said she went out for ice cream, but she never came home. They found her body this morning. She was lying in the snow, but there were no signs of foul play, no signs of anything. There might be more on the news tonight. Do you mind if I turn on the television?”
I found the remote and turned on the TV. There was a local news and weather channel and it constantly ran the weather, with updates on the news coming every half hour.
“We have ten minutes till the next update,” I said. “I met Millie O’Conner in the store today.”
“She’s Millie Tuptin now. She married Jake Tuptin. She’s the chief of police now, you know.” Ari bit into another piece of chicken. “She’s a good cop. I trust her. We had a sketchy chief of police until the last election. Turned out he