Starlight Web (Moonshadow Bay #1) - Yasmine Galenorn Page 0,39
is on his office door, near the restrooms and water fountains.” She picked up her phone. “May I tell him who’s on the way up?”
“January Jaxson. I have a three o’clock appointment.” I thanked her and took the elevator, deciding my hip was sore enough from slamming into the wall that I really didn’t want to add to it by climbing a flight of stairs.
Sure enough, the green arrows led to Crichton’s office. I stopped to use the restroom and wash my hands and face and make sure I looked presentable. Then, draping my coat over my arm, I tapped on his door and entered when I heard the faint “Come in.”
“Hi, I’m January Jaxson. I have an appointment with you? I know I’m a few minutes early, but…”
“Come on in, that’s fine.” Charles Crichton stood. He was a tall man, at least six-four, and probably in his seventies, but he looked like he was in good shape, and he had a gracious demeanor about him that seemed completely genuine. His hair was short and smoothed back in what I thought of the “older businessman’s wave,” and he was wearing a pair of brown trousers and a pale green sweater vest over a tan shirt.
“How do you do?” I shook his hand and then sat down when he motioned to the chair nearest his desk. “Thank you for taking time to talk to me today.”
“I understand you’re doing some research on the old asylum?” He sorted through some folders on his desk and pulled out one, setting it on top of the stack.
“Yes, actually. First, should I assume you know about the rumor regarding Psy Schooner’s ghost? And the mysterious deaths that have occurred on the asylum’s grounds over the years?” I pulled out a digital recorder. “Do you mind if I record our interview so I don’t make any mistakes later on?”
He stared at the recorder for a second, then nodded. “Go ahead.”
I flipped it on and spoke into the mic, “Interview with Charles Crichton, December 9, three p.m.” Then, setting it on the desk between us, I asked, “So, you are familiar with the history of the Stellarview Institution for the Criminally Insane?”
“I am,” he said. “I actually researched it for an article I wrote some years back for a magazine investigating outdated modes of therapy. I did a great deal of research into the background of the asylum—because that’s what it was. It wasn’t meant for rehabilitation, it was a place to conveniently house people whom nobody wanted to deal with.”
“I take it you don’t have a high opinion of how they ran the place?”
He shook his head, frowning. “Not only were their techniques detrimental, but the company who opened it was in it for the money. All they wanted was that check every month from the government. They also took—and this was proven in a lawsuit—kickbacks from a number of shysters huckstering patently useless therapies. Some of those therapies were benign, but others were downright dangerous and led to the death of more than one inmate.”
I settled back in my chair. “You make it sound like it was the turn of the century, not the 1950s.”
“Oh, there were plenty of illegitimate therapies and ‘cures’ being pushed back then, and this was back when lobotomies were still frequently performed. Also, primitive electro-shock therapy hadn’t been refined, and it was often detrimental on the subjects. Now, of course, most lobotomies are banned, although I believe there are still some states that allow them under certain conditions. And electro-shock therapy has come a long way, though I can tell you, I still wouldn’t want to go through it.” He frowned, leaning forward. “But you have to understand something. Stellarview—or SICI, as it was called—wasn’t interested in inmates getting better. If you could rehabilitate someone, they might be released or transferred back to a mainstream prison. When your primary focus is to make money by taking in fees for hospitalization and food and care, you don’t release patients.”
“So they didn’t attempt to help the inmates?”
“Right. In fact, from what research I have uncovered over the years, they did their best to make things worse. There was dark magic worked in those wards, and you—I know you’re descended from one of the founding magical families of this town—know as well as I do that no one with a mental illness should perform magic or be around intense magical practice. It can disturb the balance of their mental health even more.”