Fiona Frost: Order of the Black Moon

by Dr. Bon Blossman

  Mr. Thomas was frazzled. He curved around his desk and dropped down into his chair. He bent an elbow on his desk and placed his cheek in his cupped hand.

  “We have the records from the reception that you reported you attended that night. We know you were not there. I know your wife’s name is Beth, and you were just speaking to her about this on the phone. Beth is not the one who called us, by the way.”

  Mr. Thomas gazed out of the window at the murky day, focusing on the students walking by. He was obviously marinating on what Detective Chase had said and deciding how to respond.

  “I no longer wish to speak with you, Detective. You can contact my legal team if you need to talk to me further,” he said coldly and gestured towards his classroom door.

  The detective nodded at me and pointed his eyes towards the door as he rose from his seat.

  “Thank you for your time, Mr. Thomas.”

  Detective Chase strolled towards the classroom door.

  “Thanks, Mr. Thomas,” I added, following the detective out into the hallway.

  His CB radio beeped, followed by a noisy bout of static. He unhinged it from his shoulder harness and twisted a knob until the voice came clear.

  “Radio to Unit 218, copy,” the radio sounded, followed by a short beep and static.

  “Godley Grove High, go ahead,” he said into the speaker.

  “218, Please respond to Godley Grove City Park,” the operator sounded.

  “218, 10-4,” he responded, eyebrows pulled towards the center of his forehead in uncertainty as he gazed at me.

  “We have a code N, involving the James case 207. Be advised that we’ve received three citizen complaints of a middle-aged female, silver hair, navy shirt, green pants, approximately 5’3”, 170 pounds, possible 10-50 or 5150. Suspect believed to be Emily Vance. Officers en route to the scene, but they might need a friendly.”

  “Copy, en route, clear and direct,” he buckled his radio back onto his shoulder harness.

  He shook his head.

  “What’s a Code N, 10-50 or 5150?” I inquired.

  He chuckled as he picked up the pace towards the front of the school.

  “A 10-50 is a possible case of a suspect being under the influence of drugs, usually hallucinatory with that code, and 5150 is a straight up mental case,” he said bluntly, engaging a half-jog towards his Impala.

  “But why would you, from the crime lab, be asked to go? I mean, don’t they have the other police to do that?”

  “Well, if it involves suspects in an active criminal case, the Chief wants me there in case I am the only one the suspect will trust since I’ve been working with them on the case. That’s why she asked for a friendly. Plus, you never know when new details will come out. Once, the police arrested a murder suspect on an unrelated criminal trespassing charge. The man was under the influence and confessed to the murder while he was being arrested. They had a little trouble in court and would have preferred to have the homicide investigators there on the scene to take an official statement upon his confession. The prisoner refused to talk about it when he got to the jail, and the defense stated that he was under duress while being arrested and didn’t know what he was saying. Even though the man said something along the lines of you can’t get me on a murder case that I’m guilty of, but you get me on this nonsense?”

  “Did the man go free on the murder charge?”

  “No, there was enough evidence to convict him, so it worked out. I think the arresting officer engaged him in enough conversation about it that they found the murder weapon and used that against him. The Chief is proactive on these things. Wanna ride along?”

  “Certainly. This should be interesting,” I said, grabbing my phone to send my mom a quick text of what I was doing.

  We jumped into his Impala and sped off towards the city park.

  “So, Detective. What about Parker Thomas, III? Why is he acting so shady? I mean, he inherited millions; the victim was his sister and the only other living heir to their grandfather’s estate. Why do you think he lied about where he was the night of the murder?”

  “Donno. It seems quite odd, and we will be in touch with his legal team, for sure,” he said as he whipped around to Cryton Drive.

  We were at the park within two minutes from leaving the high school. The Impala came to a halt, and we jumped out of the car.

  “Whoa, Fiona. With a 10-50 or 5150, I’m going to have to ask you to stay in the car and watch from there. Your safety is my priority.”

  I turned around, climbing back into the passenger seat, facing the window to get a decent look at what was going on with Emily Vance. In the distance, I could see a crowd of people scattered around her as she jumped up and down, falling into a froglike position at random. Everybody had their phones pointed at her, filming the chaos as she screamed and performed an occasional roll on the ground towards the bystanders. The uniformed police officers directed the bystanders to leave the area, but as soon as one group would leave another would approach and take a front seat. A red-headed officer had a can of mace spray in his hand as he approached Emily.

  Detective Chase drew near the fray, notifying the officers of his presence. He tried to speak to Emily and then he waved off the ginger officer with the mace. Emily responded to Detective Chase as she stood upright, finally appearing to behave normal. That is, until she grabbed the waistband of her elastic pants and pulled them down to her knees, exposing her undergarments—red with white hearts on them. Detective Chase stepped back and a uniformed officer struggled to handcuff her as a female officer rushed up, pulling her pants back to her waist. She was escorted towards a police car as the bystanders marched alongside the scene, filming the episode with their phones.

  Just as the officer slammed the car door, the news team arrived, rushing out of their van with cameras in hand. A female news reporter, pausing for her makeup artist to dab powder on her face, held a microphone to her face and started speaking into the camera. The cameras panned to Emily Vance in the back of the car. She was slamming her head against the window.

  Detective Chase soon joined me in the Impala.

  “Well, that was quite interesting.”

  “You never told me, Detective. What is a code N? For nude? Since she was about to be nude,” I said as we both broke into laughter.

  “Well, that makes sense, but it’s actually a code for newsworthy. Gives us all a heads-up that the reporters might show up,” he said, firing up the car and heading towards the high school.

  “What will happen to Emily now? Jail?” I mused.

  “Well, I’m sure if she is not under the influence of drugs, she will most likely follow the orders of the McNaughton Rule or the Omnibus Crime Code for Insanity.”

  “She’ll be tested by a psychiatrist?”

  “Well, insanity is a legal term and is determined by the judge and jury,” he informed, stopping at a stop sign. “The psychiatrists diagnose mental disorders, report them to the court, and then the court declares insanity. The McNaughton Rule has the jury pose the question if the suspect with the mental condition would have been able to understand the nature and consequences of their actions in the crime. In other words, you can’t be guilty of murder if you didn’t understand that murder was wrong, so they’ll declare you insane, and you go to a mental hospital instead of a prison.”

  “Since she may be nuts, do you think she did it? Is she your guess now?”

  Detective Chase shook his head.

  “No, Fiona. She is crazy, but I really don’t think it was her. The chloroform in her system at the amounts detected isn’t incidental. She’s going away, nonetheless. The Room of Orbs now has a vacancy. The Hartford researchers should be happy about that. I heard they had some past incidents with her.”

  “I can only imagine that they did,” I laughed.

  Detective Chase pulled up next to my car in the student parking lot of the high school and killed the engine.

  “How is your cousin Haley? She took a m
assive hit to the head, I heard.”

  “She’s still in the hospital, but my mom sent me a text earlier that she’s coming home tonight. It isn’t anything serious, but she got stitches, and they did a bunch of tests to make sure she didn’t have any brain injuries. She’s a tough kid,” I said with a hint of sincerity in my voice.

  “You know, Fiona. She was brave doing what she did. Shows she has a heart and does care about you.”

  “I know. She didn’t have to do what she did—she could have stayed in her closet and he’d have never known she was there. Maybe she’s not all bad. My mom also said she’s not going to New Zealand now. She can’t send her off across the world after being injured like that.”

  “I agree, blunt force trauma to the skull is nothing to ignore. She should be watched for a while—even if she does test normal.”

  “You know what? Maybe that actually knocked some sense in her?” I said, grabbing my bag and climbing out of the car.

  22 VISITING HOURS

  At school the following morning, there was a ton of gossip going on in the hallway about Emily Vance as many of the videos taken that day had gone viral on YouTube.

  At lunch, Maddie and I finally got to talk about the case. I got her up to speed about Parker Thomas, III, and she instantly selected him as her pick of whodunit. She said the one with the biggest motive is always the one, and the evidence around him was far too shifty. I officially disagreed with her, something was devious with his story, but I just didn’t feel he was guilty.

  Without warning, the pink-haired Victoria Newsted slammed her tray of cafeteria cuisine next to Maddie, taking a seat by her, wearing her usual Gothic 1960’s style dress, custom made—they didn’t have Goths back then.

  “Have you seen it?” she scoffed in an irritated tone.

  “Uh, no. Seen what?” Maddie asked with a curious voice.

  “The Facebook posts that Damien made!”

  Instantly, I grabbed my iPhone and pulled up my Facebook app.

  “No, Victoria, but I don’t think I am friends with Damien, or is his account open?” I said quickly, waiting for it to open.

  “Yes, anybody can see his posts, he wants everybody to see his posts,” she mocked, her straight pink locks waxed into shaggy points.

  I searched for Damien Lee, and his shocking profile picture was in full Gothic makeup. He looked like what I would have imagined Count Dracula looked like in his day. I clicked on his account and scanned his posts. He had made three posts, all from 19 minutes prior. Maddie pulled it up on her phone, we simultaneously gasped in shock as we read his first post.

  To all my haters and the haters of the House of the Nightmare Army, including my ex-girlfriend Victoria Newsted. May my wrath seek you out and destroy you.

  Then, I scanned down to the second post.

  Camber Johnson, Sydney Sergeant and any future chicken %$#$ traitor of the House of the Nightmare Army, including Victoria Newsted—love your tongues now for they shall be ours. I am the only one who is a true vampire. I am the only one who could hold the Sword of Moartea. I am the only true link to the underworld. As I held the sword on many times before, you stood back, mocking the sanctity of the Nosfu Vampire.

  Then, with a sickened stomach, I read the third post.

  Dimitri LeMorte is a God. I am nearly a God. The rest of you, prepare for the uprising. Your life suxx, not mine.

  “Victoria, you two broke up?” I inquired slowly; the words seemed to come out like a badly rehearsed script.

  “Obviously. We had a fight. Damien was angry that I told the police that Dimitri broke in the blood bank and stole the blood. Damien and Dimitri are taking this vampire thing a little too far. I mean, I’m one of them, but I don’t obsess about it 24-7. I like to have fun being a normal teenager on occasion, you know. Not everything needs to be focused on becoming a Nosfu vampire and gaining power to the underworld,” she sneered, rolling her eyes.

  “I understand, Victoria. Why do you think he wants everybody to die? Why do you think he made these posts?”

  Victoria pursed her blackened lips and shrugged her shoulder.

  “I suppose he just wants attention. He is mad that Camber and Sydney quit the cult, and now it’s just us two. We also fought about getting some new recruits. I liked it just being us two, and he wants to recruit more members. He said we’re the smallest House of the Order of the Black Moon and that it is shameful as a leader only to lead one other person. He was reminiscing about how large the House was many years ago. Dimitri LeMorte was promoted from the House to the Order of the Black Moon, and then became the leader of the Order when he became a Nosfu vampire and wrote the tenets. The others in the House either moved away or were sent away over the years. Damien just needs to get over his quest to rule a massive amount of people.”

  Maddie shrugged her shoulders, her palms facing the ceiling in a so what pose.

  I sent a quick text to Detective Chase to notify him of Damien Lee’s posts. I figured the police might want to act on it as a potential threat to the student body.

  “Seems like a better scenario to me—fewer people to deal with,” Maddie said playfully.

  “Hey, Victoria. You didn’t by chance find your phone, did you? I mean, the phone that you had the night that Damien held the sword over the victim.”

  Victoria slid her phone across the cafeteria table to me and stared at me intently. I picked it up, opened her camera, scrolling through her pictures. I landed on the pictures from the night of the murder, and in disgust, focused in on the pictures of Damien and the sword as he posed over the victim. As described to the police, Damien had posed with the victim in various positions holding the sword. Scrolling backward in her camera roll on her phone, I didn’t locate any pictures of the victim prior to the murder. However, I wasn’t naive enough to think that this wasn’t a ploy to get their involvement in the case minimized. She could have easily deleted any pictures from her phone prior to allowing me to view it. On the other hand, she couldn’t have realized that I would ask to see her phone if she came over to speak with me about Damien. I slid the phone to Maddie so she could get a look, and she instantly noticed something that got by me.

  “Fiona, look. Look at Camber Johnson,” Maddie said, sliding the phone back to me.

  I picked it up, zoomed in on the picture, and noticed to the left of Damien was Camber Johnson. Camber’s hand was over her mouth and her eyes were widened in disgust. I flipped to the next picture. She was even further back with her head turned away. The next picture showed that she was walking towards the stairs with an angry look upon her face. It didn’t seem from the pictures that Camber was pleased with Damien’s actions.

  “Camber didn’t want to be there that night, huh?” I asked slowly, placing the phone back on the table and sliding it towards Victoria.

  “No, she was disgusted by the dead body. I thought it was somewhat cool, to be honest. I mean, we didn’t do anything wrong but take some pictures. At first, we didn’t think about being blamed, figured the justice system would do their jobs and find the real killer,” Victoria snarled her lip at me, exposing her golden fang. “Oh and Sydney’s being shipped off to live with her uncle in New York. Sounds a lot like somebody I know, Fiona.”

  “Haley?” Maddie added blithely.

  “Yeah, she’s a cool chick. Maybe Damien can get her in with us one day. That is, if I go back with him. I’m not sure what I want to do at this point. I have some friends in Silver Springs that I may move in with, but I’m not sure what I want to do.”

  I narrowed my eyes in disgust.

  “No, I think not. But one more thing, Victoria. What kind of curse did Dimitri put on Detective Chase? He’s broken out in a strange rash that the doctor says is stress. Is there a cure for what he did? Not that I believe in that crap, but I’m curious, the oil could have had poisonous vapors or something.”

  Victoria laughed maniacally before standing up and grabbing her tray.

  “Don’t be so gullible, Fiona
. We’re not magical, you know. It’s called a placebo effect. It’s in his head. It is stress—it can do wild things if your imagination is unleashed,” she sneered, grabbing her phone from the table, she walked away.

  “Well, she’s a breath of sunshine, huh?” Maddie sang, taking a bite of her pizza.

  “Yeah, not!” I laughed.

  “Guess what, Fiona!”

  “What?”

  “Carden asked me on an official date for tomorrow night!”

  “No way! Finally! But why a Thursday?”

  “He said if it works out, and we have fun on a mini date on a weeknight, we can go out again on Friday,” she laughed.

  “Well, I guess that is cautious. He’d hate to waste a Friday night if you two are not compatible eating together and going to a movie, huh?”

  I shook my head in a good-natured disgust.

  “But then he also said that he chose Thursday because he can’t wait until Friday,” she grinned.

  I feigned poking my finger down my throat to elicit a gag response, and she laughed even more.

  “What about Wolfe, Fiona? Have you hooked up with him officially yet?”

  “No, Maddie, we are just friends. Get off that kick!” I giggled nervously.

  “Okay, Fiona. Sure. I’m your best friend, remember that fact.”

  My phone vibrated, and I checked the text message from Detective Chase, showing it to Maddie.

  I’m going to visit Beth Thomas this afternoon. You can attend with a club member if you wish.

  Maddie nodded that she was in, and I responded with a text to Detective Chase that we were in.

  After school, Maddie and I drove to the station and waited next to his car after notifying him of our arrival.

  “I can’t believe that Sydney’s leaving Godley Grove. I mean, she hasn’t even been here that long, gets into a little trouble, and has to move in with her uncle?”

  “Sounds like Haley, actually. I guess when a kid is so far gone in one place if the parents can’t move away because of their job or house or whatever, I guess it makes sense. Haley would have been in jail by now if she stayed in New Jersey—at least that’s what my aunt and uncle say.”