The Ice Cream Castle

Prologue

The sun was not seen all day, but around the time of sunset the snow fell harder, blurring holiday lights and threatening to blot them out altogether. The forecast indicated that there could be ice on the roads later that evening, possibly sleet. Leo didn't want to stay open late, but his boss at The Ice Cream Castle insisted that Christmas shoppers who were freezing their buns off trudging from store to store would want to make sure their insides were as cold as their outsides. At least that was the way Leo reasoned it. His boss did the "Christmas shoppers" spiel, ignoring the fact that this particular shopping center was mostly closed and didn't have the type of stores frequented by last minute shoppers. The deli, the caterers, and the resell shop next door which specialized in refurbishing old appliances, had all closed at noon.

Leo wished he could've closed at noon. There hadn't been a single customer all day. Unless you counted Mr. Schulz, his roly-poly boss, who sampled the wares generously. Leo couldn't really complain about the job. He was, by his own admission, bit of a slacker and lucky to get anything in retail or food service because of his laid-back attitude toward sales, his neo-hippie hair, and his casual attire. He wouldn't change the way he dressed for a job. He always quoted Thoreau, "Beware of all enterprises that require new clothes, and not rather a new wearer of clothes." Thoreau would've approved of how thoroughly broken-in his clothes were. Never ragged or threadbare: he had standards, even if they weren't anyone else's standards.

The Ice Cream Castle was on the end of the row in the small shopping center. It stood out, not because it was two stories, but because of the faux stone facade which framed the glass store front and the flat towers perched at the roofline on either end which looked like scenery from a school play. It was---tower facade excepted---the same height as other shops in the row, but instead of the upper level being a storage area, office, or employee break room, the small upper area of The Ice Cream Castle had tables, a jukebox, and a sort of idealized '50s decor. Camelot on the outside: Happy Days on the inside. The incongruity was lost on the owner. After the first decade, no one commented on the fictional time-warp any more.

After the boss left for the evening Leo went up to the loft to turn out the lights again. He waited a half hour, just to make sure Mr. Schulz was safely home enjoying a hot toddy, before he turned them off. The boss didn't care about energy conservation, or apparently about energy bills: he wanted the whole place lit up like a Christmas tree all the time, especially at night. Leo supposed the idea was that people would see it from the street, all brightly lit with tinsel hung in the window alongside twinkling fairy lights, then they'd want to come eat ice cream. He allowed as how it probably did look cheery and inviting with all the lights on, but so far, on brutally cold December evenings with the rest of the shopping center closed up dark and tight, shoppers had not been lured in. Only an hour left until the 9 pm closing time. Leo clumped up the steps to the upper level, turned off the lights and browsed the jukebox, which cast a warm multicolored glow across the hardwood floor and walls. He heard the door jingle open and smiled at the sound of his sleigh bells on the door.

Last year Mr. Schulz had tried to put the bells up the first week in November, but Leo had put his foot down. He was adamant. No sleigh bells before December. Mr. Schulz was so taken aback at this sudden show of passion from his most quiet, least motivated employee that he'd acquiesced, slack-jawed. The bells had been Leo's contribution to the holiday decor the year before, so Mr. Schultz gave in with good grace.

A person in a black hoodie went around the counter, headed for the cash register. Funny thing, it didn't even occur to Leo that it was a robbery. When he looked up and saw the head bob around the rail for some reason all he thought was that customers weren't allowed to be in the food-handling area. He thought the guy was going to stick his hand in the ice cream freezer. He went to the upper rail. "Hey!" he shouted. The guy whirled, but his hand wasn't in the freezer; it was in his pocket and before Leo really knew what happened he'd been shot dead. The jukebox was playing "Jingle Bell Rock".

That's how the ice cream parlor came to be haunted by Leo. The lights in the upper level never worked again. There was a succession of electrical inspectors, electricians, and all kinds of workmen. Bulbs, fuses, fuse boxes, wiring, pretty much everything that could be replaced was but nothing made the lights work again. The jukebox still glowed and played, but Mr. Schulz lost the battle against employee apathy about keeping it playing and instead put in a 50's song service, which repeated too often. When it got too annoying the employees turned it off. No one went into the upper level once they were no longer required to play the jukebox. A new employee typically explored the upper floor or at least poked their head up once, then forgot about it. From the street there was this dark swath across the top of the upper glass window. No one looked for anything in that darkness, but that didn't mean Leo wasn't there.

He sometimes sat at the tables, but when the place was busy, he'd lean against the rail unseen and keep up an unheard commentary on people's conversations, giving silent advice on everything from their love life to what ice cream they'd like. Leo loved ice cream. The most immediate regret of his death was that he couldn't taste it any more. He'd tried a few times after the shop was closed for the evening. He was insubstantial, incorporeal. It was annoying and that was a pretty big deal for Leo, who rarely ever got annoyed when he was alive. It took death and ice cream always just out of reach to fluster and frustrate this laid-back, easy-going guy. The first few days, when the shop was closed and dark and the ice cream seemed as insubstantial as he was, he wondered if he was in hell. He wasn't yet; that would come later.