Zombie Waffle Murder (A Wicked Waffle Paranormal Cozy Mystery Book 8)

by Carolyn Q. Hunter

  “It’s nothing,” he retorted sharply, standing up and heading over to the coffee maker. He fumbled nervously with the cellophane wrapping over the disposable cup but finally managed to get it free. Tearing it away, he poured the steaming liquid into the cup and sipped it. “Anyway, you better go,” he encouraged Sonja, giving her the cue to leave. He clearly wanted her to get out before he said something else in his drunkenness that he didn’t want to reveal.

  Sonja didn’t hesitate and stood up, walking to the door.

  “T-Thanks,” he called.

  Sonja gave a little nod and then stepped out.

  Standing in the hallway, she couldn’t help but wonder what other secret he might be hiding.

  Chapter 9

  Sonja didn’t hesitate to drive out around the lake to the trail mouth for the falls. As she made the familiar trip around the shimmering waters, watching the morning fishermen dotting the blue expanse and the ferry carry cars back and forth to the land bridge, she was grateful to not be walking or running the whole way this time.

  It had surely been an interesting experience, and one she was glad she took to some degree, but she would be happy never to run another single mile in her life again. She just hoped Frank didn’t expect her to do more athletic events like that with him.

  She was content to stay home and do yoga from the comfort and privacy of her own living room. Of course, she hadn’t done it yet since she’d gotten married for fear of looking silly. It was dumb, she knew, but she had to warm up to Frank living in the cottage with her.

  In all honesty, she knew he’d made the bigger sacrifice by moving out of his own tiny home and into hers. He’d had to downsize on his stuff, putting much of it into storage until he could figure out what to do with it. The cottage was much larger and provided more room for the two of them. Meanwhile, Frank was renting his old home out for extra cash.

  Parking in the small lot at the bottom of the trail, Sonja climbed out, making sure that she had the little pink bracelet with her. Glancing up at the sky, she noticed that the sunny day had begun to vanish in a smattering of gray clouds. Fluffy clouds that looked like marshmallows in the distance threatened a summer rainstorm.

  Sonja knew she should have checked the weather first before heading out, but this was important. Unless lightning started to flash, she wasn’t going to retreat.

  Walking past the weathered wooden sign marking the trail, she walked along into the woods, snaking along the various paths until she came to a space that seemed open enough for her to go about her work.

  She simply hoped that no other hikers came along and spotted her doing some occult ritual. It was a small town and word would get out quickly that Sonja Reed was a witch—or something along those lines.

  Her hope was that, with the murder, most people would stay away.

  Grabbing a stick, Sonja drew a circle in the dirt and then filled it with a large pentagram. Taking the bracelet out, she set it in the center of the circle. Standing in the space at the very bottom of the pentagram, she held out her hands above the area she had created and tried to remember the wording.

  She hoped it didn’t need to be exact. She’d done similar rituals with Ouija boards and tarot cards in the past.

  “I come in peace and friendship. I bring this bracelet of the woman recently deceased—a connection through the thin veil. If there are any spirits in these woods around me, please make yourselves known,” she called out, feeling ridiculous and hoping no one could hear her.

  She waited to see if she felt or heard anything.

  Nothing.

  “If there are any spirits here, please make yourselves known,” she called out again, louder this time.

  Her hands trembled from being out straight like two boards.

  She couldn’t quite tell if the quiver was just her own or from an outside force.

  “If there are any spirits here, please make yourselves known.”

  A fresh wind passed down the mountainside and among the trees, hitting her with a force that nearly knocked her down. The crackle of thunder in the distance heralded an incoming storm.

  As the goosebumps on her bare arms rose and her hairs stood at attention, she knew someone—or something—was responding. Letting her eyes flutter open, she saw the pink bracelet move, either pushed by the wind or an unseen hand, to the edge of the circle. Sonja followed it with her eyes.

  Another heavy gust of wind came through. Dirt cast up into the air and Sonja squinted. The bracelet moved again, rushing off into the brush at the side of the trail. This time, Sonja moved into action, stepping out of the circle herself and trying to follow where the small item may lead.

  She didn’t want to lose it in the natural grass and bushes.

  Keeping her eyes peeled as if she were searching for a missing puzzle piece, she saw the flash of pink move again. Another rumble of thunder threatened rain as the sky darkened further with gray clouds—the ones she’d spotted only moments earlier.

  Shuffling off the beaten path, Sonja followed the pink item as it danced and moved along the ground, under bushes, over rocks, and down into the gulley.

  The rush of water in the distance matched the sound of the wind and Sonja knew she was getting close to the waterfall again. Only this time, she would be at the bottom of it instead of behind or at the top.

  The pink bracelet disappeared and Sonja worried that she’d lost it.

  Emerging from between two large pine trees, she saw she was standing in the bottom of the gulley itself now. She hadn’t realized she was so close because the wind was as loud as the water. It poured from the cliff above and splashed down into the pool below which fed out into the lake behind her.

  That’s when she spotted it. Floating out above the water, just in front of the falls, was a blue glowing orb of light. Its translucency allowed her to see through it.

  Was this what she’d spotted in the woods that day and behind the falls during the Zombithon?

  Almost as soon as she’d seen it, it vanished in a puff of air.

  “Hold on, wait. What is it I’m supposed to see? What are you trying to show me?” she called out.

  Something bumped her toe. Looking down, she realized she was standing at the water’s edge. An object was floating there and had ridden up and hit her foot. Bending over, she picked up what appeared to be a vitamin bottle. “What is this?” she wondered.

  Then she remembered. Ruby had been taking vitamins at her diner the other day.

  This bottle belonged to her.

  But why had it ended up in the falls? Did she drop it upon being hit by the arrow? More importantly, why did it matter?

  There had to be more to this bottle than met the eye, Sonja decided.

  Turning, she headed back toward her car. She needed to see Frank.

  Chapter 10

  Arriving outside of the police station, Sonja parked in her usual spot and ran inside the front door of the brick building. She realized that she still hadn’t seen much of Frank since the investigation began the day before and had a sensation of excitement about meeting up with her husband. Maybe, if he wasn’t too busy, they could grab lunch together after she showed him the vitamin bottle.

  She had a hunch about what the bottle could mean but needed Frank to do some tests in their little lab there.

  As she stepped into the small wood-paneled reception area of the station, she could hear inside his office—and he did not sound happy.

  “What do you mean, missing? How can it be missing?” he snapped. There was a thudding noise and Sonja assumed her husband had slapped his hands on the desk, a habit of his when he was upset about something.

  Another voice, much too low and quiet to be overheard, responded with a reserved and timid answer of sorts.

  Sonja looked over to the department secretary, Marie, who had an ever-changing shade of hair color. Today, the permed poof atop the woman’s head was a vibrant shade of yellow, most likely to accompany the sunny and warm summer time season.
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  “What’s going on?” Sonja mouthed to her.

  Marie waggled a finger for Sonja to walk over to the window at the desk. “Hon, now may not be a good time for a visit,” she whispered once Sonja was close enough to hear.

  “Why? What’s happening?”

  “Doll, I have no idea, I’m sure—but that husband of yours seems to be in a tizzy.”

  “I can hear that, but what caused it?”

  She shrugged, her pink floral-patterned dress—with massive shoulder pads worthy of the eighties—bobbed up and down. “I haven’t the faintest. That fly-by-the-seat coroner went in and the sheriff started flipping out.”

  Sonja scowled, glancing back toward the partially open door. She knew the coroner was a bit of an odd duck and didn’t always follow protocol to a T, but whatever he did must have really been bad this time if it was setting Frank off so much. “What could it be?” she wondered.

  “Well, I know that the coroner was out of town yesterday and last night.”

  Sonja’s mouth opened into an O shape. “I see, right when Frank would have wanted the autopsy done.”

  “Right. So, it had to wait until the coroner could get back into town, you know? I guess no one knew he’d taken off for a vacation. I heard he had just jumped over to Vegas to play the slots and see some of those girly shows.”

  Sonja cringed at the very thought. “So, now he’s back. What’s the trouble?”

  “Maybe Frank is chewing him out for not giving notice that he would be gone?”

  Sonja tapped her foot. “No, it has to be something more than that.”

  Just then, the cracked door swung open and the coroner, a middle-aged man, ran out with his shoulders slumped and his head low. He ran out of there like a man on fire.

  Frank quickly appeared as well. “I need both deputies in my office, now,” he informed Marie.

  “Right, Sheriff. I’ll call them in.”

  “Frank, what’s going on?” Sonja asked, making her presence known to her preoccupied husband.

  “Not now, Sonj’.”

  “I have potential new evidence about the case,” Sonja noted, hoping that would grab his attention. She produced the bottle for him to see.

  He didn’t even flinch. “Later, Sonja. I’ve got big problems.”

  “Like what?” she asked, putting the bottle back in her purse.

  Frank paused and turned to his wife. “The body, it’s gone.”

  “What?” she and Marie blurted out at the same time.

  “Ruby’s body disappeared from the morgue last night.”

  * * *

  Sonja marched out of there in complete awe, unable to hold back what she was thinking. What had happened to the body?

  A sick feeling sat in the pit of her stomach as she considered the ritual she’d done in the woods—the one to call spirits close to her, maybe even through the thin veil if possible. She’d seen the spirit in the woods, of course, the floating orb of sorts.

  But had she also called upon something else? Had she brought some sort of malignant evil from the other side, or even stranger, Ruby herself?

  This all led to the thought at the forefront of Sonja’s mind. Had she accidentally filled the dead body of the murder victim with a spirit that somehow caused it to get up and walk away?

  Had she created a real-life zombie?

  She’d heard tale of such occurrences and wouldn’t put it past reality. Ever since she’d discovered her ability to see ghosts, nothing had surprised her. Witches existed, why not zombies?

  Climbing into her car, she took a deep breath. She wished her friend Belinda was around to help. Belinda was an expert on the occult and had always helped Sonja in previous cases where such drastically strange things occurred. She was the one who introduced Sonja to the hidden section of the library in the basement—the one that had been burned up by a witch.

  Unfortunately, she didn’t have Belinda around and didn’t have the library either. Could it be possible that there were some hidden texts or manuscripts in the manor where Belinda used to live, and Sonja was now caretaker?

  She had to know if the body truly had become a zombie.

  She paused, taking in a few deep breaths to calm herself. It had been a while since she’d done any rituals to contact the dead. She was sure that she was just nervous about it.

  No, it couldn’t be a zombie, right?

  Surely, that wasn’t the case. Someone must have stolen the body. It was the more likely explanation . . . and surprisingly, the less upsetting one.

  But why? How?

  Could Chandler have stolen and hidden it the night before? But what for? What about Kamson or even Patty?

  The case was growing more complicated by the minute.

  Most important of all, where was the body hidden?

  Hearing the pills rattle in her purse, Sonja realized she might have a hint into an answer. Starting up her car, she drove back toward the hotel.

  Chapter 11

  Sonja was beginning to feel like she was running around in circles as she pulled back into the parking lot of the hotel for the second time that day. There was a tinge of shame for having left Alison running the diner all on her own, but she hoped that it would all be worth it.

  Not only would helping to solve this case and finding the missing dead body bring these strange events to a close, but it also meant Sonja could have her husband back.

  Pushing in the front doors, she headed to the second floor to the very room she’d visited only a couple hours earlier. Thinking back to her earlier conversation with Kamson, she couldn’t help but wonder what it was that he had almost slipped up in saying.

  She had a gut feeling that the little vitamin bottle in her purse was somehow related.

  Knocking hard on the door in question, she waited patiently for an answer. Folding her arms, she tapped her foot nervously. When no one came, she knocked again. She didn’t know why, but her heart was thudding in her chest. Could it be possible that she was about to walk into some sort of danger? Did this pill bottle hold something incriminating that was worthy of murder?

  Digging into her purse, she pulled out the bottle for a closer look.

  Just as she did, the next door over opened—Patty’s door.

  “Oh,” Sonja said, surprised. Her fingers fumbled with the bottle, dropping it back into the purse.

  “Sonja? What are you doing here again?” Patty asked, using the back of her hand to push down her messed up hair. It appeared she too had been lying down and trying to rest. She had a little touch of color more than earlier, but not much. She looked nearly as tired and haggard as Kamson had that morning.

  Stepping over in front of Patty’s door, Sonja smiled. “Sorry to bother you. I was looking for Kamson.”

  The young woman raised an eyebrow, a hint of suspicion twinkling in her eye. “Kamson? Why?”

  “Oh, I was talking to him earlier and had another thought I wanted to share with him. Nothing important, probably,” she lied. Patty had already been through the wringer the last two days, she didn’t need to be bothered more.

  Especially if what Sonja believed was possible turned out to be true. She knew Kamson held the answers.

  Patty nodded. “I see. Well, he just went out for a walk a little while ago, I’m afraid.”

  “Oh, no trouble. Sorry to bother you,” she offered, turning to go.

  “Hey, Sonja?” Patty called after her.

  “Yes?” Sonja returned, stopping.

  “I . . . I just wanted to thank you for the food. Kamson brought it to me when I came back to the room.”

  Sonja took a step back closer to the door, smiling. “I’m glad to be of help,” she admitted. “If there is anything else I can do.”

  “You’ve done enough already,” Patty said with a little smile.

  Sonja could tell she had been crying. Her eyes were so red and swollen that Sonja could only wonder about the headache the girl must have. She wondered if Patty would be all dried up of tears s
oon.

  “Well, like I said, it’s no problem. If you need a coffee or just someone to talk to, don’t hesitate to call me at the diner.”

  Patty chuckled, looking down timidly at her feet. “Small town waitresses are like the big city bartenders. Cheap therapy.”

  Sonja laughed out loud at this comment. While she was no expert on people or emotions, it was true that she often ended up as a sounding board for customers—especially the locals who’d come to trust her. She supposed it wasn’t all that different from a bartender in that sense. “Well, I better get going.” She said.

  Just before she turned to go, she spotted something on the bed in the room. It appeared to be a large black hard-shell case with a foam insert. Whatever fit into the insert was missing.

  Patty instantly caught her curious glance and turned to see what it was that had Sonja so interested. “Are you looking at the archery box?” she asked.

  “Is that what it is?” Sonja asked, eyeballing the strange container.

  “Yeah, Chandler. . .” she paused, swallowing back another wave of tears. “It held Chandler’s composite bow and his arrows.”

  Sonja could bet that the arrows that had been in that box matched the one used in the murder. “What happened to it?”

  She shrugged. “I have no idea. The sheriff came by earlier, asking to collect the bow and accompanying arrows. I-I guess Chandler told him they were in here and said that he was free to look at them.”

  Sonja found that odd. Why would the killer freely let the police pick up the murder weapon? “Why did Chandler bring all of this equipment?” she asked.

  “He has an upcoming tournament soon and he thought he might be able to get some practice while we were out here.”

  “So, he shoots professionally?” Sonja pressed.

  Patty remained silent, knowing that this fact only indicated that Chandler could be the murderer.

  What Sonja still didn’t get was why he would kill Ruby. Did it have to do with the vitamin bottle?

  “I see. So, the police have them now?”