Hole-In-One Waffle (The Diner of the Dead Series Book 17)

by Carolyn Q. Hunter

“Great! It’ll be nice to have someone I know try it first.”

  Alison glanced down the table at the two, giving a curious nod toward the deputy. Sonja could only shrug. “So, why are you here at the club today? Looking to join?” she teased him. Opening the hot iron, she poured the chilled batter in a circle, leaving a hollow in the center like a donut. Closing it, steam began to sprout from the sides.

  Greg folded his arms importantly. “Mr. Manning wanted some police surveillance on the course today.”

  “Why?” Sonja asked, removing the lid from the large ice bucket that was filled with hard boiled eggs.

  “I guess there have been some random acts of vandalism lately.”

  “Mr. Manning mentioning that in passing,” she recalled. Slicing the cold egg in half, the yolk easily fell out into the bowl. Adding a dash of horseradish mustard, a pinch of salt, pepper, and smoked paprika, she mixed it all together. Scooping up the spiced yolk, she placed it back inside the egg white and then placed the two halves back together. “What kind of vandalism are we talking about?”

  “Branches ripped off trees, carts randomly driven out and left in sand traps, whole containers of golf balls just dumped into the water features, stuff like that.”

  “Do you have any leads on who might be doing it?”

  “My first thought was kids.”

  “That makes the most sense.” Opening the waffle iron, she pulled out the steamy, crisp waffle and set it on one of the blue and white dishes the club had provided for serving. She carefully removed any extra bits that had bled into the middle—creating a perfect circle in the center of the waffle.

  “But Mr. Manning seems sure that it’s one of his own club members.”

  Sonja raised an eyebrow. “Really? Why would they do that?”

  The deputy shook his head. “Who knows? Maybe someone has a vendetta against the club or Manning himself.”

  “I see.”

  “Anyway, I’m here to keep an eye on any suspicious behavior, try to catch any of the members who might be acting strangely. Pretty mundane really.”

  “Is Danny here, too?”

  “No. Unfortunately, he had to go out of town on a last-minute family emergency.”

  “That’s too bad.”

  “So, it’s just me and me alone for the next few days. Thankfully, nothing too big has happened and I’m pretty sure I can handle this vandal case on my own.”

  “Do you think it was one of the club members?” She asked now that they were back to vandalism. She pulled out a few thin slices of salted prosciutto and placed them on the grill.

  “I’m not sure, but my hunch is that guy.” He jabbed a discreet thumb across the grass toward Dustin.

  “Him?” Sonja asked, a little confused. She flipped the prosciutto and let the other side heat up for a few seconds.

  “Yeah, I guess he has a personal problem with Manning.”

  “I gathered that much myself. I overheard them arguing the other day,” she said, removing the meat from the grill and laying it across the waffle.

  “You heard them arguing?” he asked, his curiosity kicking in. “What did they say?”

  “Dustin Port was in Manning’s office. He insisted that there is a ghost haunting the golf course.”

  “Seems like he’s really cracking up in his old age,” Greg deduced, glancing back at the old man on the green.

  “There also seemed to be some tension around Dustin’s health.”

  “He used to be a professional golfer until he got in a car accident that totally wrecked his leg.”

  “So that’s what happened. I wondered how he got that limp.” Sonja took a handful of micro greens—mostly mustards—and placed them in the open middle of the waffle, creating a bed for the egg to rest on.

  “The guy’s best friend was hurt in the accident, too, and had to have major heart surgery just to survive. A few years after the accident, I guess it finally caught up to him and he died of a heart attack right here on the golf course.”

  “On the golf course?” Sonja gasped. Maybe that was why Dustin thought the golf course was haunted?

  “That’s right. Manning, wanting to preserve the club’s image, swept the whole thing under the rug, which made Port angry.”

  “But if Dustin really is the vandal, why wait until now to start?”

  Greg sighed, unfolding his arms and leaning on the table. “I have no idea. Maybe this tournament raised some competitive feelings for the guy?”

  “I could see that,” she agreed, thinking of the way the two men had argued about the tournament. “Dustin did seem pretty attached to doing well today.” Adding a few small bits of cut melon on top of the prosciutto the dish was nearly done. Drizzling the slightest amount of real maple syrup over the waffle, just for a hint of sweet flavor, she handed it to Greg. “Here you go.”

  Licking his lips, he took the plate. “Looks delicious. What is it?”

  “The Hole in One Waffle,” she announced proudly. “Microgreens, a deviled egg, prosciutto, and melon atop a classic waffle.”

  “Ah, I see. The egg looks like a golf ball in a hole,” he smiled, eyeing it carefully. “Is this meat cooked enough? It still looks raw.”

  “That’s the way it’s supposed to be. It’s cured so it’s ready to eat as is. I just grilled it for about five seconds on each side to activate its natural flavors,” she informed him.

  Greg shrugged. “I won’t complain. I hope it’s a hit.”

  “Me, too,” Sonja agreed.

  CHAPTER 5

  * * *

  By ten a.m. the golf tournament was just beginning. Sonja had served customer after customer the new waffle, all to rave reviews. In particular, the club members were impressed with her unique use of prosciutto. The line for food was beginning to thin out and most everyone was getting ready to either participate or watch the events unfold.

  Alison had encouraged Sonja to go and watch her father play for a while, and she gladly accepted.

  Walking away from the table, she examined the lineup of competitors. All the men stood in a row, standing up straight and showing off their clothes, clubs, and other accessories like a bunch of peacocks trying to impress the ladies.

  Her dad looked noticeably more awkward at the end of the line in his new fifteen-dollar cap he’d bought. He had shown the hat off proudly when he’d returned home from the store the day before. He’d even spent most of the evening polishing his clubs to a shine. Now, he looked like he wanted to sink into one of the holes on the course and hide his embarrassment about his attire and clubs.

  The back door of the clubhouse swung open, revealing Mr. Manning in as fancy and fine an outfit as anyone. All eyes were on him, leaving none to notice Sonja’s father, his hat, or his reddened face.

  “Hello, everyone,” Manning greeted the crowd, walking across the lawn toward the first hole, his caddy shuffling behind him with the hefty bag on his back—trying to keep up. A red handkerchief blew like a flag from one of the clubs. “I’m so glad you all could make it to today’s festivities.”

  Stepping up to the line of competitors, he spotted Samuel and smiled widely.

  Sam looked like he wanted to hide. For a man who had spent most of his life encountering ghosts, demons, witches, and worse, Sonja had never seen him so nervous and uncomfortable. He’d gotten so excited for the few days before the tournament, thinking he might have a lot of fun. It didn’t look like he was having any fun.

  She felt bad for making him show up.

  “Samuel Reed, I assume,” Manning beamed.

  Sonja’s father managed to force a smile. “That’s me,” he replied weakly.

  “Well, I’m sure glad you were able to come. You’ll be a breath of fresh air at today’s tournament,” he boomed, slapping him on the back.

  Sam started to perk up, like a turtle checking outside of his shell to see if everything was okay. “Thank you.”

  “I expect some hearty competition from you, more so than many of the other participan
ts here,” he scanned the line of men and caught Dustin’s eye.

  Dustin’s face turned momentarily red with fury, but it quickly subsided as he got himself under control.

  “You can be my partner for the first round.”

  “You want me as your partner?”

  “Right, sir, I do.” He motioned for Sam to follow him to the starting tee. “By the way, I love your hat. Where did you get it?”

  Samuel visibly smiled, warming Sonja’s worried heart.

  * * *

  The game got quickly underway, Sam and Paxton leading, with Dustin right behind. Much to Sonja’s delight, her father had hit under par on the first two holes, earning two hundred dollars for charity and receiving the warm praise of Manning.

  It seemed Paxton had taken a real liking to Sam, and Sonja had a feeling that they could potentially become good friends. If there was one thing her father needed badly, it was a friend.

  Passing off to the side, Sam and Manning paused to watch as the retired professional golfer stepped up to the second hole to prepare his shot.

  So far, Dustin hadn’t fared as well. His balls always seemed to arch off in a strange manner and land in sand traps, water features, and other miserable places.

  “Come on, Dusty. Let’s see how a professional does it,” Paxton encouraged from the sideline.

  The elderly gentleman didn’t take this as a compliment and glowered at the club president. Pulling back hard, he swung with all his force. The ball went sailing forward and Sonja was sure it was going to land just near the hole itself.

  Then, much to her surprise, the ball seemed to jut off sideways into a nearby sand pit, almost as if someone else had hit it while it was mid-air.

  “Ah, that’s a shame,” Manning called.

  “You be quiet,” Dustin responded.

  “Don’t worry. You’ll do better at the next hole. I’m sure of it.”

  “I said, be quiet,” he yelled.

  The other competitors and the patrons all started to quiet down in awe of what was happening. Someone was openly arguing with the club president. Greg took a cautious step forward, monitoring the situation closely.

  While Sonja understood that Manning was bantering a little, it didn’t seem that different from the behavior of men at other competitive sporting events. In fact, in Sonja’s opinion, he was being downright encouraging.

  Heck, he was polite enough not to speak or make any noise while others were putting.

  “My apologies, Dustin,” he nodded sincerely. “Please continue.”

  If Sonja didn’t know any better, she’d swear that Paxton Manning truly cared about Dustin.

  Making his way slowly down to where his ball had landed, he prepared to hit it again. Giving a gentle swing, the ball rose from the pit with an explosion of sand, but then seemed to stop midair as if caught by a heavy wind and came falling back into the pit.

  Sonja felt a tingle down her spine and got a distinct feeling that this wasn’t a natural occurrence. Making eye contact with her father, she could tell that he had felt the same thing. There hadn’t been a single gust of the wind, just the warmth of the mid-day sun.

  “Got to watch out for that breeze,” Manning commented, shaking his head.

  “There was no breeze,” Dustin barked.

  Manning only offered a shrug and a smile.

  “I’ve had about enough of you,” the older gentleman roared, limping on his leg out of the pit and toward Paxton.

  “Mr. Port, maybe you should just calm down,” Greg scolded.

  “Listen to the deputy, Dusty,” Manning agreed.

  “Stop calling me Dusty,” he shouted, continuing his charge.

  Sonja’s father quickly was in the mix, stepping between Manning and the charging man. “Now, come on, men. Is that any way to act at a charity event?”

  “Out of my way, you patsy,” Dustin exclaimed.

  “Please, Mr. Manning was only offering support.”

  “My eye, he was.”

  They were drawing quite a scene now. All the people who should have been golfing on the hole behind them had stopped to watch the action.

  Even Paxton’s caddy was standing watching with wide eyes.

  “Out of my way,” Dustin yelled at Samuel.

  Rearing back with all his force, Dustin swung toward Manning. Sonja’s father, still trying to keep the peace, sidestepped and took the blow directly to the chin.

  There were a few low gasps from the crowd as Samuel stumbled backward and fell on the grass.

  Within a second, Greg was dashing forward from the crowd and grabbing a hold of Dustin. “Now, that’s enough of that, Mr. Port,” the deputy ordered. “Another outburst like that and I’ll have to detain you.”

  “Let go of me,” the older gentleman growled, shaking off the cop and turning to limp angrily away toward his golf cart.

  In a second, he was off.

  “I guess he decided to drop out of the tournament,” Manning shrugged with a sigh. “Are you okay, my friend?” he asked, helping Samuel up.

  “I cut my lip a little,” he admitted. “I’ll run back to the clubhouse to wash it.”

  “Let me accompany you,” Manning offered, motioning toward his own golf cart. “Wait here for us,” he told the caddy, who looked less than thrilled to be just left standing there. “Everyone else, please play through while we’re gone. We’ll bring up the rear once we’re finished up at the clubhouse.”

  With that, they were off.

  Greg walked over to Sonja and shrugged. “I didn’t see that one coming. Now, I’m definitely leaning toward him as our vandal,” he admitted.

  “I don’t know,” Sonja replied quietly. “I get the feeling it’s something else.” She eyed the ball sitting in the sand nearby and felt the same shiver as before.

  CHAPTER 6

  * * *

  Sonja walked back toward the clubhouse, first to check on her father and then also to check on the food service table. Sonja was sure that Alison could handle the booth for the time being, but it never hurt to check. The bathrooms were on the far side of the building, where the course curved around at hole five past the parking lot and further into the trees.

  The strange occurrences with Dustin’s ball had her perplexed. It seemed to be a ghost of some kind that was throwing off all of his shots, but why? Why was it only targeting him?

  Was it the old golfing partner who had died of a heart attack on the green? Had he come back to make his presence known? Why would a close friend want to sabotage Dustin’s golf score? It seemed petty.

  Of course, Sonja knew it could be another entity completely. She wondered if anyone else had ever died on the golf course.

  She wasn’t sure how much all this mattered. It wasn’t like the spirit was really threatening anyone. It just seemed like it enjoyed messing with Dustin’s score. Shrugging it off, she decided it wasn’t worth all the energy for her to bother worrying about it.

  She was just walking around a small grove of trees near the beginning of the fourth hole when a low buzzing noise drew her attention.

  She looked up just in time to spot a fast-moving golf cart coming around the bend and blasting straight for her.

  Shouting in surprise, she dove off into the trees just as the cart breezed over the spot she’d been standing.

  “Are you insane?” she cried after the driver, unable to get a good look at him. From the back, all she could see was the hunched figure of someone in a gray hoodie. “What are they thinking? They could kill someone,” she whispered to herself, standing up and brushing her clothes off.

  Walking the rest of the way to the side of the building where the entrance to the locker rooms and bathrooms were, she poked her head in the door and shouted for her father. “Dad, are you in here?”

  “Is that Sonja?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’m almost done, hon. Be out in a second.”

  “K,” she responded, letting the door swing closed.

  She consi
dered walking to the other side of the building where the service tables were set up, just to check up on things, but figured she didn’t have enough time to walk all the way there and back before her father was done.

  Surely enough, the door swung open seconds later. “Hi, Sonj’,” he greeted his daughter with a smile.

  “How’s the lip, Dad?”

  “Fine. Nothing too serious. It mostly shocked me more than anything else.”

  “Who would have thought that old guy would be a fighter?”

  “True,” he agreed. “And that he’d actually punch that hard.”

  “So, you’re okay?”

  “Yeah, but I am honestly concerned about Dustin.”

  “Because of the what happened out there?”

  “There was no physical way that the golf ball should have done any of those things. I’d say it has to be a ghost.”

  “I’d agree with you there,” Sonja responded. “In fact, the other day I overheard Dustin telling Manning that he thought the golf course was haunted.”

  Samuel raised an eyebrow at this comment. “Really? You mean he knew he was haunted and still participated in the tournament anyway?”

  Sonja nodded. “From the little I heard, it seemed like Dustin was really hoping to redeem himself today. I guess the ghost didn’t scare him off.”

  “But it doesn’t want him here?”

  “Who knows? The only person I know of who died on the golf course was Dustin’s old golf buddy.”

  “You think his golf buddy is haunting him?”

  “That would be my guess, but I can’t say for sure. Why would an old friend try to ruin Dustin’s one last shot at success on the golf course?”

  “Any number of reasons,” Sam pointed out. “Either way, I wonder if we should do something about it?”

  “You mean try to get this ghost to cross over?”

  “Right.”

  “It’s not like it’s doing anything dangerous.”

  “I suppose not. I just don’t trust spirits to stay that way.” Her father, having encountered more than his fair share of ghosts and demons in his life, was far more skeptical about the trustworthiness of any spirit than Sonja.