“Hi, my name is Sonja Reed.”
“Am I supposed to know who that is?” he shot back.
“No, actually. I’m a reporter for the Haunted Falls News.”
“Oh, yeah?” He chuckled, showing off his pearly white teeth behind the forest on his upper lip. “I thought you were the pizza guy. My apologies.” He picked up the remote and turned off the television.
“It’s no problem, really.” Standing up, he moved across the room, dragging his chair along, and set it at the table. “What can I do for you, Mrs. Reed?”
“Just, Miss, actually.”
“Whatever makes you happy, hon.” He sat back in his chair at the table. A stack of bills sat there, awaiting the pizza guy. “Have a seat.”
Sonja nodded, pulling out the only other chair, and sitting down. “I was wondering if you’d mind answering some questions about the recent murder in Haunted Falls.”
“You mean Cooper Rickerson?”
She nodded.
“I didn’t do it, if that’s what you’re here to ask,” he defended nonchalantly.
“No, no, just trying to get an inside scoop.”
“If you wanted a scoop, you should have been at the pool hall the other night with the rest of the reporters, am I right?”
“Well, you see, I’m doing sort of a follow up.”
“Ah, makes sense.” He tapped the table with two fingers, as if he were calling for a card during a game of blackjack. “What can I do you for?”
“First of all, it is my understanding that you were playing a game of pool with the victim the night he died.”
He held up one finger. “Correction, I was winning a game against him.”
“I see.”
“Believe me, I play with the louse almost every time I come into town. He stinks at pool.” Grabbing a few peanuts out of a small glass dish on the table, he popped them into his mouth. “Gosh, I’m starving. Where is that pizza?”
“So, you were winning?”
“That’s right.”
“Did the victim owe you any money before he left the building to go smoke?”
“Of course not. I never play for anything else but cash on the table. I can’t spend IOUs, you know.”
“I guess not, but did he happen to owe you money from any of the other times you two played together?”
“Nope. Nadda.”
“I see,” she nodded.
“Hey, aren’t you going to write any of this down?”
Sonja realized her slipup. If she was a reporter she would need to have a recording device or a pen and paper handy to make the charade seem more realistic. She’d only said she was a reporter to make asking questions easier. What would have happened if she’d just said something like, Hi, I’m the sheriff’s girlfriend. Can I ask you come questions?
He would have laughed in her face. Of course, based on his behavior so far, maybe not. Maybe he would have just talked to her willy-nilly either way. Seemed like that was the kind of guy he was.
“Um, I’ve been recording this conversation with a device in my bag,” she said, hoping he’d buy it. A device? Really?
“Ooooh, a concealed deal, huh?”
“That’s right,” she lied.
“Neat,” he said, grabbing more nuts and eating them, getting dust in his mustache as he did.
“So, he didn’t owe you money?” she asked, returning to the original conversation.
“No, but I’m pretty sure he owed a hefty sum to some other folks.” He smirked wildly like he had a big secret.
“Like whom?”
“Sharks, you know?”
“Can you be more specific?” she pressed.
“I don’t have names or anything, babe.”
Sonja cringed at the strange pet-name.
“However, Rickerson was sort of a blabbermouth. He always rattled off his latest stupidities to me while we played. It’s one of the things I look forward to when I come into town.”
“Do you believe someone else had him killed because he didn’t pay his debt?”
“I’m saying that it’s possible, yes. When you’re betting big bucks on racetracks and stuff, you’re playing with some big spenders.” He snapped his fingers and his face took on a grim expression. “And some big hitters, too, if you know what I mean.”
She nodded. “I think I do.” Sonja had only ever seen it in movies, where debt collectors sent someone to kill off a lousy player. It stank of nineteen-forties gangster films. Somehow, she doubted that this was the answer to the murder.
If anything, the ghost was involved. And if it truly was just a normal murder like Frank had said, Sonja was betting the culprit was someone in town—maybe even Jack Peters.
“Did you happen to see the body?”
“Sure did. Wouldn’t miss a show like that for the world.”
It was an odd and somewhat sickening answer in Sonja’s opinion.
“It was nasty, you know? I’ve never really seen a dead body. Not up close like that. Heck, it looked like he’d been skewered—cut straight through with a sword.”
There was the sword again. Now Sonja had two witnesses who thought it could be sword that killed Rickerson. More and more she was beginning to believe that the ghost truly had something to do with all of this.
Another hard knock on the door echoed through the room.
“Come in,” he called.
The door opened and a pimply looking teenager with a pizza box stepped into the room. “Delivery for Mr. Peters.”
“That’s me kid, money and tip is on the table.”
The delivery boy walked over and set the box down, picked up the money and counted. Sonja instantly felt her stomach do a little flip-flop when she realized it was one of the kids who sometimes showed up to play games on Friday nights.
Sonja quickly started gathering up her own bag onto her shoulder, hoping to get out of there before she got caught.
“Mrs. Reed, do you enjoy pizza?”
“I’m good,” Sonja said a little too frantically.
“Well, you’re more than welcome to a slice or two if you like.”
“Ms. Reed?” the boy asked, his eyes widening with surprise. “What are you doing here?”
“Well, I should be going,” she interrupted the kid, ready to get out of there.
“Oh, t-thanks for the tip mister,” the delivery boy said, following Sonja outside.
“Suit yourself,” Peters called from inside, chomping down on his first slice.
They shut the door behind them and Sonja let out a big sigh.
“Do me a favor, Tank. Don’t tell the sheriff you saw me here.”
The boy raised an eyebrow. “What were you doing in there, Ms. Reed?”
Sonja dug deep into her purse and handed the boy a twenty-dollar bill. “Just keep it between us, okay?”
Tank smiled at the cash. “No problem, Ms. Reed.” Turning around, he headed for the beat-up pizza delivery truck.
CHAPTER 12
* * *
Driving back down the road into town, Sonja headed for the diner. While it was her day off and Alison was the manager in charge that day Sonja, as the owner, liked to pop in unexpectedly to see how things were going. Also, she wanted to see if the diner was even open for business or if the power outage had stalled all service for the day.
Besides that, she just felt like she needed a break from the craziness of ghosts and murders. Despite it being her everyday work, cooking waffles had its own Zen-like qualities for her. Cooking up a fresh batch always helped her to think things through. If she could clear her mind and consider all of the facts, she might be able to figure out how she could prove to Frank that this barbaric ghost was committing murders.
The only question now was, had the power been turned back on in this section of the town yet?
Driving into the back parking lot, Sonja spotted a truck with the electric company logo on the door. Sighing in frustration, Sonja assumed that was the answer to her question.
> The power wasn’t back on yet.
Parking and climbing out, she spotted a worker in a hard hat wearing gloves and standing on a ladder against the diner. They held a long orange pole of sorts, just like the one Deena had been carrying the night before, and were using it to maneuver wires.
Sonja assumed it was a safety measure, sort of like an extended arm with a claw on the end.
As she approached the backside of the building, she glanced up at the worker. “Hello,” she called.
The worker let out a quiet yelp, surprised by the sudden presence of the person below, and lost their grip on the extender pole. The orange tool clunked on the roof and slid down, heading for Sonja.
She quickly leapt backward, managing to get out of the way just in time. The heavy tool hit the ground where she had been standing with a thud, the handle coming out slightly from the body revealing a glinting metal interior.
“Oh, my gosh. I’m so sorry. Are you okay?” the worker asked, climbing down.
When she reached the bottom, Sonja realized she recognized the woman. It was Deena from the night before.
“Oh, Deena.”
“Sonja? It is Sonja, right?”
“Yeah. That’s right.”
“Seriously, I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay. I’m fine, really,” she smiled, showing she was a-okay.
“I’m glad. The last thing I need is a work accident on my hands.”
“It’s partially my fault for sneaking up on you,” she admitted, giving a timid shrug.
“Anyway, I’m sorry.” Bending over, Deena picked up the orange pole and pushed the handle back into place with a metallic clank.
“Seems like a pretty handy thing,” Sonja noted. She assumed the pole had the ability to extend its handle out farther, allowing for a further reach and grip when working with powerful lines.
“It is. When you’re working with as much electricity as this, you don’t want to be handling it directly. Even with the thickest rubber work gloves, it’s extremely unsafe.”
“I don’t doubt it,” Sonja agreed, glancing up at the roof where Deena had been working.
“A few of the lines connected to your building came off, so I’m working on that. Getting them hooked back up so you can have power—be back in business.”
“I assume my partner just kept the place closed for the day,” she admitted.
“That would make the most sense.”
“So, how much longer do you think it will take?” she asked, putting a hand on her hip.
“This part? Another half-hour, hour maybe?”
“Oh, that isn’t so bad.”
“But it’ll be longer before power is back up. I’ve got this, and my boys are working on other downed lines around town. After that, we’ll work on getting the full grid back up.”
Sonja pursed her lips to one side. “And how long do you think that’ll be?”
Deena sighed, shaking her head. “Probably late afternoon or evening.”
“Darn,” she muttered.
“I know it’s frustrating, but we’re working as fast as we safely can.”
“Where is the transformer that was struck by lightning? I mean, that was it, right?”
“It was. It’s a large relay generator that passes the energy from the central power plant to this town.”
“And where is that?”
“Just down the road, near that pool hall.”
Sonja’s jaw dropped. “Where the murder happened?”
“That’s the one. The sheriff was telling me all about it last night when we met up.”
“Wow. I guess that is just a location filled with ill luck.”
“I guess it is, but we’ll get to fixing it all up soon enough. I’m sorry we can’t have anything done faster.”
“Oh, I don’t blame you guys at all. That storm just knocked a lot out.”
“It’s true, this area hasn’t had an outage of this magnitude in probably ten years.”
Sonja raised a curious eyebrow. “You’ve worked for the power company that long?”
Deena let out a small laugh. “Hardly. I’ve only been located here for about six months at most. But, as a supervisor it’s my responsibility to keep up on the history of each area I’m over, marking down trouble spots, knowing the full grid, knowing what areas need extra attention.”
“I guess that makes sense,” Sonja agreed.
“Anyway, I’ve only been a supervisor for this company a little while.”
“What were you doing before that?”
“I actually did a lot of private work for large corporations, maintaining and fixing the power in large buildings and complexes.”
Sonja had to admit, electrical work was something she knew very little about. “Sounds exciting.”
“Not really. Honestly, working for those big shots gets old. They always have all sorts of orders and preferences. I was bounced around like a pinball for them. But after my most recent job for them, I’m done.”
“Your most recent job?”
“Yeah, I had some overlap between working for the power company here and an old contract, but now I’m finished.”
Sonja glanced at her watch. It was already two in the afternoon. “Well, I have some other things to do. I better get a move on.”
“As do I. It was nice meeting you and talking,” she said.
“You too,” Sonja agreed, smiling as she headed back to her van.
CHAPTER 13
* * *
Sonja, with still no hard evidence to prove that the wandering specter was connected to the recent murder, decided to return to the beginning source of the issue. The die.
While she wasn’t currently in possession of the item, she could still go and talk to Cass about it. Most important, Sonja wanted to ask the young teen about the character she had created for Wizards and Warlocks. If she only had more information, perhaps she could figure out if the spirit was truly a construct of Cass’s imagination or an age old Roman ghost.
Pulling up outside The Lucky Leprechaun, an Irish themed tourist shop, Sonja parked across the street and got out.
Cass’s Aunt Pan owned the shop and the two of them lived in an upstairs apartment on the second floor of the building. Pan was Cass’s legal guardian.
Walking up to the front door, Sonja stepped inside. The store was cluttered with various antiques, collectibles, and souvenirs all in an Irish theme.
“Hi, Sonja,” came a familiar voice from behind the checkout counter. Cass stood there with a smile on her face, much happier than she was the previous night when she’d been trapped in the diner. She’d been leaning on the counter looking bored but had perked up quickly upon realizing it was Sonja coming in.
“Hey, Cass. Pan has you running the register?”
“Yeah, it isn’t so bad.” She shrugged. “Besides, this way I make some extra spending money.”
“She pays you?”
“Yep, the same wage as other employees. It’s nice.”
Sonja chuckled quietly. “I suppose going to the movies and buying snacks requires at least a small income.”
“I mostly spend it on music. I also thought about getting my own copy of Wizards and Warlocks, too.”
“Sounds like a fun investment.”
“It is,” she beamed. “I’m actually really looking forward to Friday. It’s going to be a blast.”
Sonja thought of the game night and felt a small surge of anxiety. She’d been so worried about ghosts and murders that she’d nearly forgotten about all of the stuff she needed to get done before the weekend. There were the snacks, the special cake, and her new limited edition waffle she was creating just for the event.
She’d not told anyone about the waffle yet, but was excited about it nonetheless.
“So, what can I do for you?” Cass asked, coming around the counter onto the sales floor.
“Actually, I came to talk to you about Wizards and Warlocks.”
Blinking in confusion, Cass
stepped closer to Sonja. “What do you mean?”
“Well, your character you made. Can you tell me more about her?”
“You were there when I made her. Heck, you helped me with a lot of the decision making.”
Sonja nodded. “I know that, I do. What I meant was, did you have a vision for what kind of person she is. You know? Morals, backstory, motivations? Things like that.”
“Oh,” Cass exclaimed, surprised by the questions being asked. She chewed her bottom lip for a second while she thought about it. “I wanted her to be like the Warrior Queen, you know?”
“Yes, you mentioned that. How do you imagine that applies to your character?”
Cass walked in a circle around an old grandfather clock, her hands clasped behind her back and a slight skip in her step.
“It’s not a test or anything. I was just hoping to help you really feel out your character before we play this weekend. After all, role-playing is more than just rolling dice. It’s also sort of like acting.”
Cass stopped her circle, poked her head out from behind the clock, and gave a firm nod. “Understood.”
“So?”
“Basically, she’s a warrior of justice, a champion of the weak.”
“A champion?”
“Yep. She sees someone in trouble or with a problem, she goes out of her way to help and protect them.”
Sonja mulled this over, trying to apply it to the ghost’s behavior. “Is there anyone or anything she hates?”
“Oh, yeah. She hates those who take advantage of others. Any misdeed or injustice and she swoops in to take control of the situation. Unfortunately, she also has a slight temper and might lash out when she’s in a bad mood.”
“So, she’s a lawful and good character?”
“Good, not so lawful. Sometimes she goes against the law to do what’s right.”
“I can see that,” Sonja agreed.
“But, yeah. She’s a good character.”
Sonja instinctively sighed.
“Is that bad?”
“Oh, no, no. Of course, not.” She couldn’t tell the truth that perhaps they had accidently created a ghost with pure imagination—and the assistance of an ancient stone. On the other hand, if she was a good character, why would she kill Rickerson?
Games, Ghouls, and Waffles (The Diner of the Dead Series Book 19) Page 6