Bacon Caramel Murder (Wicked Waffle Paranormal Cozy Mysteries Book 2)

by Carolyn Q. Hunter

  Waiting for a moment, she tried to sense anything there, but came up cold.

  It was nothing more than a hunk of metal.

  Determined, she continued down the steps and around to the side of the building. Placing her hand on the bricks, she walked carefully, brushing her palm over the wall as she went. Inch by inch, she remained astute for any of the familiar spine-tingling sensations she’d come to associate with the presence of ghosts.

  Heightening her own senses, she felt each groove and imperfection in the bricks, noticed the changing variation in the grass beneath her feet, and even took note of the crisp smell of autumn in the air

  Finishing an entire side of the building in a matter of a few minutes, she was disappointed to not have felt a single supernatural tingle. Maybe, for once in her time in Haunted Falls, there wasn’t a ghost attached to this murder.

  Turning the corner, she touched the wall again, this time only half-heartedly. She expected it to feel just like the other walls.

  Instantly, she drew her hands away and gasped. The bricks were warm to the touch.

  While it was still early autumn, and the truly chilly days hadn’t set in yet, the night’s temperature was low enough that the building shouldn’t feel warm to the touch. It was almost as if it had been sitting in the sun for the past few hours.

  Reaching out again, she put her palm to the wall, feeling the heat. On a second inspection, it was almost as if there was some sort of energy pulsing along the bricks. She knew, if this was anything supernatural, it would lead her to answers she was seeking.

  Following the pattern of the invisible stream, she made her way closer to the back end of the building where the gym and auditorium were situated. The gym was a looming specter, standing multiple stories high.

  The familiar tingle she was seeking crawled up and down her spine. There was something here.

  She waited a moment, continuing to feel the pulsing energy and wondering what it might be trying to say. She’d read stories about buildings having their own spirit of sorts and Sonja considered that perhaps she was communicating with whatever energy inhabited the rooms of the school.

  Moving past the gym, Sonja turned the corner again.

  That’s when something moved in the distance, something short and fast. A flash of a shadow darted near the stage door to the auditorium.

  Sonja froze instantly in place, wondering what exactly it was she’d just seen.

  Waiting a moment in silence, she inched closer to the doorway, wondering if whatever it was had jumped in the bushes nearby.

  “Hello?” she whispered.

  In a flash, the strange little shadow leapt from behind its leafy hiding place and barreled into Sonja, knocking her flat on her back in the nearby grass. Letting out a little moan of pain, she realized that something was standing over her, breathing.

  Its face was made up of little more than a grinning skull.

  CHAPTER 12

  * * *

  In the next moment, fear dissolved into recognition. It wasn’t a skull head at all, just a simple Halloween mask.

  “M-Ms. Reed?” the masked assailant asked.

  “Sam? Sam Sander?” Sonja gasped. He wore his same woolen jacket as before with the same missing button, and despite the disturbing Halloween skeleton mask on his face, she could easily guess it was him.

  In an instant, the boy peeled the mask from his face. “I-I’m so sorry, Ms. Reed. I had no idea it was you. Are you okay?”

  “Just a little shocked is all. I don’t scare easily.”

  “Here. Let me help you up.”

  “I can manage,” she told him, pulling herself to her feet.

  “I’m really, really sorry,” he apologized again.

  “What the heck are you doing out here, Sam? It’s nearly nine-thirty. Won’t your mother be worried?”

  The young man looked down at his feet and whispered something that Sonja couldn’t make out.

  “What was that?” she pressed.

  “I said, she thinks I’m in bed.”

  “Well, you most certainly are not in bed. Isn’t your room on the second floor of your house? How did you get out?”

  He gave a timid shrug. “I snuck out through the window.”

  Sonja gawked at him in surprise. “You jumped from the second story window?”

  “Well, not exactly jumped. I sort of lowered myself by hanging onto the ledge and then dropped down. It wasn’t that far.”

  Sonja paused. “Now, hold on. You still haven’t told me why you’re out here.”

  “I just wanted to go for a walk,” he lied poorly.

  Sonja placed her hands on her hips and raised a knowing eyebrow. “A walk? Really?”

  “That’s right. Sometimes I like to go for walks at night. Helps me clear my mind, ya know?”

  Sonja reached down and took the skeleton mask from him. “And do these walks always involve Halloween masks?”

  He looked away. “I like to wear them.”

  Sonja decided she’d had enough. “Okay, buster. Spill. You were not just out for a walk and you don’t just enjoy wearing Halloween masks around town for no good reason. Someone might have mistaken you for a burglar.”

  Realizing his poorly laid plan wasn’t working out, he confessed. “I was trying to get into the building.”

  “Get in the building? What for?”

  “I had to.”

  “Don’t you realize there was a murder here last night? What you’re doing isn’t only irresponsible, it’s also dangerous.”

  “I just had to come back,” he blurted out.

  At this comment, Sonja folded her arms. “Come back? So, you’ve done this before?”

  No answer from Sam.

  “You didn’t happen to plant a Halloween mask inside of the janitor’s closet, now did you?”

  His lips were quivering with fear and shame at that point.

  “Well?” she demanded.

  “We weren’t trying to hurt anyone.”

  “We?”

  “Yeah, me, Dillion, and Brian.”

  Sonja shook her head in complete disappointment. “So, they were in on it, too, huh?”

  “We just wanted to teach that ol’ stick in the mud a lesson for canceling our Halloween party.”

  “You mean Principal Heins?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And why did you need to come back tonight?” she asked again, wanting a straight answer.

  In a motion that reminded Sonja of a humbled monk giving an offering to an altar, the boy held out a little fist and slowly opened it to reveal what he’d come for.

  It was one large round button that matched his jacket.

  Sonja sighed. “I see. You lost that the night you broke in to play the prank?”

  He nodded. “We almost got caught because we knocked into one of the trash cans in the hall. We were going so fast that I didn’t notice it pop off.” He went quiet as he formulated the next part of his explanation, like a convict trying to plead for an early release. “Then, when you said the sheriff would be looking for the murderer, I worried he might find the button.”

  “And think it was you?” she asked, somewhat surprised that this had been a serious concern for the boy.

  “I didn’t do it, honestly.”

  “Of course, not. But you were scared that the sheriff might think that?”

  He nodded again.

  “Well, I think you’re safe in that regard. No one is going to bring a murder charge against you. However, you will have to tell your parents and Sheriff Thompson about the prank.”

  “I will?” he exclaimed, his face filled with fright once again.

  “Yes, you will. You have to face the consequences of your actions.”

  The boy’s shoulders slumped. “Okay,” he whispered.

  “Good,” Sonja said. Glancing toward the chained auditorium door, she couldn’t help but wonder. “How did you get into the building tonight to get that button? You did say it popped off inside, right?
”

  Sam looked up at her. “Yeah. It did.”

  “But that door is chained and locked. I don’t see how you could have possibly gotten through.”

  Sam turned back to look at the door. “Well, it doesn’t lock, not really. It only looks like it locks.”

  “Is that so?”

  “During the summer, they always do a kid’s acting program here at the school. My mom signed me up for it, you see. One of the days, me and the guys were bringing in a new set piece—this big metal fence thing—we ended up banging it up against the door jamb on accident.” He pointed at the large metal rod running between the doors. “It bent it just enough that the door doesn’t latch all the way. All you have to do it push it in and out real hard and it comes undone.”

  Curious, Sonja walked over to the doorway and did exactly as the young boy had instructed, pushing in with a slam and pulling out. The door came free from the latch and stood slightly ajar, the chains not quite holding it all the way closed.

  “They always put those chains on at night, but never tight enough to keep the doors closed all the way.”

  She pulled until the chain between the two handles was taught. There was just enough room for someone small to squeeze through into the darkened backstage area of the auditorium.

  “That’s how I lost my button. I was rushing to squeeze through before the principal caught us.”

  Sonja firmly shut the door again. “Who else knows about this?”

  “Only Dillion and Brian, I think. After the acting classes ended, we used to just come and hang out in the building,” he admitted shamefully.

  “And you’re positive no one else has ever figured this out?”

  “Not that I know of.” Sam paused a second, as if he’d just remembered something.

  “What?”

  “Well, there was one time that a car was parked back here.”

  “Was there anyone in the car?”

  “No. We even checked.”

  Sonja mused on this new fact. “Maybe someone did see you.”

  Sam’s face twisted up in confusion. “Why wouldn’t they tell on us?”

  Sonja looked down at the young man with a grim expression. “Because they didn’t want anyone else to know about it.”

  Sam’s face went pale with realization. He hesitated to say the next thought that had popped into his head. “You mean, you think the killer snuck in through this door?”

  Sonja didn’t answer. “Come on. I’ll drive you home.”

  CHAPTER 13

  * * *

  After making sure that Sam made it safely home, and that he fully confessed what he’d done to his parents, she informed them that they should expect a call or visit from Sheriff Frank Thompson the next day.

  Climbing back into her van, she debated whether to call Frank right then or wait until the morning. She settled on sending him a text message to call her back as soon as he could. She mentioned that she might have a new important piece of evidence for the murder case as well.

  Sonja headed home for the night, the back door of the auditorium weighing on her mind. Could it really be possible that the murderer had known about the door’s secret and snuck in to kill Principal Heins? If so, who had done it and why?

  * * *

  The back of The Waffle Diner and Eatery had various cooking supplies and ingredients spread out in an orderly fashion, all prepared for loading into the catering van. Sonja held a clipboard and pen in hand, checking off each item one by one before starting the process of packing up.

  Her plan was to store all the equipment and ingredients in the school’s kitchen overnight so that when she woke up the next morning, she could easily just head over and begin cooking without worrying about whether she had the necessary items. The easy part was the candied items. She’d spent the morning cooking them up, knowing that they would store nicely until the festival the following day. The only things that needed to be prepared at the school proper were the waffles and hot chocolate.

  “Need any help with that?” a man’s voice echoed from the open kitchen door.

  “Frank.” Sonja smiled, looking up at him.

  “I was just on my way back to the station from the Sander’s house and thought I’d stop by to say hello.”

  Setting the clipboard down in the back of the van, she walked over and hugged him, giving him a quick peck on the lips. “How did it go?”

  “I’m glad the boy told us, but I think he’s tortured himself enough for one hundred punishments.”

  Sonja laughed quietly, shaking her head. “You’re going to be one of those parents, huh?”

  “Hey, I’m just saying. He made a mistake and is owning up to it.”

  “Yes, but only after I caught him.”

  Frank smirked knowingly. “You’re right, as always.”

  “And don’t forget it.”

  “I won’t.”

  She smiled knowingly. “Now that you know about the secret of the back door, where do you go from here?”

  Placing his hands on his hips, he looked down at the dirt beneath his feet and back up at his girlfriend again. “I appreciate the tip, but the case is officially closed.”

  Sonja’s jaw dropped open. “You figured out who the murderer is?”

  “More or less. That’s the real reason I stopped by. I wanted you to know I arrested the killer.”

  Sonja, trying not to seem too overly invested, started lifting boxes into the van. “Oh? So, who was it?”

  “The janitor, Decker Partle. I finally tracked him down and brought him in for questioning. He confessed to the whole thing.”

  Sonja was honestly shocked to hear this, hardly believing her ears. Spinning on her heel, she faced Frank. “Seriously?”

  “His memory of that night is a little fuzzy, thanks to his drunken fog, but he remembers being in the office and remembers Heins being there. He says the victim completely ignored him.”

  Sonja remembered Partle saying that same thing the night of the murder.

  “He also remembers losing his temper. You saw how inebriated he was—and angry.”

  Sonja bit her lower lip. “I’m still not sure. If he can’t remember actually killing him, how can you be sure it was him?”

  “Come on, Sonj’. You saw him come stumbling out of the building in a drunken panic yourself. He was the only person actually seen at the scene of the crime, and he himself admits to having an angry fit.”

  “What about the alcohol smell?”

  “He remembered trying to polish the name plate on the office door, or at least offering to, and guessed he must have tried using rubbing alcohol, or some sort cleaner with an alcohol base.”

  Sonja took a seat on the end of the van. “It just doesn’t make sense to me.”

  Frank let out a quiet groan of complaint. “That’s it, Sonja. The case is closed. Decker killed Principal Heins while he was drunk.”

  “Well, what about the splotch of make-up on his collar? What about Cherry?”

  “I assure you, I’ve pieced it all together. Now, I wanted to give you the courtesy of knowing the case was closed. That’s that. Nothing more.”

  Sonja nodded in response but didn’t verbally agree with him. There was just something that didn’t add up. The smell in the office was strong, and it was the same smell—although much fainter—in the bathroom with the paper towels in the trash. Surely there was some sort of connection there. Maybe the killer had tried washing some blood off their hands with alcohol.

  Last of all, the auditorium door was a concern. Sonja’s gut feeling told her that it was somehow involved in the case.

  Shaking her head, she decided there was nothing to be done about it now. She had the festival to worry about.

  “Anyway, thanks for coming and letting me know.”

  “You’re welcome,” he said, his smirk returning. Lifting one of the heavier looking boxes he asked, “Where does this one go?”

  CHAPTER 14

  * * *

  Larg
e butcher paper cutouts of brown, orange, and red leaves lay strewn around the gymnasium floor, each awaiting its chance to be hung up along the walls. A few of the other volunteers had already put up a huge brown paper tree along the closed bleachers. A façade of fake pumpkin and cornucopias were taped along the bottom around the trunk of the tree, giving the whole room a cozy feeling.

  Sonja was busy setting up a booth where she would be serving waffles, drinks, and candy the next morning. A fall patterned cloth was draped over the plastic table-top. Sonja stood on a ladder setting up an overhang that made the whole booth appear like a farm stand you’d sometimes find along the road in rural areas.

  Donna was casually walking around the room, checking on the progress of everyone’s work, but doing very little to lend a helping hand.

  It was when Sonja’s companion at the booth, Mrs. Crawford the drama teacher, noticed her staring that she said something. “You know, she never does a single thing to help on occasions like this.”

  Looking away from Donna, Sonja felt her cheeks grow a little red from embarrassment. She’d just been thinking how odd it was that Donna wasn’t doing a single thing to help.

  “She is willing to boss everyone around and call the shots, but she never actually does a lick of work when it comes down to it.”

  Sonja, finished with stapling the red and white butcher paper to the wooden overhang and climbed down to have a quieter conversation. “Why is that?”

  “She never wants to mess up her make-up or nails. I say, if you know you are going to spend the day working with a hands-on project, don’t even bother with all that stuff.”

  “I’d have to agree. I rarely, if ever, wear make-up when I’m taking on a shift at the diner.”

  “See, you understand.”

  “Has anyone ever talked to her about it?”

  “People have tried, but she can be real nasty.”

  “I see,” Sonja acknowledged. While she’d assumed Donna might be a little bossy, based on her attitude during earlier conversation, she had no idea that the woman could be downright mean. Picking up a small can of paint from the table, Sonja looked about for a brush.