* * *
In only a few short moments, people were being evacuated from the streets and into nearby buildings for safety—just in case the float exploded more than it already had. Between the small local police force, the volunteer firefighters, and the onsite paramedics, the air felt thick with tension.
So far, it seemed that most people were only being treated for shock. A handful of people who were closer to the street had minor first-degree burns, but nothing worse. It seemed that the only person who had truly been affected by the small disaster was Trivilli himself—whom Sonja could only assume was dead.
Sonja had opened her diner to anyone looking to find safety or a place to just rest a moment after such a shocking experience. Alison and Alex sat in a corner booth having a chocolate sundae with Cynthia. Thankfully, it appeared that the little girl wasn’t affected by the events because she was too young to completely understand what was going on. To her, it had just been a fun fireworks display.
Sonja was grateful that they weren’t too close to the explosion. Sonja’s father and mother were running around offering free coffee to anyone who wanted it, and free hot chocolate to the kids.
Everyone seemed to be calming down and taking the events fairly well. After all, while it had been a horrible accident, it could have been a lot worse. It was almost as if the float had been set up specifically to explode the way it did, shooting all its fireworks inward and upward and avoiding anyone in the streets.
Sonja couldn’t help but wonder if the whole thing had been planned.
Besides that, there was still something that was really bothering Sonja about the whole thing, something related to that radio sitting on the desk in the office.
If she didn’t know any better, she would have sworn that the sound she had heard on the radio the other morning had been the same sound of the explosion that had just occurred moments before.
Had it just been a coincidence? Was she imagining things that weren’t true? Or could that radio connect to the spirit realm and predict the future?
If she wasn’t so busy helping in the front of the diner she would be in the back giving the thing a look. More than that, she hoped Belinda was willing to help her because she had every intention of bringing the radio to the library later that day to figure out more about it.
Unfortunately, that would all have to wait.
After what seemed like ages of waiting on people, Frank stepped in the front door, making the little bell ding.
“Am I glad to see you,” Sonja admitted.
“I wish I came bearing better news,” he said, his face strained with worry.
“What is it?”
“Can we talk in the back, away from everyone else?”
“Sure thing.” Nodding at her parents to let them know she was heading into the back and to cover for her, she led Frank away into the kitchen. Grateful for the break from the chaos, she removed her apron and hung it up. “Mind if I brew another pot? I really need a boost right now.”
“I wouldn’t mind one myself,” he said, leaning against the counter a letting out a big whoosh of air.
“So, what’s up this time?” she asked, already aware of what the answer may be. Adding a fresh filter to the machine, she poured in a scoop of coffee grounds.
“Hoss Trivilli is dead. The paramedics just finished taking his body away to the morgue”
She shook her head disappointedly at this news. No matter how much she disliked someone, it never meant they deserved to die. “I figured as much. It’s hard to believe anyone would survive that.” Sonja poured in the water to the top of the machine and closed it, turning it on.
“The coroner will examine the body there.”
“Wow. How could something like this even happen? I thought Carol said that they were all dummies.” The trickling noise of the hot water beginning to fill the coffee pot echoed through the kitchen.
Frank’s face was grim with anger. “It was my responsibility to make sure those floats were all safe, and I just took her word when she told me they were all fake.”
“Well some of them were fake,” Sonja noted, remembering how the empty casing had caught fire and burned. That meant that there were other fireworks hidden throughout the piles. But why? “Maybe she accidentally got a few real ones mixed in.”
“I’m not so sure. That explosion looked like it was planned, and professional. Do you happen to know where Carol Bradshaw might be? Did she come in here at all?”
“Not at all,” she admitted, hearing the coffee pot ding. She knew what Frank was getting at. He thought that Carol might have planted the fireworks on purpose.
“Darn. I need to track her down.”
“Why?” Sonja asked pulling out two mugs and pouring the black brew into both.
“Clearly, she was lying.”
“Or made a mistake.” Sonja was really pushing for Carol, not liking the idea of the woman purposefully and willfully setting up a death trap on the float. Walking over to the counter where Frank was leaning, Sonja sat down on a stool and handed him a mug. “Maybe it was the engine or something that blew?” She knew she was grasping at straws now.
Frank shook his head. “It wasn’t. After the fire was put out, the chief and I checked the engine. It was in perfect condition.”
Sonja wasn’t surprised by this answer. “It was?”
“Yes. It was still purring like a kitten.”
“How did those fireworks end up on board?”
“You saw how they got on there.”
Sonja leaned onto the counter, cradling her coffee and trying to work it out in her head. “Why would Carol lie about something like that?”
“I have no idea. To keep both me and Trivilli happy? Maybe she just hoped nothing would go wrong. Maybe it was designed to do that, but later on when no one was on board. It could have been meant for part of the show tonight.”
“But that’s not what happened.”
“That’s the trouble.” Adjusting his belt, he stood up straight, his face stern and serious. “If she really was aware of live fireworks on board, she could be in serious trouble. The city could very likely press charges.”
“But it was just an accident,” Sonja pointed out. “Right?”
Frank rubbed his jaw as he thought. “I sure hope so, Sonj’. The fire chief is looking for an answer to how this whole thing started right now.”
“You don’t seriously think this was done purposefully?” she asked, not so sure herself. The strange coincidence of the explosion sound on the radio had her wondering. Had the blast been done intentionally to get Trivilli out of the way?
It was only too convenient that the explosion seemed directed at Hoss Trivilli—shooting inward and upward. He could have honestly been the target.
If that were all true, it meant that only someone with professional pyrotechnic skills could design it to blow up that way—which ultimately pointed a finger at Carol, the only person in Haunted Falls with those types of skills.
Sonja wasn’t liking the sound of things and hoped in her heart that it wasn’t true, that this was all one big accident.
As if in response to her current concerns, there was a knock at the kitchen doorway. Fire Chief Marston stood there, his skin slightly ashy from examining the aftermath. In one hand, he held a small metallic device. It was mostly burnt and charred, but a few wires stuck out of it still.
“Sheriff?”
“Come on in, Marston. Tell me what you’ve got.”
He held up the weird little contraption. “Sir, I hate to bring you this news, but that explosion wasn’t an accident.”
Sonja gasped audibly and Frank glowered at this bad news. “Are you sure?”
“Positive, this proves that the whole thing was electronically rigged to blow—most likely by remote.”
Sonja couldn’t believe it. This horrible fireworks fiasco was no accident.
This was murder.
CHAPTER 7
* * *
“We nee
d to find Carol, now,” Frank insisted, motioning for the fire chief to walk with him. “You can explain to me how this contraption works while I get to my car.”
The two men headed out the door without another word to Sonja, who still sat at the counter with her coffee mug in her hands. She knew this was officially a police matter now and, unless something supernatural popped up as being related to the case, Frank wouldn’t tell her another single thing about what was going.
Sonja wasn’t sure what to think. All she knew was that they had another murder on their hands, and she believed she had heard a warning of this disaster on the strange radio that had arrived mysteriously.
If nothing else, she could spend her time figuring out why the radio came to her, who had dropped it off, and why it had played the sound of that day’s tragic event.
Stepping into the office, she sat down in front of the old relic, staring it down. “What are you?” she whispered. Again, she began to doubt herself. Maybe the noise from the radio had been nothing more than a malfunction.
There was only one way to find out for sure.
Plugging the thing back in, she pulled the dial to turn it on. If she could replicate the experience and get another strange prediction from the future, she’d know that it truly had supernatural qualities.
For a moment, as the interior of the radio began to light up, she remembered a movie where a young girl had gotten sucked into a cursed TV set. Could it happen with a radio?
She shivered at that thought, pushing it aside.
The simple fact that the thing was lightning up again proved it wasn’t broken, at least not all the way. While having some experience with strange or haunted objects, she didn’t have a variable knowledge on them. Her hope was that maybe since the thing might be able to predict the future, that it might also reveal the murderer.
“Come on, give me something,” she whispered, turning the dial and listening to the static brush back and forth across the airwaves.
Suddenly, the white noise began to clear and a series of muffled sounds began coming through. At first, it sounded like a cat meowing in the distance, and Sonja wondered if Misty had somehow crawled inside. As the sound became clearer, with the slight twist of the dial, Sonja could make out a woman’s crying.
The sound was still slightly muffled, and for a moment she thought her reception still wasn’t very good (if you could measure a strange and psychic connection to the spirit realm based on a level of reception). Sonja realized after a moment that she was getting everything clearly.
If she wasn’t mistaken, she could swear the woman—whoever she may be—was gagged so she couldn’t talk, scream, or call for help. Only the pitiful tears managed to make it through whatever was blocking her mouth.
That’s why it sounded muffled.
Listening closely for any other clues of to what she had tuned into, Sonja could just make out the quiet noise of something crackling. A few low popping noises made her think that maybe a fire was burning nearby.
Suddenly, there was another voice, distinguishable and clear. “Pleasant dreams.”
The voice was familiar, way too familiar, but Sonja couldn’t place it yet.
Suddenly, the crackling noise grew louder.
The woman’s crying became more frantic, growing into horrific muffled screams for help.
Sonja felt her own heart racing just listening to it, not understanding what it was exactly she was hearing.
The screams became more frantic, the clear signs of someone desperately struggling for their life. Sonja wanted to turn the thing off, unplug it right then and there and be done with it. She knew she couldn’t.
The sound of the woman’s struggle turned from one of desperation to one of pain.
Soon, she was drowned out by the sound of bangs, crackles, and sparks—like fireworks were consuming the airwaves.
Then the radio went silent.
CHAPTER 8
* * *
Sonja ripped the plug from the wall, unable to listen for another second once she realized what was happening. She’d never been more disturbed in her entire life, and she’d experienced some very frightening and horrific things.
If this really was a prediction of a future event, Sonja knew she had to find a way to stop it. Unfortunately, she had no idea about where to start. Who could the woman possibly be who was crying in so much pain, and who was the murderer?
She shivered, just thinking about all of this.
The first assumption she drew was that, because of the noise of fireworks, that the murderer may be the same person who set off the explosion at the parade. If she was right in that respect, it would at least give her a place to start.
That meant she would need to talk to Carol Bradshaw. She knew Frank was out there looking for her now. Most likely, he’d take her in for questioning, then he might likely hold her on charges of endangering local citizens and destroying city property. It would be his way of keeping her in place until he could get more substantial evidence that she actually rigged the fireworks to explode.
Sonja didn’t blame him since Carol was the one who had designed the float and had the easiest access to blow it up.
But what could her possible motive be? Being angry at Mr. Trivilli for threatening to hire someone else hardly seemed like a good enough reason to kill a person in broad daylight.
She was determined to get to Carol before Frank and knew she needed to leave now. Without even bothering to go out and tell Alison or her parents she was leaving, she grabbed her jacket, picked up the old radio in her arms, and headed out the back door and climbed into her van.
After tracking down Carol, she’d need to find Belinda and figure out just how the radio worked.
What worried her the most is that she probably only had a few short days until the events she had just listened to came true. If she was right in her prediction, she needed to be fast in her investigation.
* * *
Sonja had a hunch of where Carol Bradshaw might be and wondered if Frank had thought of it first. It seemed like the most logical place to look, but in all the chaos of the explosion and doing investigations, it might have slipped his mind.
He might have gone to her office first.
Driving up the road toward Picker’s Field near the edge of town, Sonja slowed as the first raindrop hit her windshield. The sky had quickly darkened with the menace of a storm. One thing was for sure. If the fireworks on the float hadn’t ruined the Fourth of July celebrations in the small town, a large thunderstorm would.
It would mean the fireworks show would be canceled for sure.
Pulling up alongside the field, Sonja instantly saw Carol out in the center of the field with her truck. There were already multiple rows of fireworks set up, all wired together, and all connected to the console of electronics.
The pyrotechnician was wildly grabbing tarps to cover up her electronics and computer equipment before the storm rolled in.
Sonja got out and ran across the field, grabbing the other end of the tarp and helping to stretch it over the console.
“We need some for the fireworks, too,” Carol shouted, pointing at the rows in the dirt.
Sonja followed Carol’s lead, grabbing more tarps and using mini hand pegs to hold them down and protect the precious cargo. After a matter of a few short minutes, they’d managed to cover everything just as the clouds situated themselves above the field and opened their waterworks.
“In my truck,” Carol said, heading for the cab.
Sonja followed suit, climbing into the passenger side of the vehicle. Once safely inside, the rain really started to come down hard, filling the windshield with a waterfall.
“Wow, that was close.” Sonja adjusted herself in the seat.
“I was lucky you came up here when you did. Otherwise, we might be out of a fireworks show this year.”
“That would stink,” Sonja agreed, wondering if Carol knew what had happened earlier.
“By the way, what are
you doing out here?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at the young redhead.
Sonja swallowed uncomfortably, hardly wanting to be the bearer of bad news. “Actually, I wanted to let you know that the sheriff is looking for you.”
“For me?” Carol asked, clearly confused.
Now Sonja knew that the poor woman had no idea about the accident. Either that, or she was an excellent liar.
“Why would the sheriff be looking for me?”
“You haven’t heard?”
She shook her head. “Heard what?”
“Hoss Trivilli is dead. He died in a fireworks accident.”
Carol’s brow scrunched together, clearly not sure whether to believe Sonja or not. “A fireworks accident. What sort of accident?”
“The float you built for him that you said was filled with duds?” Sonja felt awkward even saying all of this. “It went up like a roman candle this morning during the parade. Trivilli was on board.”
This time, Carol’s eyes widened in pure shock. “You’re serious?”
“Very serious,” Sonja confirmed.
“But, how? There wasn’t a single live firework on the float. It’s impossible for it to have been a fireworks malfunction.” She clapped her hands defiantly. “It must have been the engine.”
“It wasn’t. Both Frank and the fire chief checked it out. The engine was completely untouched.”
“That doesn’t make any sense at all.”
“Frank is coming to ask you some questions about the float and what was on it.”
“What is there to say?” The woman was looking more and more distressed by the minute. “I swear there wasn’t a single firework on there.”
“None at all?” Sonja pressed.
Carol shook her head. “It was all casing. No powder, no ignitors, nothing.”
“Are you sure you couldn’t have made a just a small mistake?” Sonja pressed, wanting to be one hundred percent clear.
“Positive.”
Sonja wanted to believe her. In fact, she did believe her in her gut. Unfortunately, she didn’t know of anyone else who could have rigged the float the way it had been.
Fireworks and Waffles (The Diner of the Dead Series Book 18) Page 4