Thanksgiving Waffle Murder

by Carolyn Q. Hunter

  “Did you not see the gate which you just passed through?”

  “Yeah, and it was wide open. Now move,” he shouted, revving the engine of his rusted sports car.

  Sonja didn’t move and refused to be intimidated by some petty thug. Stepping forward, she placed her hands on the hood. “The gate is open because there has been a murder and the cops needed to come through,” she retorted, hoping the idea of a homicide would force him to turn back.

  “So, what?” he barked. “I’m just trying to get through. I have nothing to do with a murder.”

  “This isn’t a through road,” Sonja reiterated.

  “Move outta my way. My girlfriend came through here.”

  “Your girlfriend didn’t come through here,” she yelled, getting impatient. This was the absolute last thing she needed today. “Now, turn around and leave my property before I have the sheriff remove you.”

  “You don’t scare me, lady,” he revved the engine again and tapped the gas, making the car jolt slightly. Sonja jumped a foot back.

  The door on the cottage burst open a second later a flood of men came out, including Sonja’s father, Frank’s father, Alex, and Vic. All had stern glares across their brows, indicating they meant business.

  “What’s going on out here?” Franky demanded, standing tall, his broad shoulders showing his pure size and strength. Even though the other men were large in their own right (except for Alex who was a petite man) Frank’s father was a mammoth among them. He was a farmer and had spent years doing hard work.

  “This random guy drove through the open gate and won’t leave.”

  “What is this, a posse?” the man in the car complained as the group approached.

  “Now, son, you better turn around and get out of here before something bad happens,” Franky threatened, the other three men all puffing out their chests behind him. Sonja had to admit, they were an intimidating bunch.

  “This is a public road, dang it. Let me through.”

  “This is no such thing, bub. This is my daughter’s private property,” Sam shouted.

  “I’m just trying to find my girlfriend, Tabatha Rondo,” he demanded.

  “Tabatha?” Sonja butted in. She wasn’t aware the young woman had any boyfriends. Why wouldn’t she have mentioned it when Sonja invited her to dinner? Why not spend Thanksgiving with her boyfriend, or at least ask if he could come along, too?

  She had a feeling that maybe the young man was stretching the truth a little.

  “Yeah, I’m her boyfriend, Kyle Purdue. She ran off, drivin’ up this direction earlier today.”

  “How would you know that?” Sonja pressed, crossing her arms. There was definitely something fishy about this guy.

  “I’ve been keeping an eye on her. So, what?”

  “Why are you just coming through now, then?”

  “My car was runnin’ low on gas and I had to head back to town for it. What is this? Stop asking me stupid questions.”

  “Well, your girlfriend isn’t here. Now, get lost,” Franky ordered him.

  “I need to see her. Don’t you understand?”

  “You don’t need to see anyone, kid.”

  “Look, her father’s in town and is out lookin’ for her. I just spotted him at the gas station. I need to see her.”

  “Her father is in town?” Sonja gasped.

  “Dang straight. Now let me through.”

  “I’m sorry to disappoint you, but she never showed up here,” Sonja said, telling a lie. She didn’t want to cause undo unrest until Frank could do a little more investigating, especially if Tabatha’s father was really in town.

  Things just weren’t making sense.

  On top of that, Sonja knew Frank would want to interview the boyfriend. There was no reason to give him a heads up about that.

  “You heard the lady. Your girlfriend isn’t here. Now get lost.”

  “Just let me drive on through,” he argued.

  “What don’t you understand about the phrase ‘this is private property’?”

  “Let me through.”

  Balling his hand into a fist, Franky slammed it down on the hood.

  “You dented my car! I’m going to sue your pants off,” he threatened as he put his car in reverse and backed away. “You’ll be hearing from me.” Hitting the gas, he sped off back down the mountain.

  Sighing, Sonja shook her head. “Thanks, guys. Frank is going to want to hear about this one.”

  CHAPTER 10

  * * *

  “You probably shouldn’t have done that,” Sonja told Franky once they were safely inside the cottage.

  “I know, I know. I lost my temper a little. However, when we all overheard him talking back to you, and even threatening to run you over, I just sort of popped,” he admitted.

  “Well, don’t tell Frank you punched the car.”

  “Got it.”

  “What gets me is the fact that he claimed Tabatha came through here.”

  “Who is this Tabatha?” Franky pressed.

  “She’s a regular at the diner,” Vic added, having helped fulfill orders for the young woman.

  “I invited her to come to dinner tonight.”

  “Then it’s possible he was right?”

  None of them knew the identity of the victim. Sonja sighed.

  “Wait, is she the body you found?” Franky asked, aghast, finally figuring it out.

  She nodded. “Did any of you see another car parked anywhere on the estate? It would be Tabatha’s. I haven’t looked.”

  They all shook their heads together.

  “I better check, and I better find Frank. There are a few things I have to tell him.”

  Zipping her coat back up, she headed out the rear door and walked toward all the emergency vehicles. One of the deputies stood near the glass double doors of the patio looking out at the garden.

  “Greg, is Frank around?”

  “He’s inside, Sonja, but I can’t let you go in there.”

  “I know. Can you tell him I need to see him right away? It’s important and might be pertinent to the case.”

  “You got it,” Greg replied, stepping inside.

  Moments later, the deputy emerged with Frank in tow. “Sonja? You think you have something?”

  “A few somethings. Follow me.”

  “Okay, let’s make this quick. I’ve got a crime scene to take care of. Not exactly my cup of tea on a holiday like today.”

  “Don’t worry. This will be worth your time,” she told him as she led the way to the front corner of the estate. “Look at this,” she pointed toward the footprints as they walked along.

  “Footprints?”

  “From someone who snuck onto the estate,” she affirmed her point as they neared the entry location.

  “They appear to be men’s shoes, but I couldn’t say for certain since they’ve partially been covered already with more snow.”

  “Then how about these?” Sonja asked, stopping at the edge of the fence and pointing at the two deep boot prints.

  Frank crouched down, looking at the deep indentations, at the top of the fence, and then back at the prints again. “It certainly looks like someone jumped, doesn’t it?”

  “My point exactly.”

  “And they appear to be men’s size tens.”

  “So, it wasn’t Gram who committed the murder, then?” she asked, still clearly skeptical that there were any other real suspects.

  “I can’t say for sure, Sonj’. There is a lot more I have to do before I can even begin to make any assumptions.”

  “What about Tabatha? Did Gram say he let her onto the estate?”

  Frank pursed his lips, worry crossing his brow. “No more questions for now, Sonj’.”

  That was a good an answer as any, Sonja decided.

  “I’ll have to do a little more digging into all of this. For now, I want you and everyone else to remain in the cottage until further notice.”

  “I also thought you might want to k
now that a man named Kyle Purdue, claiming to be her boyfriend, tried to barge in here along with the emergency vehicles.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Just a few minutes ago?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Darn. I’ll need to talk to him.”

  “So, it could be him?” she offered.

  “I can’t say anything for sure, Sonja. You know that. The next thing I’ll need to do is contact Tabatha’s family.”

  “Well, your life may be easier in that regard. I heard a rumor that Tabatha Rondo’s father showed up in town to see her.”

  The pained half-smile on Frank’s face, indicating his slight irritation about his girlfriend already being so involved in this case, although being happy for the tidbits of help at the same time. “Thanks for the info, Sonj’. I’ll take it from here.”

  “Understood,” she agreed, not wanting to cause trouble or stress for him more than was necessary.

  It was still Thanksgiving after all.

  She headed off toward the cottage and watched as Frank disappeared around the back of the manor. She wanted to follow Frank’s orders, but just had to check out one more thing before cozying up in the cottage with everyone else.

  Once he was out of sight, she stepped back out from under the front awning. She still wanted to check for Tabatha’s car.

  Everyone else had parked near the cottage, but Tabatha, being unfamiliar with the estate, would have probably parked in front of the manor house instead. More than likely, it was parked somewhere along the circle drive behind one of the hedges. That would explain why no one had seen it yet.

  Walking that direction, Sonja eyeballed the circular rows of thick and snow covered blue spruce trees that outlined the circle driveway.

  A chilly breeze cut down along the lane and chilled Sonja, despite her heavy jacket. A familiar tingle down her neck made her keenly aware of what she was about to find before she even saw it.

  Coming just around the bend of the drive, she saw the front bumper of a car parked there.

  It had to be Tabatha’s.

  If she had gone inside the manor house, it had been through the front door.

  CHAPTER 11

  * * *

  “I know it, Ally. Frank went in through the front door of the manor. What I don’t it get is why. That door is always locked. Even if Gram answered the door, he would have directed her to the cottage instead,” Sonja whispered to her best friend as they sat side by side that dining room table.

  The group of family and friends, now temporary prisoners of the cottage home, had gathered around the table to play some Trivia Masters. They all decided to at least try and find some semblance of enjoyment during the rest of the holiday. After all, there was a honey ham in the oven along with several other dishes that were in the process of being prepared for dinner. With any luck, Frank would find an hour of time to sit down and still have a Thanksgiving feast with them.

  Even with the overshadowing tragedy of such a morbid murder, and the constant reminder presented by the police lights flashing outside the window near the manor’s back patio, the warm company of loved ones created a cozy atmosphere.

  A purple, blue, and black circular board sat at the center of the table with four pawns on it marking each team’s progress in the competition. A long box of trivia cards sat to one side with a single die that randomly determined what category each team got on a given turn.

  A display of pita chips and veggies sat near a large almond-raspberry-cinnamon cheese ball. They all munched on the appetizer while they played.

  Of course, as the curse of curiosity hung over Sonja, she couldn’t help but talk about the murder.

  “Maybe Gram did kill her,” Alison gasped quietly.

  “I still don’t believe it. I’m betting she got lost trying to figure out where the party was, maybe tried the back door.”

  “But wouldn’t she ring the doorbell?”

  “Maybe she did, but Gram was so busy in the kitchen. Maybe he was a little slow answering. She wandered off and walked in the back door. Gram could have easily left it open so he could carry food and decorations back and forth, you know?”

  “But only Gram was in the manor, right?”

  “Yes, he was, but maybe the killer saw her walking to the back door and followed. Whoever did it could have killed her in the kitchen and hid her body in the oven while Gram was still upstairs trying to answer the door.”

  Ally was shaking her head, almost as if in slow motion, at the horror of it all.

  “Hey, hey. No whispering over there,” Sam teased the girls from across the table, shaking a finger in a shaming motion.

  “Hey, yeah. You two aren’t even on the same team,” Alex argued.

  “Sorry,” Sonja apologized.

  “I hope you girls aren’t talking about the horrible murder,” Sonja’s mother scolded from where she sat next to Sam, her hand holding his.

  “We weren’t,” Alison lied.

  “We agreed no more talk of murder for the rest of the day.”

  “What if Frank needs to question us?” Ally retorted playfully. At least the banter was helping to keep everyone’s spirits up.

  Everyone except for Gram, that was. The butler sat on an antique chair in the far corner with his hands folded neatly in front of him. He wasn’t on a team and had no desire to play.

  Sonja was sure that he was having the hardest time of the situation. He was the only real suspect on the sheriff’s docket, at least until Frank could speak with Kyle and Tabatha’s father.

  “Well, if Frank feels it is necessary to ask questions on Thanksgiving Day of all days, then so be it,” Sonja’s mother complained, being her usual untactful self.

  “Hey, the murderer seemed to think it was necessary to commit homicide on Thanksgiving Day. I’d say Frank has no choice,” Hannah, Frank’s mother, returned somewhat defensively. It was clear she adamantly admired her son as well as the work he did.

  A grumble from the corner drew Sonja’s attention away from the groups bantering. Gram stood up from the chair and walked out of the room and up the stairs. She watched as he crossed the balcony overlooking the table and disappeared down the hallway.

  “Excuse me,” Sonja whispered, standing up herself and following the butler.

  “Well, now we’re stuck waiting for her to get back,” her mother muttered. Diane had never been very good at dealing with stressful situations, and it showed.

  “My team is capable of playing without me,” Sonja called as she reached the balcony. “Go on ahead. I’ll be back shortly.” With that, she headed into the guest bedroom where she found Gram sitting on the floor in front of the radiator.

  It was an odd sight, seeing him sit on the ground in such a manner.

  “Oh, Ms. Sonja. Forgive me,” he apologized, going to stand up.

  “Don’t worry about it. You can stay there on the floor.”

  “It isn’t proper for a lady’s butler to sit on the floor.”

  “It’s okay if the lady says it is,” she retorted, waving at him to settle back down.

  Without his usual series of protests about manners, he obeyed.

  “Are you okay?” she asked, taking a seat next to him. The old radiator hissed and popped as warmth came from it. Sonja could see why the butler was sitting there. It was very comfortable.

  “I am quite all right, Ms. Sonja,” he replied, clearly lying. His eyebrows always twitched in a funny way when he was trying to keep something hidden.

  “Look, I think this is probably harder for you than anyone else here. I understand that.”

  “I don’t understand what you mean,” he continued his charade.

  Sonja tilted her head and looked at him sideways. “Come on, Gram. You don’t always have to put up a front. You have to talk to someone when things are hard.”

  “I’m fine the way I am.”

  Sonja sighed heavily, putting her hands on her knees. “I’m really sorry all of this had to happen, and I’m sorry that
you’re the only person Frank is looking at.”

  Gram looked at her and gave a half-smile. “Well, you know what you American’s like to say. ‘It’s always the butler’.”

  Sonja gasped, along with a little squeak of a laugh. “Gram. My goodness. Was that a joke?”

  “I am not completely devoid of humor, ma’am.”

  Her smiled spread from ear to ear. “I think I enjoy this side of you, Gram. It should come out more often.”

  “Well, it seems your family and companions use humor to help the situation. Why shouldn’t I?”

  “Good point.”

  “I apologize for running off as I did. I guess you are correct. I was getting a wee bit overwhelmed hearing them all discuss murder and such.”

  “They can be a handful, especially my mother.”

  “I suppose I can see that,” he said, not necessarily agreeing or disagreeing.

  Sonja turned closer toward him and placed a hand on his.

  The butler’s eyes widened in surprise and a little discomfort. He wasn’t used to being touched, especially not by someone he was supposed to be serving under.

  “Look, Gram, I know this situation sucks. I agree, it totally does. However, I promise you that I’m going to do everything in my power to prove that you didn’t commit this murder.”

  His lips tightened and Sonja wondered if he might even shed a tear. Instead, he only returned with a firm nod. “I thank you for that, Ms. Sonja.”

  “I already found evidence that someone may have snuck onto the grounds of the estate. Footprints in the snow.”

  The butler’s eyes widened. “You did?”

  “Did you let Tabatha in?” Sonja pressed, wanting to hear the answer for herself.

  The butler hesitated but then answered. “I did. She arrived just a little after ten. Seeing as others were arriving early, I saw no problem with letting her inside.”

  “I completely agree. Did you speak with her at all through the intercom?”

  “No, I didn’t speak to any of the guests. I simply pressed the buzzer to allow them entrance, knowing that they were all here to have dinner with you.”