Creepy Christmas Waffle: Book 7 in the Diner of the Dead Series

by Carolyn Q. Hunter

  “That doesn’t explain why you’re up here in the woods, in the dark, trying to scare the living daylights out of me,” she shot back.

  “I thought I saw someone sneaking around behind the house, so I followed you.”

  “Why would I be sneaking around my own house?”

  “I didn’t know it was you. It was too dark,” he confided. “Besides, what if it had been a burglar . . . or a murderer?”

  “Well, it wasn’t,” she snapped, still on edge from the scare, and still feeling embarrassed.

  Benjamin sighed loudly. “I’m sorry. I was just trying to help.”

  Instantly, Sonja felt bad for snapping. She had to admit if she’d seen someone sneaking around she would have followed too. It was in her nature. “I’m sorry, too.”

  “Why were you back here?”

  “I was chasing a cat,” she admitted, leaving out the detail about it being a ghost. “I chased it all the way up here to this cave.” She pointed back toward the rock face. Glancing at the opening, she noticed the cat sitting there again, quietly meowing for attention.

  * * *

  Hobbling into the backdoor of the house and using Benjamin as support, Sonja managed to make it to a chair in the living room.

  “Sonja,” Frank exclaimed upon seeing his girlfriend, “are you okay?”

  “Yeah, fine,” she smiled.

  “She twisted her ankle in the snow,” Benjamin added, not mentioning how it was his presence that scared her into running.

  “What were you doing out there?” Frank asked, raising one eyebrow and glancing at Benjamin for half a second.

  “I was following a cat. Benjamin just happened to see me stumble and came to help.”

  Frank looked the farmhand in the eye, a passive aggressive smile on his face. “Thanks for helping her back into the house.”

  “No problem,” Benjamin responded, shrugging nonchalantly. “It was nothing, really.”

  “How is Dick?” Sonja asked, hoping to divert the conversation away from the passive aggressive battle of masculinity between the two men.

  Frank turned back to his girlfriend and sighed. “He’s still in the bathroom.”

  “I’m worried about him,” she confided. “Maybe he should be going to the hospital?”

  “I don’t think he’d be able to make it to the hospital in this weather,” Sonja’s mother commented, stepping into the conversation. “Maybe he just needs some rest.

  “I hope so.” She had to admit, Richard was acting very out of character. Having known him since she was a little girl, he had always been a genial and quiet gentleman. However, ever since his outburst at the diner, he seemed to be spiraling downhill. Sonja seriously wondered if some serious medical issue may be occurring. It seemed to be the only logical explanation for how he was acting.

  Almost as if on cue, the bathroom door opened and Richard stumbled out. Instantly, Frank was by his side, offering help. “Thanks,” Dick said. “I’m n-not sure what’s come over me.”

  “You’re freezing,” Frank commented. “Are you okay?”

  Sonja stepped forward and looked Richard in the eye. His face was a sickeningly pale color, his eyes appeared to be almost sunken into his skull, and he looked as if he might keel over. Sonja grabbed his hand. Frank was right, he felt half-frozen. “You need to lay down. We have a spare bed upstairs.”

  “O-okay,” he muttered.

  Glancing down, Sonja noticed something strange about the weary man’s fingernails. They were discolored, an almost yellowish-orange tint. She instantly felt sick to her stomach, remembering an article she once read that said a yellowing or discoloration of the fingernails or eyes could indicate serious liver failure.

  “What’s wrong with your nails?”

  Richard shakily stared at the odd color of his fingernails.

  “Do you have any history of liver problems?” Sonja pressed.

  “I-I’m fine, Sonja,” Dick replied with a half-smile. “Really.”

  “Are you sure?” She asked, moving him toward the stairway with Frank’s help.

  “Yes, don’t worry about my nails. My little granddaughter likes to paint them sometimes.” He smiled. “The last polish she used was bright orange. The cheap kind. Stained my nails.”

  “Oh,” Sonja sighed in relief.

  “My liver isn’t failing. I just need some rest,” he admitted through a slightly delirious stare.

  “Alright, let’s get you upstairs,” Frank ordered, pushing up the first step.

  “Hey, Diane,” a voice echoed from the other side of the room. Glancing over as they reached the top of the steps, Sonja spotted one of the party guests approaching her mother. “I just wanted to let you know there seems to be a draft in the bathroom.”

  “A draft?”

  “Yeah, it’s really cold in there. Like being inside a freezer box.”

  * * *

  Sonja was beginning to wonder if there wasn’t something supernatural going on. Between the mysterious stone, the ghost cat in the cave, Richard’s strange behavior, and the surprising cold in the bathroom, she was struggling to figure out what sort of sinister malevolent force might be playing around her—yet again.

  She had a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach, a feeling that made her suspicious that, more than ever before, something dark was converging on the small community of Haunted Falls.

  These thoughts and others tumbled through her mind while the party moved onto the final house on the block.

  Leaning on Frank for support as they walked, Sonja was the first one to reach the front door.

  “It’s open,” Mrs. McLaney, the owner of the house, shouted from the end of the drive. “Go ahead and go inside.”

  “Thanks,” Frank shouted, turning the knob and opening the door.

  Stepping inside, the couple was instantly greeted by the warmth of a glowing fire. That and the illuminated Christmas lights hung upon the tree were the only light in the room. Because of the dim mood lighting, Sonja almost didn’t realize what she was looking at.

  A strange shadowy figure seemed to be hunched over the table as if examining something there.

  Then she realized what it was. Gasping, Sonja had an instant flashback to the horrible vision from that morning—the vision brought on by touching the strange stone. Reaching over, Sonja hit the light switch, brightening the rest of the room.

  “Oh, my gosh,” Frank gasped. Leaning over the table, face down in the punch bowl, was a man dressed as Santa Claus. Sonja instantly knew it was Sam Hinkley, who had left only minutes before to get ready to greet the children at the party as old Saint Nick.

  “What is it? What’s going on?” Mrs. McLaney stepped into the doorway, glanced across the room at her refreshment table, and screamed.

  CHAPTER 10

  * * *

  Stepping directly into official sheriff mode, Frank gathered up all the guests and sent them back to Sonja’s mother’s house, instructing them to wait there until given further instructions. Luckily, Diane had managed to keep all the rest of the guests outside when the body was found.

  Within a few minutes of finding the body, the two deputies (who were both already at the party) were on the case and the official investigation began.

  Watching the confused guests stumble back through the roaring storm to the house, Sonja was furious. Killing someone was horrible enough as it was, but to do it during Christmas celebrations, to a man dressed as Santa, was just unforgivable. Not to mention that Sam was a dear friend of the family.

  Everyone gathered up around the fire or Christmas tree while Sonja and her mother handed out coffee and hot chocolate to anyone who wanted it. The shock of a murder at Christmas was just too much for some of them.

  Sheriff Thompson stepped into the Reed home twenty minutes later, having passed off the final steps of a preliminary crime scene investigation to one of the deputies, and announced he was going to begin questioning everyone present at the party.

  “I apologize,” F
rank commented. “I know that this isn’t how any of us would want to spend our evening, but I’m going to need to speak with each of you before you leave tonight.”

  Only a few party members muttered protests in reply, but most agreed to the situation. Everyone present were friends with Sam and wanted the killer found.

  “Diane, is there a private room I can use?”

  “Yes. Use my library, Frank,” She pointed toward the door at the end of the hallway. “I also wanted to say, I don’t think it’s wise for anyone to head home tonight,” she offered. “The storm has only gotten worse.”

  “And it’s only supposed to get worse from here on out,” Sonja added.

  “Right then,” Frank agreed. “Do we have enough places for people to sleep here?”

  Diane nodded.

  “Anyone can stay at my place too,” Danny added.

  “Very good,” Sheriff Thompson confirmed. “Let’s get started.”

  Frank interviewed Alison and her husband first, so their little daughter Cynthia could get into bed at a reasonable hour. Diane quickly moved into mother-mode and was helping people get comfortable and find places to sleep. Frank went from person to person, interviewing each party guest about what they saw and heard that evening.

  Finally, he ended with Sonja.

  When she got into the library and took a seat, it was nearly midnight. It seemed odd to think that it was almost Christmas Eve, what with the dead body just in the next house over. The snow storm was too heavy for the coroner to get up the road that night, so the body and crime scene would remain intact until morning.

  She also felt odd being interviewed in the small back room Diane called a library. The walls were lined with shelves, each one filled with years’ worth of romance novels. Before it had been converted into a library, the room had been a study for her father. However, when two years had gone by after he had left, Diane had concluded that he wouldn’t be coming back, so she moved all her books from the attic into the study, giving away anything that Sonja’s father had left behind.

  In normal procedure, Frank started in with his usual array of questions, the same ones he had most likely asked each other guest that night.

  When he’d finished with the interview questions, he slumped his shoulders and sighed. “Well, Sonj’, what do you think?”

  Shrugging, she reached across and grabbed Frank’s hand. “I’m not sure yet, but I’m sure going to try my best to help in any way I can. Sam was a friend of my parents. We’ve known him a long time. I have no intention of letting the murderer get away.”

  Looking up at his girlfriend, Frank gave a half smile. “I thought you might say something like that.”

  “Do you not want me to do anything?” she asked. During other murder cases, he had insisted that she not get involved. However, recently, he had been more inclined to ask for her opinion and observations during investigations, even if he insisted she steer clear of police procedure.

  “On record? Of course, I don’t want you involved at all. This is police business.” He paused a moment and looked his girlfriend in the eye.

  “But?” she pressed.

  “But if you have any more specific information or observations about what you saw this evening, anything else at all that might help in this investigation, I’m open to hear it.”

  Sonja nodded. On many cases, she had been the one to eventually figure out who the murderer was and help Frank bring them to justice, and it wasn’t always because she wanted to be involved. Many times, the presence of an insistent ghost forced her into an investigation. Now, she was used to being a part-time sleuth—even if her boyfriend wouldn’t, and couldn’t, involve her in the investigative process.

  “I’d say the murderer would have to be one of the party guests.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “Well, with the snow storm it only seems logical. We all had the most opportunity for it, and if it was one of the party guests, it’d have to be someone who was noticeably gone between the time Sam left to go get into costume and when we showed up at the McLaney house.”

  “I see,” Frank nodded, obviously willing to hear more. “Did you notice anyone who was gone during those moment?”

  Sonja sighed, wracking her memory of the night. “Well, if I remember correctly, the only people who weren’t inside the house during the time when the murder could have been committed were Sam’s nephew Dillion, Benjamin,” she paused a minute, realizing what she was about to say, “and me.”

  Frank’s lip twitched nervously, revealing that he was clearly uncomfortable with the idea of suspecting his own girlfriend. “So, you’re saying you don’t have an alibi for that time?” he asked through a strained voice.

  “Well, Benjamin and I were together.”

  Her boyfriend raised one eyebrow at her, slightly breaking the sheriff act for a moment. “Why exactly were you two out there, again?”

  “I told you. I thought I saw a cat, didn’t want it to freeze to death, so I followed.”

  “And Benjamin was with you that entire time?”

  Sonja pursed her lips before quietly answering. “No. Not exactly.”

  “Go over for me, again, what happened out there.”

  Sonja shifted nervously in her seat. She felt a bit on the spot, despite not having done anything wrong herself. She was already telling a half-truth by not talking about the cat being a ghost. She couldn’t believe that Benjamin was the murderer, but had to admit that she didn’t run into him until right as she was about to head back to the house.

  “Well, I followed the cat up the hill toward the cliff. When I realized, I couldn’t find the cat, I turned to head back and slipped. Benjamin just happened to see me fall and ran over to help me.”

  “So, he was only there at the very last moments as you came back to the house?”

  Sonja nodded.

  Frank shook his head. “Which means neither of you have a solid alibi for the time leading up to when he helped you inside.”

  “I guess you’re right. I just don’t want to think it was him.”

  The sheriff shrugged. “Neither do I, Sonj’, but we have to consider all the facts of the case.” He said it as if he were hinting at something, something Sonja should already know.

  Sonja’s jaw suddenly dropped open as she realized the dire nature of the situation. “Benjamin inherits everything.”

  Frank nodded slightly, almost unconsciously. “I’m afraid so.”

  “The will was just changed recently,” she gasped. “You said so yourself you were there. Which means Ben had motive and opportunity.”

  The sheriff tilted his head to one side, as if this was all old—if somewhat unfortunate—news to him.

  “What about Dillion?” Sonja leaped in, trying to throw suspicion in a different direction. She had to admit, despite being in a relationship with Frank—and loving it—she couldn’t help but still care a little about her old crush.

  “Dillion didn’t stand to inherit anything,” the sheriff noted.

  “I know that, but he was sort of a hot head. We know he had a temper.”

  “That’s true.”

  “Mr. Hinkley admitted that he thought his nephew was trying to squeeze him for money. Maybe when he put his foot down and refused to give Dillion any money or any inheritance, he snapped and decided to kill his uncle?”

  “Perhaps,” Frank nodded. “But before we can jump to any conclusions, we have to have more evidence.”

  “I suppose.”

  “Also, you’re forgetting the fact that the murderer could have been someone else entirely.”

  Leaning back in the chair, Sonja folded her arms. “I think it was someone from the party.”

  “There’s no way to know that for sure.”

  “Well, this street block is fairly set apart from the rest of the town. We’re up the side of the mountain here, backed up against the woods. Factor in the lack of light or street lamps out this direction and the heavy storm we’re having t
onight,” she nodded toward the window, indicating the snow piling up and the wind howling, “I think it is less likely someone made the trek all the way up here. Heck, we could barely make it from house to house without getting blown away or frozen to the bone.”

  “Sam’s nephew left, didn’t he?”

  “Perhaps,” she nodded. “That was early enough that the strongest portion of the storm hadn’t hit us yet. But even when Dick tried to leave, the storm was too strong and my mother forced him to stay the night here.”

  “That’s true, but it doesn’t mean someone didn’t try to get up here.”

  “If they did, they’d have to seek shelter in one of these four houses. I don’t see how else they could survive the cold and make it back down the road.”

  Frank’s face went slightly pale. “That means the killer could be hiding in one of these houses.”

  Sonja nodded, suddenly realizing the dire situation before them. “Or in my guest house,” she whispered.

  Frank was instantly on his feet. “I’m getting the deputies.” He grabbed his coat off the chair. “We’re doing a full search of all the houses, right now. If someone else did manage to make it up here and is hiding out, I’m going to find him.”

  “I’m coming with you.” Sonja stood up.

  “No you’re not,” he ordered.

  “We can cover more ground with four of us. We can split into twos, that way no one is left alone searching.”

  “No,” he put his foot down, “I want you to go down to your house. Stay there until the deputies and I figure this thing out.”

  CHAPTER 11

  * * *

  Walking across in the almost blinding snow, the Sonja eventually reached the front door of the small guest house where she lived. Frank tagged along, having started the deputies in Danny’s house, insisting that he’d personally search Sonja’s house first—since it was empty during the whole party and presented the easiest place for someone to hide.

  Fumbling with her key, Sonja eventually got the door open and the two stepped inside.