Sinister Strawberry Waffle: Book 3 in The Diner of the Dead Series

by Carolyn Q. Hunter

  By the time she was halfway through the book, somewhere around June 2011, Sonja was ready to give up. Deciding that she would only turn one more page and then be done with it, she crossed her fingers, flipping the page to the next day’s paper.

  Disappointment flooded through her when she saw that the front page story was about a local beauty pageant. Sonja tried to close the book and was surprised that she couldn’t get the spine to fold.

  “What’s going on here?” she wondered aloud.

  Trying again, she used all of her strength to try to force the book to close, but it wouldn’t budge. She looked to see if there was a problem with the glue in the binding or something.

  “Fine,” she muttered, flipping to the next day’s paper.

  The page was filled with more news on the beauty pageant. Shaking her head, she flipped another page, finding another entry about the pageant. The winner of the pageant was featured on the cover. For some reason, the young woman’s image looked familiar.

  Sonja sighed with frustration. “What does this have to do with anything?” she grumbled.

  Resigned that she wasn’t going to find anything helpful, she stood up from her chair with every intention of just leaving the binder on the table and walking away. One of the librarians would inevitably come by later and they could struggle to get the book closed and back on the shelf. Standing to go, she froze in place as a tangible chill ran down her spine, and her breath swirled visibly in front of her face, while two icy, unseen hands gripped her shoulders. Sonja gasped at the odd, otherworldly sensation, and her face drained of all color. With a benevolent, but unyielding force, the icy hands gently pushed her back into the seat.

  Sonja hesitated, trembling with fear, and took a tentative glance over her shoulder, seeing no one. A whisper of air brushed past her ear, feeling as though someone had let out a long-held breath, and the book’s pages turned all on their own, fluttering one after the other, until they opened to the headline that she had been looking for…Pageant Queen Gone Missing.

  Sonja quickly skimmed the page. The winner of the beauty pageant had been a girl named Daniella Fitzgerald. The name vaguely rang a bell as she read it. Daniella had been seen heading back to her hotel room the night after the pageant ended, but the next day she was nowhere to be found. All of her belongings remained in the hotel room, but the young woman was missing.

  Sonja turned the page, her instinct screaming that there must be something significant in the story. The next day the search for Daniella continued with no luck. The suggestion had been made that she’d simply run away. As the stories continued, it became obvious that the search was abandoned, and the town’s citizens had no choice but to believe that the pageant queen had disappeared of her own accord, but it didn’t ring true to Sonja.

  The parents of the girl were interviewed and they, oddly, seemed more embarrassed than worried. It just didn’t make sense. Why would a beautiful young girl who had just been crowned state beauty queen simply disappear after her success? There had to be foul play involved – Sonja was certain of it.

  A sudden rush of air gusted though the room, chilling everything in an icy fog. The pages of the book began to flutter, flipping madly back and forth. The book slammed shut, and with a force and dexterity that only the supernatural could muster, the binder flew across the room and slammed neatly back into its spot on the shelf. The fog settled into the cracks of the floorboards and the chill vanished.

  “Everything okay up here?” a voice called.

  Belinda’s head popped up from the stairway. “That old bell ringer isn’t bothering you, is he?”

  “No,” Sonja replied, wide-eyed and breathless. “He’s not bothering me.”

  Somehow she knew that it wasn’t the bell ringer who had been trying to show her something. Daniella’s ghost was doing the haunting, and it appeared that this particular entity had a bone to pick with the people of Haunted Falls. Sonja could only assume that beautiful, young Daniella had been murdered.

  CHAPTER 8

  While driving out of the library parking lot, Sonja’s cell phone rang. Glancing down, she noted that the number on the screen wasn’t listed in her contracts. She pulled off to the side of the road next to an old barber shop to answer the call.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi, Sonja?”

  The voice was deep, a male’s voice. It sounded familiar, but through the electronic filter of the phone she couldn’t quite place it. “May I ask who’s calling?”

  “It’s Macklin Sprouts.”

  “Oh. Hi, Macklin,” she replied, nodding to herself as recognition dawned.

  “Did I catch you at a bad time?”

  “I just drove out of the library parking lot, but I’ve pulled off to the side of the road. So I’m good to talk.”

  “The library, huh?”

  “Yeah, I was just doing a little research,” she confided. Suddenly, like a light illuminating a darkened room, realization struck, and Sonja remembered where she had seen an image from the beauty pageant. “Hey, do you remember a local beauty pageant back in 2011?”

  “Beauty pageant?” he repeated, sounding as though he were mulling it over. “I don’t really recall…”

  “You and Bill were the ones who did all the landscaping and flowers for it, right?”

  Macklin paused a moment. “Oh yeah, that beauty pageant, I remember now. Merrill has the picture of it hanging behind his desk.”

  “Exactly,” Sonja confirmed.

  Excitedly shuffling through her cluttered purse, she dug out a small note pad and a pen—something she bought and carried with her for just such an occasion, so that she’d be ready at a moment’s notice to write down any important notes.

  “Do you remember the girl who won?” she asked.

  Macklin paused, thinking. “Barely. I think her name sounded like a boy’s name or something?”

  “That’s right. Daniella.”

  “There were a whole bunch of contestants, and we didn’t really interact with them. Most of our work was done by the time the pageant was up and running. Why do you ask?”

  “When I was at the library, I read about the beauty pageant. I actually sort of stumbled upon an article by accident. Did you know Daniella disappeared after the pageant?”

  “Now that you mention it, yes. One of the deputies called and asked if I could assist in the search.”

  Sonja tapped the pen against the pad. “Did you?”

  “No, I was sick that day—some sort of flu. Merrill thought I worked myself too hard on the pageant and told me to take the day off. There were lots of folks that they were able to round up to help though.”

  “I see. So you didn’t know her?”

  “No, she wasn’t a local gal. What did you find so interesting about the pageant anyway?”

  Disappointed, Sonja dropped the pen and pad back into her purse. “Nothing, I was just curious. It seemed like an interesting event for the town, that’s all. Sorry for gabbing your ear off about it.”

  “No problem,” he chuckled.

  “So, I’m guessing you had a reason that you called? I went off on my tangent before you could say a word,” she apologized, slightly embarrassed.

  “No worries, it’s always a pleasure to talk with you. I was looking over your contract today…” she could hear him shuffling papers.

  “Uh-huh?”

  “And I wanted to go over a few things with you before we moved forward. Just want to make sure that we are all on the same page here.”

  “Oh okay, but I’ve already gone through all the pricing and details with Bill.”

  “Right,” Macklin responded. “Merrill actually asked me to do a follow up meeting. It’s normal procedure whenever there is any question of discrepancy in a contact.”

  “Discrepancy?”

  “Yes, since our work has been delayed a day, because of the threats posed against both you and our company, our regular scheduling as outlined in the contract may no longer be valid. Mostly, we
just need to discuss pushing our completion date back one or two days.”

  “Alright then,” Sonja agreed. “Do you want me to come by the office right now?”

  “Actually,” he hesitated. “I was hoping we could discuss it over dinner.”

  She paused. Was he asking her on a date? Her thoughts turned to Benjamin and the hope that he would ask her out when he returned. She really wanted to see if things might work out with him romantically. It had been over a year since her last official date, and it had been even longer since someone had actually asked her out. Typically, Sonja had to flirt, hint, suggest, and be utterly obvious before a guy would ask her out. In many ways, Macklin’s sudden proposal was a pleasant surprise.

  “Will that work for you?” he prompted.

  She smiled, sensing the tension in his uneven breathing. Macklin wasn’t really her type, but she decided to take him up on the invitation. He was handsome enough, and Benjamin wouldn’t be back for a few days. If nothing else, this would be a good practice date to get back into the swing of dating.

  “Sure, that’ll work,” she finally responded, not wanting to sound too eager.

  She heard a relieved sigh on the other end. “Great.”

  “What time and where?” her pen was poised over her notepad once again.

  “Will tonight work?”

  “Oh…no, I’m scheduled to work the dinner rush tonight.”

  “Ooookay then,” he hummed to himself, apparently perusing his calendar. “How about tomorrow around eight?”

  Eight seemed a little late for dinner, but Sonja agreed. “That’s doable. Where should I meet you?”

  “How about the Firehouse Grill?”

  “Sounds good.”

  “Great, I’ll bring the paperwork and we can go over a few things. See you then.”

  “Okay, bye,” she replied, feeling more than a bit awkward, and hung up the phone.

  A date. Her first date in over a year. What on earth was she going to tell her mother?

  * * *

  Sonja’s phone rang again, just as she was pulling into her driveway. This time, she recognized Sheriff Thompson’s number on the screen.

  “Hi, Sheriff.”

  “You have my number in your phone?” he asked, a hint of surprise in his voice.

  “Just in case I stumble upon anymore crimes,” she teased.

  The sheriff paused. Sonja could almost see him cocking one eyebrow and giving her what was quickly becoming “the look.”

  “I suppose it’s better than going after clues on your own,” he conceded, sounding like he was trying hard not to laugh.

  “Did you learn anything about the phone call that Bill received?”

  “That’s why I called, actually,” the sheriff replied, sobering.

  “And?”

  “Bill Merrill received one phone call after six p.m. on Sunday night. Turns out the call came from a restaurant.”

  “A restaurant?”

  “Yep. Whoever made the call was clearly thinking ahead. I’m beginning to think this threat may be more serious than we originally thought.”

  Shifting in her seat Sonja noticed her mother peeking out of the curtains at her and sighed inwardly.

  “I’m going to strongly encourage you to take extra precautions whenever you’re alone. Try not to be on your own any more than you absolutely have to, particularly after dark. Park close to buildings and stay in lighted areas, you know the drill,” Thompson cautioned.

  “I understand,” Sonja replied.

  Prior to her move to New York City, her mother had talked her into taking a self-defense and safety class.

  “Is there any way for us to find out who may have made the call?”

  “Unfortunately, no. Businesses don’t keep track of everyone who uses their phone,” the sheriff sighed.

  Pursing her lips while she thought, Sonja tried to figure out an out of the box solution.

  “Could we ask the manager who was working that night if they know of anyone who used the phone around six?” she suggested.

  “It’s a thought, but you shouldn’t get your hopes up.”

  “Did the call originate from a restaurant here in Haunted Falls?” Sonja persisted.

  “Yep, Firehouse Grill.”

  “Interesting,” she mused, lips pursed, eyebrows raised.

  “What?”

  “Just a strange coincidence, I guess.”

  “What’s a strange coincidence?” the sheriff asked suspiciously.

  “Well, Macklin Sprouts invited me to dinner at Firehouse Grill right before you called. Just an odd coincidence, I suppose.”

  There was a long pause on the line and Sonja wondered if the call somehow had gotten disconnected.

  “Sheriff?”

  “Yeah, I’m still here.”

  “Was there something else?”

  He paused again. “No, nothing else. Talk to you later,” he replied quietly, hanging up before she even had a chance to reply.

  Sonja stared at her phone for a moment, wondering why he’d rung off so abruptly.

  * * *

  Sonja could hear her mom in the kitchen shuffling pans around when she came in. Strolling toward the source of the sound, she found her mother standing on a stool putting away pans, or at least pretending to put away pans to cover the fact that she was spying, in a tall cupboard.

  “Oh, hello, dear,” her mother remarked in a nonchalant tone, tucking a stray lock of hair back into her tidy bun. “I was just putting away a few dishes.”

  She made a comically obvious show of shoving a pot into place. Sonja knew quite well that her mother always put away dishes first thing in the morning before breakfast.

  “Who were you on the phone with out there?” her mother inquired, attempting to maintain a light tone to mask her insatiable curiosity.

  By that point, she was literally just rattling pots against one another in the cabinet, making it painfully obvious that she had been at the window watching, probably desperately trying to listen as well, right before Sonja came in the front door.

  “It was Sheriff Thompson,” Sonja admitted, wincing in anticipation of her mom’s reaction.

  “Oh?” her mother squeaked, turning only enough to glance at her daughter out of the corner of one eye, then carefully descending from the wooden footstool upon which she’d been perched.

  “We were just talking business,” she insisted.

  Walking over she faced her daughter, her tone skeptical. “Business…again?”

  “Business,” Sonja stared her mother down.

  “Well then,” her disappointed mother mumbled, walking into the living room, eyes downcast.

  Now she’d done it. Her mother was about to go into one of her fits of melodrama, where she lay around the house all day eating chocolates and ice cream, while watching reruns of old black and white television shows.

  “Mom,” Sonja called, trying to keep the sigh from her voice.

  “Don’t mind me,” she pouted, waving a hand in the air. “I’ll just be in here, on the couch, waiting for a grandchild.”

  Sonja rolled her eyes and counted to ten. Usually, her mother tried to be pretty subtle about these things, but every once in a while the seemingly rational, adult woman would host a personal pity party that would make the most petulant three year old proud. Following the pouting woman into the living room, she plopped down on the couch, determined to talk her down from her tree.

  “Look, Mom…romance isn’t something that you can just rush into. Having a meaningful relationship takes time and effort. I haven’t even had time to date anyone since I came back home. I’m not even close to ready to have a relationship.”

  “How do you know if you won’t at least give the poor man a chance?” her mother challenged, staring at her over the top of her glasses.

  Sighing, Sonja took a seat next to her mother on the couch, putting an arm around her shoulders. It was always odd when this happened, the daughter mothering the parent. It had becom
e more and more the case since Sonja’s father had left.

  “Mom, Sheriff Thompson is just a friend.”

  “A friend,” she grumbled. “All you ever have is friends.”

  “And he has never once pursued me.”

  “Well, sometimes men need a little push,” her mother suggested.

  “Sometimes I get tired of pushing. It isn’t my job.”

  Her mother folded her arms, her lip quivering as she strained against the crocodile tears.

  “I’m sorry, Mom. Sheriff Thompson is easy to talk to, but he isn’t romance material. I’ve never even once called him by his first name.”

  Her mother slumped lower into the couch. “Fine.”

  Sonja knew how lonely her mother was but, she refused to cave in to her expectations so that her mom could live vicariously through her. She had her own life to lead—and, for better or worse, it rarely involved romance.

  “I still don’t see why you can’t give him a chance.”

  “Because I don’t want to, Mom. Plain and simple.”

  Her lower lip puffed out with disappointment, she finally sighed with resignation.

  “I see,” she bravely faked a smile. “You can’t blame a mother for trying, right?”

  Sonja squeezed her mother’s shoulders. “Right,” she agreed, relieved that the conversation was over.

  Her mother clearly could use some cheering up, so Sonja impulsively decided to brighten her day with a glimmer of hope, no matter how small.

  “Well, even though I may not ever be romantically involved with Sheriff Thompson, I’ll have you know that I’m going on a date with someone else tomorrow night,” she gave her mother a teasing look.

  Instantly, her mother’s body language changed. She sat straight up, looked her daughter in the eye, and smiled.

  “You are?” she gushed. “With whom? Out with it young lady!”

  “Macklin Sprouts.”

  “Well, he’s no Sheriff Thompson, but it’s a good start,” her mother nodded speculatively.

  She popped up off the couch, fresh as a daisy, and seemingly floated across the room. Her mother was happier about the date with Macklin than Sonja was.

  “You read too many of those romance novels,” she teased, momentarily distracted when her phone rang again.