“Do you think the bone has anything to do with the murder?”
Sheriff Thompson raised an eyebrow. “Sonja, I appreciate your concern, but I’ll handle this.”
“Do you think it’s related though?” she pressed
“Most likely not. This whole area is scattered with animal bones.”
“Animal bones?”
“There are quite a few bones from hunters and small predators all over this area. Just walking through the woods, you’re almost guaranteed to find some animal bones.”
“But are you positive that it’s an animal bone?” Sonja persisted.
“It’s quite likely,” he replied, tossing it on the ground.
“Can’t you have the coroner check it out to at least see if it’s . . . human?”
Sheriff Thompson glanced up at Sonja. “Human?”
She crossed her arms stubbornly and nodded.
“Sonja, if I had every found bone checked out, we’d be chasing dead ends until next Christmas.”
“Please,” she pleaded softly. “Just have this one looked at.”
The Sheriff shook his head. “All right,” he conceded, picking up the bone and handing it to his deputy. “Bag this.”
“Thank you,” Sonja smiled faintly.
Alison looked at her best friend again, raising both eyebrows. Sonja rolled her eyes and turned away.
“Now, I want you both to get out of here,” he instructed. “No snooping. Let me and the deputies handle this.”
“When do you think you’ll be ready for my statement?”
“Head over to the station. I’ll meet you there in a little bit.”
She nodded and headed for her car.
“I’ll go with you,” Alison offered.
* * *
“He wouldn’t do that for anyone else,” Ally remarked as they drove away from the diner.
“What are you talking about?” Sonja asked, even though she knew very well what Ally meant.
“Frank. He wouldn’t have that bone checked out if someone else asked.”
Sonja shrugged. “Sure he would. He’d do it for you.”
“No, he wouldn’t,” Alison stated flatly. “I’m telling you. He has a thing for you.”
Sonja slumped down in the driver’s seat, drained. “Sheriff Thompson and I are just friends, Ally. There is nothing even remotely romantic about our relationship.”
“Have you told him that?” her friend asked, cocking an eyebrow.
“No, and I don’t have to. He already knows.”
“Don’t be so sure, Sonja. You two have been spending a lot of time together lately.”
Sonja laughed. “Like it’s my fault I keep stumbling into crime scenes.”
“No, but it is your fault that you poke around afterward,” her friend shot back. “All I’m saying is that it may seem to some like you’re trying to work on those cases simply to be closer to Frank.”
Sonja was about to protest again when her phone rang. Saved by the bell, she thanked the fates as she picked up the phone.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Sonja. It’s Macklin.”
She instantly sat up straight. “Macklin, hi.”
“I heard the news,” he said in a low voice. “I heard . . . I heard that you found him.”
“Yeah, I found him.”
“That’s just awful,” his voice warbled uneasily.
“How are you holding up?” Sonja bit her lip, feeling sorry for the man who had just lost his business partner and friend.
“I’m okay, I guess. Just a little overwhelmed with everything. Since Bill didn’t have any living relatives, I . . . I had to go in and identify the body early this morning.”
“Oh gosh, I’m so sorry.”
“I’m trying to keep up with our customers still, to keep a good face and all, while also dealing with all of the paperwork and arrangements.”
“This must be so hard on you,” she murmured.
He paused, and she wondered if he was trying to keep from breaking down.
“Macklin?”
“It is. It’s been difficult this morning. I’m not sure how I can run this business without him. I mean . . . we were a team, and a darn good one.”
“I know,” she replied, not knowing quite what to say.
“I wanted to talk with you about tonight,” he admitted.
“You want to cancel?” she presumed. “I completely understand.”
“No. No, not at all, I wanted to actually see, with Merrill’s death and everything, if you were still okay with having dinner. Like I said, I’m trying to keep up with all our customers, and I could really use the diversion.”
“Dinner would be lovely,” she agreed. “We’ll both need it after today.”
“Okay great,” he replied, perking up just a bit. “I’ll see you at eight.”
“See you at eight.” She hung up the phone and looked over at Alison who had her mouth hanging wide open.
“You never tell me anything,” Ally accused.
CHAPTER 11
Sitting across from Sheriff Thompson, Sonja answered all of his questions carefully. Her original intent was to leave out all the tidbits about the supernatural truck from the night before, but after the first few questions she just couldn’t see a way to get around it.
“So, wait,” the Sheriff frowned. “You’re telling me that the truck started up and revved the engine all on its own?”
“That’s right,” she nodded, a hint of embarrassment coloring her cheeks.
“And you think it was being controlled by a ghost or something?” the skeptical officer asked, looking into Sonja’s eyes as if trying to ascertain whether or not she was mentally unstable.
She sighed. “I’m just telling you what happened. There was no one in the cab, and the truck and the lights turned on by themselves.”
The Sheriff shook his head. “You must be pretty shaken up,” he mused.
“I’m not,” she insisted. This was exactly what she was afraid was going to happen. Let on a little that you believe in ghosts and everyone looks at you like you need psychiatric help.
“Well, I can tell you right now that it wasn’t a ghost, Sonja. Someone was hiding inside the truck or somehow was controlling the vehicle remotely from another location,” he assured her gravely.
Sonja shrugged. “If you say so.”
“Don’t worry. We’ll examine the truck thoroughly and get to the bottom of this. It sounds to me like someone is trying to scare you.”
The diner owner didn’t doubt that someone was trying to scare her. She just believed “that someone” was no longer among the ranks of the living.
“I think it’s another threat, and it’s gotta be tied to Bill’s murder somehow,” Thompson confided. “I’m going to keep one of my deputies busy making regular safety checks at your house until this is cleared up. After were done here I want you to head straight home and don’t go out unless you absolutely need to.”
Sonja had no intention of just sitting around at home and waiting for the murderer to find her, but she agreed to set the sheriff at ease.
“How do you always end up involved in these cases?” He shook his head after a moment of stroking his iron jaw.
Sonja shrugged. “Just bad luck, I suppose.”
She took a sip of the coffee that Marie had given her on the way in. As usual, it tasted cheap—but the electric buzz it offered her system was a welcome sensation.
“Poor luck is an understatement,” Thompson responded.
“It’s not so bad,” she replied, with an air of resignation. “So far, whoever is doing this is only trying to scare me, not kill me.”
The Sheriff nodded. “I suppose so.”
“Have you found out anything about that bone?” Sonja changed the subject.
“Not yet. I still have to take it over to the coroner for examination. Unfortunately, it isn’t a top priority in this investigation.”
She nodded. “Did you find any other bones a
t the crime scene?”
He shook his head. “Sorry, Sonja.”
Her heart sank. She’d been so certain that they would find more bones. “Well, thanks for looking.”
“Why did you want the bone looked at anyway?”
“I think Merrill’s murder and the bone might be connected.”
“How so?”
“Well, let’s just pretend the bone is human. Then let’s also pretend that the bone belonged to a murder victim.”
“Okaaaay,” he set the pen down and clasped his hands together behind his head, ready to listen.
“The murderer buries the victim next to the diner and hopes that’s the end of it. Then, a few years later, the murderer finds out that I made a contract to redo the landscaping and is worried that we’ll dig up the body.”
“So they threaten both you and Merrill to stay away.”
“Right, but we don’t heed the warning. I tell Merrill to go ahead with the renovation. The murderer finds out and follows him to the diner, watching to see if he finds anything. Merrill finds the bones, and before he can run off and tell the police, the murderer kills him and buries him in the same spot.”
“Why wouldn’t the murderer just bury Merrill deeper, to keep him from being found, like the first body?”
“Well, it was right next to the diner. So maybe, because the culprit knew people were coming and going and might see him, he just made quick work of it, poorly covering the body in a shallow grave and backing the truck into the trees, then hightailing it out of there.”
Sonja leaned back in her chair and drank her coffee, satisfied with the plausibility of her deduction.
“Unfortunately, that’s nothing but speculation,” the sheriff noted.
“But it could have happened that way,” she insisted.
“True, and it could have happened any other number of ways, Sonja.”
She sighed, deflated. “I suppose.”
“In fact, there are actually a few problems that I see in your theory.”
She took a sip of her coffee, and looked at him curiously. “Really, like what?”
“Well, first, we don’t even know if the bone is human. It’s far more likely to be from an animal, and if it is, your whole theory is out the window.”
“And if it is human?” she quirked an eyebrow.
“If it is human, then where is the rest of the skeleton?” the sheriff asked reasonably.
* * *
Just a little before eight p.m., Sonja slipped into her favorite green blouse, the one that matched her eyes, and a black pencil skirt that made the most of her feminine curves. Putting on a few finishing touches to her makeup, she grabbed the car keys and headed out the door.
“Oh, you look beautiful,” her mother gushed as Sonja stepped onto the porch.
She did a quick little exaggerated spin, like a model on the runway, for her mother’s benefit. Excitement in her eyes, her mom bubbled over with affirmation of the pretty, but simple, outfit while Sonja hugged her goodbye.
She arrived at the Firehouse Grill at eight o’clock on the dot. Haunted Falls was well-known for skilled renovations of historic buildings, which were often repurposed. The old church/library was one example and Firehouse Grill was another. As the name suggested, the restaurant had once been a local firehouse. It was a tall structure, constructed entirely out of brick, and even had its own little bell tower at the top. If you didn’t know it was a firehouse you might mistake it for an old school or boarding house.
A set of large red double doors were built into the far right side of the building. The left side of the building, where there had once been garages for firetrucks, was now the dining area. The old red garage doors were outfitted with large windows and turned into permanent walls. Above the front doors was a circular balcony adorned with an ornate wrought iron railing, where special guests were seated during the warm summer months.
Sonja greeted the hostess when she arrived, letting her know that she was there to meet Macklin.
“Right this way, ma’am,” the young woman replied with a professional smile, leading her across the dining area.
The room was casually elegant, with beautiful original red tile composing the floor, and red linen tablecloths gracing each table. The walls were decorated with firefighting equipment, both antique and new, and the richly colored walls were warmly lit by flickering candle sconces.
Macklin stood up to greet Sonja as she approached the table, trailing behind the hostess, who motioned for her to sit.
“Allow me,” Macklin offered, scurrying around the table and pulling out Sonja’s chair for her.
“Thanks,” she replied, not knowing what to make of the attention.
Her date was exhibiting a level of chivalry she wasn’t accustomed to and wasn’t sure she was quite comfortable with, but she decided to go with the flow and see where things went.
Macklin took his seat across from her, placing his black linen napkin back on his lap. “I ordered an appetizer and a bottle of wine for us to share.”
Sonja forced a polite smile. “Great,” she tried to sound enthusiastic.
If she’d had any lingering doubts as to the nature of their dinner, they were summarily erased, this was definitely not a business meeting. In a matter of moments, two waiters appeared, one carrying a bowl of artichoke dip and a platter of fresh baked pita bread and the other carrying an ice bucket with a bottle of wine.
Sonja wasn’t much of a wine drinker, she generally thought that the fermented grape juice tasted far too sour for her enjoyment. Much to the dismay of her mother, Sonja preferred a rich stout beer over a glass of wine any day, but she graciously lifted her glass and sipped from it, trying not to make a face as she did.
“Nice wine, huh?” her date smiled, savoring a sip.
“Not bad,” Sonja lied, taking a quick swallow from her water glass in a vain attempt to get the taste out of her mouth.
“There’s just nothing like a full-bodied red, right?”
She nodded bravely, already having her doubts about how the evening would turn out. Macklin was already trying too hard, even if he truly loved wine, his attempt at sophisticated conversation was a bit over the top. Sonja gave him the benefit of the doubt, acknowledging that he seemed really nervous, like a sixteen year old boy on his first date, which seemed strange for someone who was her age and had the money to spend on things like snooty wine and appetizers.
“Try the dip. It’s delicious,” he suggested, gently dragging a chunk of pita through the bowl, barely grazing the dip.
Sonja took a piece, scooped deeply into the bowl, and popped the ooey gooey slab into her mouth. Again, it wasn’t her favorite, she would have preferred pretzels and beer cheese dip, but she didn’t let her feelings show in front of Macklin, not wanting to seem rude or unappreciative. While she enjoyed fine food as much as the next girl, her preference was for food and drink that was hearty and substantial.
“Good, huh?” Macklin seemed to be looking for approval.
Sonja bit her lip, ignoring the question and opened her menu, perusing the steak and burger sections. The moment passed in awkward silence.
“So, did you find what you were looking for with that beauty pageant?” he asked, trying desperately to make conversation.
Sonja lowered the menu. “Sort of,” she shrugged. “I think that Daniella, the beauty pageant winner, was murdered.”
“Oh, wow.” Macklin leaned in over the table, looking surprised. “Really?”
“And I think that her murder may have something to do with Bill’s murder.”
At this, Macklin really looked shocked, his eyes growing wide. “What would Merrill have to do with a missing pageant queen?”
“Well,” Sonja lowered her voice a bit. “I think he may have found something he wasn’t supposed to find, next to the diner.”
“Like what?”
“Well, the sheriff found a bone at the crime scene that looks like it could be human.”
“
Whoa, that’s crazy.” Macklin leaned back in his chair, blinking in disbelief.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” she whispered, afraid he might begin to cry. “I shouldn’t have said anything. I know it is probably already hard for you having lost your business partner and all.”
Macklin continued to stare at her, ignoring her sentiment. She assumed that he was trying to pull himself together, and could have kicked herself for having brought up the subject.
“So,” Macklin stated, his voice dramatically changing from anxious 16-year-old to professional 29-year-old. “As far as your contract goes…” the landscaper pulled out a manila folder and set it on the table, suddenly all business.
He had apparently decided to completely skirt the awkward conversation. Sonja felt a little sick to her stomach for mentioning his partner’s death. How could she have been so callous?
“I understand completely if, at this point with…” he swallowed hard before continuing. “With Merrill’s death…you want to cancel. I would be willing to waive any cancellation fees, as I mentioned before, as well as get your deposit back to you.”
She set down the menu, feeling terrible. “Oh, Macklin. I have no intention of canceling.”
He looked up from the papers. “You don’t?”
“No. Now, if you want to cancel, I completely understand.”
After all, she knew that she certainly wouldn’t want to work on the landscaping right where one of her closest friends had just been murdered.
“No, no. My apologies,” the landscaper remarked. “I simply assumed that since there was a death on your property you would probably want to just table the project altogether, at least for the time being.”
“I’m very upset about Bill, believe me, but the work still needs to get done. I just assumed that once the investigation is completed, we could proceed with the work as the contract states.”
“Oh,” Macklin blinked, digesting her response. “I see. In that case, we can just discuss reworking the contracted dates as I mentioned before.”
He pulled out a pen and began making notes on the paper. “We’ll need to revise and redo the signatures, of course.”
“I’m alright sticking with the contract we have.”
“Well, I just want to make sure we’re on the same page,” he motioned toward the folder of papers.
Sinister Strawberry Waffle: Book 3 in The Diner of the Dead Series Page 7