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

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Sinister Strawberry Waffle: Book 3 in The Diner of the Dead Series Page 10

by Carolyn Q. Hunter


  “What calls, Sheriff?” Sonja teased. “After a murder case like this one you should have it easy.”

  “Let’s hope so.” He placed a twenty on the table in front of her. “By the way. Call me, Frank.” He smiled shyly, his eyes warm, and walked out.

  Sonja pocketed the twenty and picked up the dirty plate to carry back to the kitchen. As she did she noticed Alison peeking out through the service window, a ridiculous smile plastered on her face.

  Sonja stuck her tongue out at her friend and giggled.

  * * *

  Later that night Sonja was alone in the diner again, making the last rounds before she closed up shop. She’d spent the rest of the day skirting around conversations with Ally about Sheriff Thompson. For the most part, she had been successful, assuming Alison was giving her a break for the time being, but she knew she couldn’t avoid the conversation forever.

  Walking to the front door she set the deadbolt, tired and ready to head for home. Turning away she heard the deadbolt click back open. She paused, turned back to look at the door, and then looked around the room.

  “Daniella?” she called out.

  The diner owner thought she’d be done with Daniella’s ghost by now. Didn’t ghosts cross over or something once they had completed their “unfinished business?” The deadbolt relocked.

  “Thank you,” Sonja called out.

  It was scary how nonchalant she was getting about this whole ghost thing. The lights in the diner began to dim and flicker.

  “Hey.”

  The alarms and warning signals on the equipment in the kitchen began to go off, beeping wildly—utensils, plates, pots, and pans all began to shiver in their cupboards—and flames leapt up from the stove. Sonja let out a shriek as a lightbulb nearby exploded. The smell of something burning filled the air and smoke billowed out of the kitchen.

  “What do you want?” Sonja shouted.

  Suddenly, everything stopped: the beeping, the rattling, the flickering lights, the burnt smell. It was all gone as if none of it had ever happened. The only reminder of the haunting was a shattered bulb. She hurried out the back door and locked it behind her.

  It seemed that Daniella, or whatever was haunting the diner, wasn’t done with Sonja yet…

 

 

 


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