Eerie Irish Waffle (The Diner of the Dead Series Book 10)
Page 1
TABLE OF CONTENTS
EERIE IRISH WAFFLE
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
Eerie
Irish
Waffle
Book Ten
in
The Diner of the Dead Series
By
Carolyn Q. Hunter
Copyright 2017 Summer Prescott Books
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**This book is a work of fiction. Any similarities to persons, living or dead, places of business, or situations past or present, is completely unintentional.
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EERIE IRISH
WAFFLE
Book Ten in The Diner of the Dead Series
PROLOGUE
* * *
Despite the cold, late winter morning, and the fact that Dobb Blake could see his own breath escaping into the fresh mountain air, the snow had transformed into a light rain.
“Just my luck,” Dobb muttered quietly to himself, shifting the weight of the heavy backpack he carried. Who knew plain old paper could be so heavy? The straps of the old, ratty black bag dug into his shoulders, giving him a faint reminder of his days as a schoolboy.
At this point in his life, Dobb understood he was anything but a school boy. If he had maintained the same moral structure he had grown up with in his Irish Catholic mother’s house, he wouldn’t be stuck walking out in the middle of the Rocky Mountains, in the forest, in the rain, with a heavy backpack weighing him down.
After dropping out of private Catholic school (his mother’s last-ditch effort to save him from a life of mistakes) he had run off to live his own life and in his own way. Ultimately, he had found himself in a heap more trouble than he cared to admit.
“Just a little further,” he told himself, cursing his most recent decision to move to Haunted Falls. It was cold here all the time, and wet to boot. There hadn’t been a single day since he’d arrived that it hadn’t snowed or rained.
As the sky let out its latest drizzle, a fresh layer of mist rose from the forest floor.
Continually checking behind himself, Dobb couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was following him, watching him.
Pausing, he listened carefully to see if he could hear any sign that someone might be there. He was only greeted with the echo of the forest. He instinctively felt in his jacket pocket. The small pistol was still there.
He didn’t want to have to use it, but wouldn’t hesitate if he needed to.
He couldn’t let anyone know what he was doing.
Finally reaching a small clearing among the tall pine trees, a space he had picked out a few weeks earlier, he stopped.
Examining the flat area with a curious eye, it almost seemed as if he had stepped into a different world. While the rain still came down, the cold had almost completely vanished. Rays of the mid-morning sun penetrated the opening in the trees and illuminated the clearing like fire.
Additionally, the ground seemed to be completely covered in greenery. Kneeling down among the fresh plants, he instantly noticed that it was all one clover patch. The familiar three-leaved sprouts grew close together, a sure sign that this was the right place to hide the backpack. Kneeling in on the ground, he pulled out the gun and placed it beside him, at an easy distance to reach it.
Setting the bag down, Dobb pulled out the small hand trowel he had packed and began to dig into the wet earth.
CHAPTER 1
* * *
The Waffle Diner and Eatery was all abuzz with customers, town residents and tourists alike, all eager to try Sonja Reed’s latest and most delicious waffle recipe.
The dining area echoed with a loud chatter that seemed to create a sense of excited energy in the air. Adding to the atmosphere was all the current decorations for the month. Each table was draped with a green tablecloth, embroidered with four leaf clovers along the edge. Green garland hung from the ceiling along with paper cutouts of clovers, leprechauns, mugs of ale, and pots of gold.
The centerpiece of the decorations was a life-size statue of a leprechaun in a smart looking dark green suit and a top hat. He leaned against a large pot of gold near the front door of the diner, and he held a long wooden pipe with his teeth.
Unlike most leprechaun decorations Sonja had seen, which often came off as tacky or disrespectful, this one looked almost real. He looked almost lifelike, his toothy grin giving him an overall sense of presence. She had borrowed the item from a local shop—a hot spot for tourists—called The Lucky Leprechaun. An older woman, and a friend of her mother’s, named Panelope owned the shop.
Pan had been more than happy to let Sonja use the leprechaun in the diner.
Sonja had always thought the spelling of her name was a little odd and different, but so was Panelope. Everyone close to her called her Pan for short.
After Valentine’s Day had finally come to a close, Sonja had assumed she was done with holiday decorating, and special holiday waffle dishes. However, when she realized that Saint Patrick’s Day was coming up next—and because she was at least twenty-five percent Irish—she couldn’t resist jumping in to celebrate another holiday at the diner.
Soon, she would have a new set of decorations for every month of the year.
Since its grand re-opening, the little establishment had really picked up speed. More and more people from the surrounding areas heard tale of the diner, a place where only the most divine waffles were served on a daily basis.
While this small amount of local fame was exciting, it was also a little overwhelming for the diner owner. The
more customers and business she got, the more scatterbrained she seemed to become. Today was no exception.
Sonja was in the kitchen, quickly working to fill orders for customers. She always tried to keep the menu fresh and interesting, and this month was no exception. She’d come up with two new waffles to celebrate Saint Patrick’s Day.
The first waffle was a special desert style dish—but that hardly kept people from ordering it for breakfast. She called it, the Pot O’ Gold Waffle. It was a mint and chocolate waffle that was perfect for the season.
She prepared the usual waffle batter she was famous for and mixed in a few drops of wintergreen, as well as some actual mint leaf. She then added a drop of yellow food coloring and a sprinkling of yellow sugar crystals. Whipping the mix with a whisk, she waited until it turned a beautiful frothy gold. She inhaled deeply, taking the briefest second to enjoy the scent of mint in the air.
Seeing the batter was ready, she poured a helping into the heated waffle iron, listening as it sizzled, and shut it closed. The smell of a fresh waffle never got old.
While it cooked, she pulled out one of the small black cauldrons she’d bought just for this dish. While they had been a little pricey to get enough of them, she thought they really made the dish more beautiful. Also, she figured when Halloween rolled around, she could come up with another waffle dish using the cauldron again—so it hardly seemed wasteful.
Carefully, she scooped out a few spoonfuls of chocolate mint ice-cream and layered the bottom of the pot, spreading it so it was even.
Getting every part of this dish timed just right was vital to making it perfect. Opening the warmer, she pulled out the hot fudge and drizzled it over the top. The waffle iron dinged right on the mark, and Sonja pulled the waffle out. Carefully she laid the waffle over the mint ice cream and chocolate. She then sprinkled the top of the waffle with yellow colored sugar to make it shimmer like gold. The last step was placing a few chocolate gold coins, still in the foil, around the top.
She smiled at the creation again, loving how it really looked like a leprechaun’s pot of gold.
“Pot O’ Gold Waffle,” she shouted, ringing the bell.
“Thanks, Sonja,” the waitress said. “I have an order for another Four Leaf Clover Waffle.”
“Coming up,” Sonja responded. Even more popular than her first waffle for the month, was the Four Leaf Clover Waffle. It was a dish that had actual clover leaves in it, and was surprisingly delectable. She had crowds of people asking to try it every morning.
Reaching for the container of dried clover, she stopped cold. Looking inside she audibly gasped. She was completely out of the key ingredient for her most popular waffle.
CHAPTER 2
* * *
Sonja was frantic. So many people had been in over the last two days to try the new waffle, far more than she had expected, that she had breezed through the supply of clover in no time.
Now she had a whole new set of hungry diner patrons all waiting to try her latest creation, and she was completely out of the key ingredient.
“What am I going to do?” She moaned, feeling the panic rising in her chest.
“What’s wrong?” Alison, Sonja’s best friend, and business partner asked as she stepped out of the office where she had been doing paperwork most of the morning.
“I’m all out of dried clover.”
“Uh, oh. What time does Panelope’s shop open?” Alison asked, putting on her cooking apron.
“Not until ten,” she informed her friend. Pan’s Irish themed shop was the only place that carried the dried clover she needed for her recipe.
“This probably isn’t a good time to tell you,” Ally added, heaping on the stress, “but we’re basically out of milk as well.”
Tilting her head back, Sonja looked like she might fall over. “You’re kidding me.”
Alison shook her head. “The milkman didn’t come by this morning.”
“Ugh,” Sonja muttered. “I knew signing up for that milk delivery program would come back to bite us in the butt.”
Signing up for weekly milk delivery had been Alison’s idea. Previously, Sonja had just bought all the milk they needed for the diner at the local grocery store. Ally had argued that getting the milk delivered would cut one of the many stresses out of running a small business.
While a little hesitant at the time, Sonja had agreed to give it a try, and it had been great for a while. Every week, on the dot, they received all the milk they needed. Now, the business owner was having her doubts.
“It wasn’t a mistake to sign up,” Alison commented. “There is a new milkman who took over our route, so maybe he’s still getting used to the job.”
“What happened to Clyde?”
“Retired,” Ally said matter-of-factly. “He’s been running the milk route for the last twenty years.”
“So, we’re stuck with a new guy who has no idea what he’s doing?” Sonja complained, eyeing the ever growing crowd out in the front of the diner.
“He’s a nice guy, Sonj’. His name is Dobb and he seems very capable.”
“Dobb?” She inquired, thinking the name sounded odd.
“I think it's Irish.”
“How fitting,” she noted sarcastically.
“Anyway, I’m sure he’s just running a little behind today,” she comforted her friend. “In fact, his wife came in earlier this morning looking for him.”
“His wife?”
“Anna Blake. She said that he had forgotten his lunch and this was his first stop this morning. She just hoped he might still be here so she could catch him.”
“She brought his lunch?”
“She did,” Ally beamed. “She really seems like quite the homemaker. We talked for a bit and she mentioned how they were renting the upstairs apartment next to The Lucky Leprechaun. She told me all the ways she was trying to make it feel like home for them.”
“That’s lovely, but it doesn’t help us with our current problem.” Sonja said a little dryly, wanting to get back to the problem at hand.
“Come on, Sonj’. I’m sure Dobb just got his route confused and will be here with our milk in no time.”
Sighing, she slumped her shoulders. “I hope you’re right, Ally, but that hardly solves our clover shortage.”
“Here,” her friend responded, stepping up beside her at the counter. “I’ll take over your spot here in the kitchen while you run and see if Panelope will open early for you.”
“What makes you think she’ll do that?” Sonja cocked one eyebrow.
“Doesn’t hurt to go check, now does it?”
“I suppose not,” she commented, untying her apron and hanging it on the hook beside the door. “But if I don’t have any luck, we’ll just have to tell everyone we can’t serve anymore clover waffles until further notice.”
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”
* * *
Stepping out into the cold blustery day, she wrapped her leather jacket around her body and headed for the diner’s catering van. The winter snows had been turning into rain more and more over the past few weeks, and it created a constant mist across the mountain.
If she wasn’t so preoccupied with getting the clover, Sonja would have usually stopped to take in the mountain’s majestic beauty.
Climbing into the vehicle, the first thing she did was crank up the heater. The chill in the air was just a little too much for her. She was already stressed out, the last thing she needed was to be cold, too.
Pulling out of the lot, she drove towards the historic downtown district. All the shops and buildings there had been built back in the forties and fifties (some of them even older than that). It was one of the most popular areas in town.
While Haunted Falls didn’t have the same draw for tourists as some of the other, larger mountain towns and cities, they still got their fair share. Sonja was glad for it, too, since it meant more patrons at the diner.
Turning onto Main Street, she scanned the road
for any open parking spots. Looking back and forth, she almost didn’t see the small green figure go bolting in front of her vehicle.
Letting out a shocked gasp, she slammed on the brakes, bringing the van to a sudden, jolting halt.
Blinking the surprise from her eyes, she looked for what it was that had passed in front of her so suddenly. The flash of green caught her eye again, heading out of the street and slipping in between the buildings on the other side.
For a moment, Sonja tried to talk herself out of believing what she had just seen. If she didn’t know any better, she would have sworn it was the same green suit wearing, pipe smoking leprechaun statue from the diner.
CHAPTER 3
* * *
Sonja was used to seeing unexplainable things. In fact, experiencing the strange and supernatural was almost a daily occurrence. Both she and her father had the ability to see, talk to, and interact with ghosts.
She had spent almost the entire last year of her life learning more about her own abilities and communicating with various spirits of the deceased, and by this point, the idea of spooks hardly frightened her at all.
In many ways, the idea that mystical creatures such as leprechauns might exist—or old, dusty antique statues that could come to life--wasn’t that far-fetched.
However, not wanting to jump to any wild assumptions, Sonja simply concluded that the green streak of a person must either be a child dressed up for the coming holiday, or a very short man. Deciding it was nothing to worry over, she pushed the minor incident from her mind and focused on the trouble at hand.
Parking the van and getting out, she walked toward The Lucky Leprechaun.
The storefront was fashioned out of old wood carvings depicting Irish lore and symbology. A sign with a picture of a leprechaun hung by two chains above the door. A large glass display window showed off an array of antiques and decorations, all supposedly imported from Ireland. One in particular, with a long sorrowful looking face, caused Sonja to shiver.