“H-he’s dead,” she moaned. “He’s really dead.” Anna suddenly broke down into uncontrollable sobs. “Danny is dead, he’s really dead,” she wailed.
Sonja paused, trying to make sense of what the woman had just said. “Danny? Who’s Danny?”
“D-Dobb,” the woman muttered, collapsing against the van in mourning.
“Come on. Let’s get you inside,” she instructed, pulling the woman up and guiding her toward the front door of the building.
* * *
Once Anna Blake was safely inside her apartment, Sonja finally headed home for the evening. Things had gotten a little crazier than she had planned on. After all, who plans on saving their friend from a possessed leprechaun statue or helping the intoxicated wife of a recent murder victim back to their apartment?
Sonja had to laugh a little to herself. Her life was anything but normal, and she was finally coming to terms with the fact that it never would be normal.
She was just glad to have her father, who had spent his life dealing with similar occurrences, living close by again. Pulling her van up the circle driveway outside her parents’ house, Sonja parked and stepped out.
While she technically lived on her own in the guest house out back, she needed to see if her father was awake and ask him some questions.
Just before heading up the front steps to the door, she paused. She felt compelled to check the back of the van one more time, just to make sure the leprechaun was securely locked inside for good, at least until morning when she could return it. She was sure it would be, but if it had escaped . . . the idea of that evil creature coming into her window at night made her want to double and triple check.
She even second guessed her decision to lock it in the van and wondered why she didn’t just leave it locked up in the diner overnight.
But Alison was opening the next morning, and Sonja didn’t want her friend to find the statue there when she arrived. Not after what happened that night.
Opening the back of the van, Sonja gasped. The cage door was open and the statue was gone.
CHAPTER 13
* * *
She had come into the house in a bit of a tizzy, and upon finding her dad on the couch watching TV, unloaded on him with a barrage of questions.
“Dad,” she butted in, ignoring the old black and white show about a witch who was also a housewife playing on the flat screen. “Do possessed statues exist?”
Sonja’s father shifted in his seat, a mug of ginger chamomile tea in his hand. “Well, good evening to you too, Sonja,” he greeted her.
“I’m serious, Dad.”
“Well, your mother went to bed about twenty minutes ago,” he continued, ignoring his daughter’s minor meltdown. “But I’m happy to stay up and chat with you.”
“Dad,” she snapped. “Listen to me. I think that the leprechaun statue I borrowed from Panelope may be cursed or possessed or something.”
“Okay, okay,” he responded, laughing quietly and setting his mug on the coffee table. “Let’s just calm down a little. It’s clear you’re a little agitated.”
“Agitated? You wouldn’t believe the day I’ve had,” she proclaimed.
“Sweetie,” he shrugged, “I understand. But I can’t help unless you slow down a little.”
Taking a deep breath, just like she had instructed Alison to do earlier, she let it back out with a whoosh. “Okay,” she noted, feeling much calmer.
“Okay,” he echoed back. “Start at the beginning,” he instructed.
“The beginning?”
Leaning back on the couch, he patted the cushion beside him. “Start with when you borrowed the statue from Pan.”
Sighing, Sonja flopped down on the couch next to her father. “Alright,” she agreed. “I borrowed the statue on Monday morning. I was at The Lucky Leprechaun buying dried clover for my most recent recipe.”
“Hold on,” her father stopped her, a look of concern crossing his brow. “You’ve got a new waffle recipe at the diner and you haven’t let me try it yet?”
Sonja titled her head, giving her father a look of irritation. “Dad.”
“What?” he teased. “I just want to be a part of my daughter’s creative endeavors.”
“What’s the point of having a father with a lifetime’s worth of supernatural experiences if he isn’t even going to listen to me when I need help?”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He put up his hands defensively. “You’re right. The statue,” he returned to the topic at hand.
“Anyway, I noticed this adorable statue sitting near the checkout counter, and Pan offered to let me borrow it as a decoration for the diner. I gladly accepted, thinking it would be a nice addition for Saint Patrick’s Day.”
“Makes sense,” her father nodded, picking up his mug and taking another sip. “Your mother really makes a good cup of tea. Coffee, too.”
“Can you be serious?”
He nodded. “I am, Sonja. But you have to understand, after so many years of dealing with this stuff, you learn to approach it in a more relaxed, and sometimes humorous way. I’m not saying that you shouldn’t take these things seriously, you definitely should, but in this line of business, if you can’t find some happiness and humor in it all,” he shrugged, “you’ll just fall apart.”
Sonja shifted a little uneasily on the couch cushion. She knew he was right. While she had gotten more calm about dealing with murders, ghosts, and other supernatural beings, she still found herself frequently flying into a craze when she didn’t know what to do.
“Do you understand?”
Taking another series of breaths to calm herself, she nodded.
“Now, go ahead,” he instructed.
“I brought the statue to the diner and set him up.”
“On Monday?”
“Yes.”
“But you didn’t start having trouble until today?”
“That’s right.”
He stroked his chin. “I wonder why that is.”
“This morning, I ran out of dried clover for the waffles, so I made an emergency trip over to The Lucky Leprechaun to get more. That’s when I almost hit something.”
“Hit something?”
“Yes. I’m not sure what it was.”
“You didn’t get a good look?”
Sonja shook her head. “I thought, at first, that it was the statue somehow come to life. However, word has been going around town that a little person is in Haunted Falls and asking questions about Dobb Blake.”
“Now, wait, wait,” her father interrupted. “You’ve got me confused. Who is Dobb Blake and what does he have to do with all of this?”
She looked her father in the eye. “He’s the most recent murder victim.”
He leaned back, folding his arms. “I see. This is a little more serious than I expected.”
“I told you,” she shot back.
“Let me guess, you found the body?”
“You got it.”
“So, who is this Dobb Blake? Anyone you know?”
Sonja shook her head. “Nope. He and his wife are new to Haunted Falls. He took over for Clyde, as the new milkman. Alison told me a rumor that Dobb might have been involved with the mob, but that’s just gossip.”
“Even gossip has its merit,” her father noted. “Does Dobb somehow connect with the statue in some way?”
Sonja leaned in. “Not that I know of yet, but it’s possible. The man who everyone says is going around town? Well, he was asking Pan some things since the Blake’s moved in next door.”
At this comment, her father’s face scrunched up in concern. “You said that the murder victim might have been with the mob?”
She nodded. “I didn’t believe it at first, but yes, and someone or something is asking questions.”
“I see,” he replied, clearly lost in his own train of thought.
“But you know what I think?” Sonja eagerly continued. “I’m not really sure about this yet, but I think that maybe the possess
ed statue and the mysterious man asking questions might be the same person?”
Breaking from his own concentration, he shook his head. “Probably not.”
Sonja’s eyes squeezed together in frustration. “Why not?”
“Consider this,” he added, “If Panelope owns the statue, and the statue was the same person as the man asking questions, wouldn’t she recognize him when he came into the shop?”
Sonja slumped her shoulders, realizing her own little theory was far-fetched. “I guess you’re right.”
“And how would the statue get out of your diner unseen?”
Sonja folded her arms and slouched into the fluffy couch. “So much for my theory.”
“I’m not discounting it as a possibility, yet.” He shook his finger. “It’s just a stretch, is all.”
“But you are saying that possessed statues like this actually exist?” Sonja asked, returning to her original question from when she walked in the door.
“Absolutely, they exist.”
“Oh, wow,” she gasped. She had believed it was the most probable answer to the strange events of the evening, but hearing her father confirm it sent shivers through her body.
“Most possessed statues are vessels to hold evil spirits at bay. However, if a spirit gains enough power it can actually take control of its new form.”
Sonja’s jaw dropped. “That’s not good.”
“As scary as that may be, I’m more concerned about your man who is going around asking questions.”
This shocked Sonja. “What do you mean?”
“During the four years I was traveling, while I was away from you and your mother—”
“I try not to think about it,” she admitted, pursing her lips. She hadn’t been too fond of those years when her father mysteriously vanished into thin air.
“I encountered many scary things both magical and mortal during that time.”
“Such as?” Sonja asked, not seeing where her father was going with this.
“Such as organized crime. The mob.”
“You encountered the mob?”
“Not personally, of course, but I do know some things. While we should still be worried about the possessed statue, I think we should be much more worried about this man asking questions.”
All of this had been pretty confusing, but Sonja was beginning to piece things together. “You mean, you believe that man is actually working for the mob?”
“Like I said, small town gossip can be a good tool for investigations like this. If Dobb, or whoever he truly is, was with the mob, it’s possible that they’ve sent a hitman after him.”
“The little man?”
“Right. When I was in Chicago, the police were trying to crack down on organized crime. There was one hitman that was rumored to be extra dangerous and deadly. The newspapers called him The Little Terror.”
Sonja couldn’t help but openly cringe at the tacky sound of that name.
“As far as I knew, the police never caught him, but after I left Chicago I didn’t really keep up with the story.”
Sonja gasped. “Ally told me that Dobb maybe stole some money from a crime boss or something like that.”
Her father snapped his fingers. “That’s it, then. If the gossip is true, then it’s possible that The Little Terror came into town to kill Dobb Blake and get the money back.”
A sudden light bulb turned on in Sonja’s head. “Hey, if we can find that money, then we might have proof that Dobb was involved with the mob and that the murder was probably done by a hitman.”
“Exactly.”
“But where would he hide a lot of stolen money?” Sonja wondered.
CHAPTER 14
* * *
After telling her father that the statue was currently missing—something which seemed fairly important—Sonja went down to the guest house to get ready for the night. She had been nervous about going to sleep knowing that an evil spirit in the form of a leprechaun might be on the loose, but her father taught her a method for keeping evil spirits out.
So, as she got ready for bed that night, she lined each windowsill and doorway with salt. She had seen this method used in movies to keep out witches, but she had never thought it was something she could actually use to protect herself.
After slipping into a purple tank top and black sleep shorts, she brewed a cup of tea and sat down in front of her computer.
She usually used this time of night to work on writing her novel—a dream that seemed more and more distant every day—but tonight she hopped on the internet to look up old news stories about organized crime in Chicago.
If this Little Terror was as dangerous as her father said he was, she needed to learn as much about him as possible.
Upon hitting the GO button in her search engine, the first thing to pop up was an article proclaiming: The Little Terror Finally Caught. Her jaw dropped with surprise as she read on. It turned out that The Little Terror, also known as Andy Wholesome, had been apprehended during his final job.
It turned out he was hunting down a woman named Aria Benson and her husband Daniel. Fortunately, Aria hadn’t been home when the hitman had arrived. Someone had anonymously tipped off the police that he was going to be there.
This had ultimately led to Andy Wholesome’s arrest.
The police were still in search of Aria and Daniel Benson.
Continuing her reading, Sonja was shocked to find another article linked from the first one. The title of the second was The Little Terror Murdered Before Trial.
All of this only made Dobb Blake’s murder case all the more confusing. If Andy Wholesome was dead, then how could he possibly be here to murder Dobb? Things just weren’t adding up, at least not until Sonja read the next part of the article.
Andy had managed to post bail—which was set at one hundred thousand dollars—most likely thanks to his connections with the crime syndicate. Unfortunately, his freedom hadn’t lasted long. Someone had found him and murdered him.
Turned out the murder weapon was a dagger supposedly dating back to the thirteenth century.
Sonja had seen similar weapons before, and they were almost always used for some sort of dark occult ritual.
Sonja slowly pieced things together. While she herself didn’t know what kind of rituals or supernatural powers went into trapping someone inside a statue, this whole story seemed to point in one clear direction.
The spirit of Andy The Little Terror Wholesome was trapped inside the leprechaun statue, and it seemed to Sonja that he was gaining enough willpower to come out of his static form and attack people.
He had to be the murderer.
A sudden rustle from the yard outside drew her attention. Her heart began to race—images of murderous leprechauns in the trees—as she stepped toward the window.
It mostly seemed dark outside, and quiet.
But then a familiar flash of green went in between the trees. Sonja knew it had to be the leprechaun.
CHAPTER 15
* * *
Standing up from her desk, Sonja quickly grabbed a hoodie and flashlight and headed out the door. She knew leaving the protection of her house—with the salt along the windows and doors—wasn’t necessarily the smartest idea, but if she had any chance of getting to the bottom of this mystery she needed to act now.
Whether the flash of green was the possessed statue, the ghost of the hitman, or both, she was compelled to follow, no matter how much it scared her.
Stepping out into the chilly evening air, she kept the flashlight temporarily off. She didn’t want to be seen, especially if this person really was a murderer.
Walking in the direction she originally saw the flash of green, she headed deep into the woods, keeping her eyes peeled for any sign of movement.
The night was cold and the jacket she had picked up hardly kept out the cold. The chill on the air only added to the butterflies in her stomach. She’d dealt with ghosts and murderers, but something about this particular case gave he
r the willies. She didn’t like the idea of inanimate objects being able to come to life and hurt her, and she had no idea how to defend herself against something like that.
After about ten minutes of walking, and having to regain her bearings to figure out where she was, she thought she had lost the leprechaun for good. However, just as she was about to turn on her flashlight and head back to her house, she spotted something moving among the trees.
Her skin prickled, more from anxiety than the cold.
Despite the darkness of the night, the moon was just bright enough that she could make out the greenish hue of the short figure’s clothes. Her heart began to race in her chest as she moved closer to him, close enough to make out the details of his seemingly well-tailored suit.
Could this really be the statue from the diner, the same one that had attacked Alison, or was it just a man? He didn’t appear to have the same top hat as the statue did, but that hardly ruled out the possibility that this was a supernatural entity—or even a leprechaun.
Without prior knowledge of this type of paranormal creature or ghost, Sonja had no way of knowing for sure. It was possible that once the statue came out of its static form, that it had some limited control over its appearance—which would explain why Panelope might not recognize him.
Unfortunately, it was hard to tell without getting too close, and she wanted to make sure to keep her distance, so as not to be caught.
He seemed to be tracking back and forth across the forest floor, weaving in between the trees, as if he were looking for something. Luckily, now that she had spotted him, the moonlight made it easy to follow along.
After what seemed like ages of walking, the man stopped cold.
Squinting, Sonja could just make out what appeared to be a clearing where he stood. The light from the evening sky filtered down upon the man through the opening in the trees, illuminating his features as he turned his head.
Letting out a quiet gasp, Sonja ducked behind a tree. The short man had a thick head of reddish hair, as well as an evenly trimmed beard—just like the statue. His suit, however, had a more modern and fashionable appearance.
Eerie Irish Waffle (The Diner of the Dead Series Book 10) Page 5