Eerie Irish Waffle (The Diner of the Dead Series Book 10)

by Carolyn Q. Hunter

  Glancing about the clearing, the leprechaun’s dark eyes shimmered in the darkness like two hollow black crystals catching the light. It was an unnerving sight.

  Quietly, carefully, the amateur sleuth shuffled closer, trying to remain close to the trees.

  The little man hunched down, bending to rest on one knee, as he examined something on the ground. Using his hands, he began to brush the dirt aside.

  What’s he doing? Sonja wondered to herself, moving another few feet closer to try and get a better look.

  Leaning all the way down until he was almost completely prostrate with the earth, the man lifted something up from the dirt.

  Shuffling a few steps further, Sonja strained to make out the bulky looking shape the leprechaun had picked up. What is it? she thought. It almost looked like he was holding up the rotting carcass of a small road killed animal.

  A sudden shiver ran through her entire body as the crack of a twig suddenly came from behind her. Before she could turn around and see who it was standing behind her, a cold dry hand found its way onto her shoulder.

  Without thinking, Sonja let out a surprised and high pitched screech.

  The leprechaun turned his head toward her, his eyes widening in shock. Dropping the lumpy object, he darted off into the trees, disappearing into the night.

  CHAPTER 16

  * * *

  “D-Dad,” Sonja exclaimed, turning to find her father standing directly behind her. “What are you doing out here?”

  “I should be asking you the same thing,” he shot back, pulling his long wool sweater tighter around his body. “I’ve been following you for almost half an hour.”

  “You followed me?” she blurted out.

  “Of course,” he demanded. “Right after I tell you to stay inside, to protect your doors and windows, I find you wandering through the woods.”

  “Well, you shouldn’t have followed me,” she argued. “You’ve ruined everything.”

  “Excuse me? What exactly did I ruin?”

  Sighing, Sonja rolled her eyes at her father just like she used to in high school. “I followed the leprechaun.”

  “The statue?” he shouted. “Are you nuts? We have no idea what kind of strength or power that thing has.”

  “I’m well aware of that,” Sonja defended herself, “but it’s my responsibility to face these things down.”

  “No, no, it’s not,” he snapped. “On top of that, you don’t know for sure it was the statue. You might very well have been following a trained hitman.”

  Sonja shook her head. “He’s dead,” she informed him. “After you went to bed, I did a little research on the internet.”

  “About The Little Terror?”

  Sonja nodded. “He was caught while he was attempting to kill a couple named Aria and Daniel Benson.”

  “That doesn’t mean he isn’t here,” her father pointed out. “Maybe he pulled some strings, bribed some people, and got an early parole.”

  Sonja shook her head. “No, he didn’t.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Positive. He posted bail, but was murdered just before the trail.”

  He sighed with relief. “Well, that’s at least one worry off our plates.”

  Sonja shuffled her feet, wondering if she should tell her dad her latest theory.

  Tilting his head in curiosity, he could tell there was something on his daughter’s mind. “What is it?”

  “Well, you know how you said that statues are often vessels for evil spirits?”

  “Yes, they are. Which is why I don’t want you trying to hunt this thing down on your own.”

  “Well,” she nervously twisted her hands. “The Little Terror was murdered with a medieval knife.”

  “What?” her father exclaimed, his eyes growing large again.

  “I think that our possessed statue is our hitman.”

  “Are you kidding?” he groaned, turning and putting his head in his hand. “That makes things even worse.”

  “I’m well aware.”

  “I can’t believe you knew that and still followed him out here.” Gripping his daughter's hand, he began to guide her back toward home. “It’s too dangerous out here. We have to get back to the house.”

  “No,” Sonja argued, pulling away from her father. “We can’t go back yet.”

  “This isn’t a discussion,” he ordered, his tone similar to when Sonja had been a little girl.

  “I have to see what the leprechaun was looking at.”

  Glancing over her shoulder, he raised an eyebrow. “Whatever it is can wait until morning. This is too dangerous.”

  Sonja didn’t respond, turning to walk toward the clearing.

  “Get back here, Sonja.”

  Ignoring him, she trotted toward the opening in the trees, dreading what might be laying there. She prayed she had been wrong and that it wasn’t a dead animal. Upon stepping into the moonlight, she stopped. Below her feet was a massive patch of clover. This just seemed too weird to be a coincidence.

  Then she spotted something even stranger.

  “Sonja,” her father interjected. “Let’s go home.”

  “Dad, look,” she commented, pointing at the center of the clearing.

  “What?” He stepped forward into the moonlight.

  In the middle of the clover was a deep square hole, freshly dug. In it laid a dirty backpack, not a dead animal, and it appeared to be empty.

  “What was buried here?” her father wondered out loud.

  “I think I have a pretty good idea.”

  CHAPTER 17

  * * *

  “I need you to meet me in the woods, near where I found the body,” Sonja said into her cell phone the next morning. “It’s important.”

  “Sonja,” Frank scolded his girlfriend, “Please tell me this doesn’t have something to do with the murder.”

  “I’m not sure yet,” she admitted, “but I have a strong feeling it does.”

  “What did I tell you about investigating alone?”

  “I’m sorry, but I just sort of stumbled upon it,” she said, telling a half truth.

  “Sonja, I don’t want you following any leads without calling me first.”

  “I’m calling you now, aren’t I?”

  Frank sighed heavily.

  “I’m serious,” Sonja insisted. “This could be big, and I don’t want anything to be disturbed before you have a chance to look at it.”

  “Okay, okay. You win,” he gave in, “but I can’t meet you until a little later. I have an appointment in ten minutes with the coroner to discuss the results of the autopsy.”

  “Fine,” she agreed, “but call me as soon as you’re done with it. This could be really important.”

  “And if it isn’t,” he shot back, “If it ends up having no relation to the murder case, do you promise to just let me handle it?”

  Sonja chewed on her bottom lip.

  “Promise me,” he insisted.

  “I promise,” she confirmed, crossing her fingers.

  * * *

  Unfortunately, the statue hadn’t magically reappeared in the back of Sonja’s van overnight, something that sincerely worried her. It simply meant that he was out there, a trained murderer, stalking the streets of Haunted Falls.

  However, despite not having the statue in her possession, Sonja still felt compelled to pay Panelope a visit. Since she had to wait on Frank to be done with the coroner anyway, she didn’t see any point in just waiting around.

  She needed clearer answers about what she was dealing with, and she needed them now.

  Sonja left without waking her father and hoped he wouldn’t try and follow her again. While she appreciated his expertise on the supernatural, she preferred to do most of her investigative work alone.

  Pulling up in front of The Lucky Leprechaun, Sonja parked the van and got out. Just like the previous day, the shop was technically closed, but this was important—even more important than picking up dried clover.


  Approaching the old building, Sonja glanced toward the upstairs window just in time to see the curtain flutter shut.

  Had someone been watching?

  Shrugging, Sonja walked up to the shop door and knocked. Waiting for a moment, there was no answer. Going to knock again, Sonja was surprised to see the door crack open, the bell inside chiming in merrily.

  “Sonja, dear,” the woman inside greeted her, opening the door wide. “How are you?” Panelope was a rare beauty of a woman, despite her age of sixty-six. Her long white hair, reaching past her waist, swayed ever so slightly in the morning breeze. The skin of her face—unmarred by any kind of makeup or cover up—had a warm ivory tone, accented with elegant lines of wisdom and experience. She wore a long green spring style dress made from a thin, flowing material and decorated with an elaborate tapestry of Celtic designs.

  “Good morning, Panelope,” Sonja nodded. “I was wondering if I could come in for a minute.”

  “Certainly, dear. I’ve already set out the tea and scones for you.” Stepping aside to let the young woman through, Pan motioned toward the stairs.

  “I hope I didn’t come at a bad time.”

  “Nonsense,” Pan waved a hand as if dispelling an unfavorable plume of smoke. “I was expecting you.” Moving around the counter, she began up the stairs.

  “You were?” Sonja asked.

  “Of course,” she replied, pausing just long enough to turn and offer a smile. “After all, it was in the cards.” She continued up the stairs.

  Sonja quickly followed until they reached the sitting area of the apartment.

  “Have a seat,” Pan spoke in a hushed tone.

  “T-Thank you.” Taking a seat in one of the chairs, Sonja noticed a full tea set on the coffee table, as well as a little plate of varied types of scones. The flavors appeared to be orange, strawberry, and blueberry.

  “Help yourself,” the older woman motioned with both hands politely, taking a seat across from Sonja. “We’ll need to speak quietly. Cass is still asleep.”

  “Oh, I see,” Sonja agreed, glancing toward the closed maroon curtains which she assumed were Cassiopeia’s room.

  “I understand you two talked yesterday.”

  Sonja nodded. “We did. She seems like such a nice girl.” Reaching down, she took a napkin and one of the blueberry scones.

  “Don’t forget the tea, dear,” she nodded, pouring a full cup and pushing it toward the young woman.

  “Thanks.”

  “It’s true,” Panelope commented, setting the teapot down. “Cass is really a wonderful girl, but she certainly needs a lot of help and direction right now.”

  “Is she going to be living here with you from now on?”

  Pan nodded. “Indefinitely, I’m afraid.” Leaning forward, she clasped her hands.

  “That’s horrible,” Sonja managed to say after swallowing a bite of her scone. “What happened?”

  “Cancer, I’m sorry to say. Very out of the blue. Her father was diagnosed about six months ago.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  Pan smiled. “You don’t need to be. These things happen sometimes. The blessing here is that Cass and her father got to spend his last few months together, traveling, making memories, saying goodbye.” She nodded. “They were both very brave.”

  “And her mother?”

  “Died giving birth to Cass.”

  “I see.”

  “Overall, she is doing fairly well for a child who has lost her father. On the other hand, she needs a lot of support and help.”

  “If there is anything I can do, let me know.”

  “Well,” Panelope smiled, her eyes beaming, “you may already have. It does seem you two were destined to meet.”

  Sonja shrugged. “Why do you say that?”

  “It was told to me in the cards.”

  Sonja shifted nervously. “Y-You keep mentioning the cards.”

  The older woman nodded toward the kitchen table. On it was a set of cards lined out in a circular formation.

  “Tarot cards?”

  “That’s right. They told me that Cassiopeia would have someone come and offer support. Then you showed up yesterday morning while I was out. Today, the cards said you’d be coming over again.”

  Sonja leaned back in her chair, eating the last bit of scone. She had dealt with séances, spirit boards, ritualistic knives, spiritual stones, and more. She should have known that it was only a matter of time before tarot cards came into the mix.

  However, she hadn’t known that Pan was into all of this occult stuff until just recently.

  “You’re the first person Cass has really seemed to energetically connect with here in Haunted Falls. I hope you two will have a good relationship.”

  Sonja nodded. “I’m willing to help in any way I can.”

  “I thought you would,” she added, grabbing a strawberry scone for herself. Taking a bite of one of the corners, she chewed for a minute and swallowed. Finally, she looked Sonja directly in the eye. “But you didn’t come here to talk about Cassiopeia, now did you?”

  The amateur sleuth blinked in surprise. “You’re right. I didn’t.”

  “I thought so,” she nodded. “I know what you want. You want to talk about the statue.”

  CHAPTER 18

  * * *

  “Many antiques in my shop, especially the statues, have their own spirit,” Panelope explained after hearing Sonja’s story.

  The supernaturally sensitive woman had been hesitant to share her experiences about the statue with Pan but realized that anyone who was into reading Tarot cards might just believe her.

  “Some of the items are open vessels, waiting for a new spirit to fill them.”

  “So, you’re saying that you truly believe that these things have spirits and that they have the power to come to life?”

  “Not all of them, of course, but yes. Many of the spirits, if they have enough spiritual energy, can get to the point where they have control over the vessels.”

  “Wow,” she mouthed, sitting back in her chair.

  “Oh, don’t act so surprised, dear. Someone with your abilities should be more open minded to all sorts of supernatural forms.”

  Sonja’s jaw dropped. “How do you know about that?”

  “Your spiritual energy comes off you like fire, off your father as well.”

  “You can sense that?”

  She nodded. “While I may not be able to see ghosts such as you do, I have a few tricks up my sleeve.”

  “Like reading the future?” Sonja nodded toward the table and the tarot cards.

  “Well, nothing quite so special as that. I simply ask the spirits for assistance on occasion in seeing things, and on occasion, they answer. Sometimes through the cards, sometimes through a spirit board, and sometimes by reading a palm.” She pointed at her own hand. “My only real power is being able to read other people’s auras.”

  “Auras?”

  Leaning forward, she grabbed Sonja’s hand. “Each person and animal on this planet has a specific energy they always have surrounding them, running through them. I just happen to see that energy in the form of colors.”

  “Amazing.”

  She shook her head. “It isn’t all that dramatic, dear. I don’t have real power. Not like you,” she paused as her eyes wandered to the curtain Cass was sleeping behind. She dropped her voice to an almost inaudible level. “Not like Cass.”

  “Cass?” Sonja whispered in reply.

  Pan nodded. “You two are spiritually connected.”

  “B-but what about the statues?” Sonja asked, changing the subject. “How do you know about those?”

  Panelope shrugged. “When there is a spirit present in an object, I can see it’s aura. Simple as that.”

  “I see. So, what spirit inhabits the statue you loaned me?” Sonja begged, desperate to know if her theory was right.

  “That I can’t tell you.”

  “Why not?”

  “I simply don’t kn
ow,” Pan admitted. “When you left with the statue it was an empty vessel.”

  Sonja felt herself wilt a little inside, frustrated about not having a clearer answer.

  “The spirit must have come and inhabited it while it was at your diner.”

  “That doesn’t help me much,” Sonja admitted. “Hey, what about the short man who came and was asking questions. Was he maybe one of your statues come to life.”

  “Heavens, no,” Pan exclaimed. “That was just a normal man, pure and simple.”

  Sonja groaned inwardly. That was not the answer she wanted to hear. More than that, it drew her farther and farther away from a feasible answer to all this craziness.

  “But I would be wary of him, as well of the statue.” Pan’s face grew grim. “The cards have shown me death on multiple readings this week.”

  “Death?”

  Pan nodded. “That, accompanied by the trickster. I believe we have a very dangerous murderer amongst us. I believe it may be that man who came and spoke to me,” she paused a moment, “or maybe even the spirit that has inhabited the statue.”

  CHAPTER 19

  * * *

  Leaving the shop and walking toward the van, Sonja checked her phone. There was still no text or call from Frank. She shrugged, figuring he must still be with the coroner.

  Glancing back toward the building, she got an idea. Sonja decided that she would stop by and see how Anna Blake was doing.

  She noted how it seemed odd that they were living in an empty building that was meant for a store. Maybe the owner was having a hard time filling the space with a shop, or maybe Anna moved in with plans to open a shop?

  Then the rumors about the mob came into her mind again. Maybe living in an odd location made Dobb harder to find?

  Walking up to the building next door to The Lucky Leprechaun, Sonja rang the bell for the apartment upstairs. As she did, she noticed the door was open. The sound of agonized groans and cries echoed down from inside.