The Wayward Waffle: Book 4 in The Diner of the Dead Series

by Carolyn Q. Hunter

  Crossing her fingers, she hit the call button.

  After a brief pause, the phone began to ring. Sonja’s heart pounded in her chest as she waited for an answer.

  Three rings, four rings, five rings, the phone call seemed to drag on forever until finally there was a click. Sonja expected a hello, expected to have to face Samuel directly. Instead, the answering service took over. “Hi, you’ve reached Sam. Leave a message after the beep.”

  Sighing, Sonja thought on the fly about what to say. “Hello, Samuel. I’ve got something that belongs to you,” she said in as ominous a voice as she could muster. “It’s your camera’s SD card I found in the dumpster behind the community center, and I think there may be some pictures on here that you may find interesting. If you want to get it back, I suggest you meet me at the community center today at twelve noon.” Pausing, she added one last thing on the end. “I know what you did. I know who you are . . . Daniel.”

  Hitting the end button, she set down the phone with a nervous sigh. Now she could find out for sure. If Samuel had his SD card still safely in his camera he wouldn’t need to show up at the community center to retrieve the one Sonja had, and it would mean he wasn’t the murderer. If he did show up, then Sonja wasn’t sure what she would do next.

  CHAPTER 16

  Driving up outside the police station, Sonja instantly spotted Frank’s police cruiser sitting out front in its normal spot. He was definitely here, and she couldn’t quite decide what she was more nervous about—meeting him right now to confess all the secret investigating she had been doing or meeting with a potential murderer at twelve.

  She decided she was more nervous about meeting Frank, but only by a small margin. Stepping out of the van, Sonja walked up to the building and stepped inside.

  Marie, the elderly pink-haired receptionist, looked up at Sonja with wide eyes of surprise. “Sonja, hon. What are ya’ doing here?”

  “I need to see Sheriff Thompson,” she replied.

  “Oh,” Marie muttered, a look of shock on her face. She searched Sonja with her eyes, obviously trying to figure something out. Most likely, she had heard about the awkward encounter she and the Sheriff had experienced the day before.

  “Is he in?” she repeated, not willing to prolong this experience any more than she already had to.

  “Sure, hon. Should I tell him you’re coming?”

  “No thanks,” Sonja replied and turned toward the wood paneled door and stepped inside.

  Frank instantly looked up from what he was doing; paperwork mostly, it seemed.

  “Sonja?” he remarked, obviously shocked to see her suddenly barging into his office.

  “Hi, Sheriff,” she replied, taking a seat across from him without an invitation.

  Frank’s face transformed from wide-eyed surprise to furrowed with worry, to stern and professional all within a matter of seconds. “Sonja, if you have something to report, I suggest you go through the proper channels.”

  She put the plastic baggie with the SD card on the desk.

  The sheriff looked down at the baggie and then back at Sonja. “What is that?”

  “It’s an SD card,” she replied.

  “Okay, I see. Why is it on my desk?”

  “No more questions until I’m finished telling you everything,” she instructed.

  “Hey,” he protested. “What’s this all about?”

  “It’s about Lincoln Bidwell,” she admitted.

  Sheriff Thompson stopped dead, his mouth hanging open. Shaking his head, he muttered, “I knew it.”

  “Will you let me talk?” She asked calmly.

  “I get the feeling that I don’t have much of a choice, Sonja, so go ahead.”

  Nodding, the she went into her speech—which she had practiced in her head before coming in the building—about finding the crime scene, about finding the memory card, about visiting Shamus and Carl, about finding the image of the murder weapon on the card, and finally about her suspicions about the two cameramen being the disowned son returned for revenge. The only elements she left out were the parts about the woman in white, Lincoln’s wife, and about her plans to meet with Samuel later at the community center.

  Sheriff Thompson calmly and patiently listened until she was done. When she had finished, she leaned back in the chair and waited for a response.

  The Sheriff paused, tapped his fingers on the desk, took a sip of his coffee, and then responded. “Sonja, I’m very angry with you. This is the fourth time you’ve gone and investigated a serious murder case behind my back—easily putting yourself in danger.”

  Sonja shrunk back in her chair.

  “This time, you really took the cake. You went deliberately under my radar and jumped ahead of me, interviewing potential witnesses without my knowledge, and tampering with a crime scene, withholding evidence.”

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  “Sorry isn’t good enough, Sonja. I could arrest you right now for the things you’ve done.”

  She nodded, fully aware that this was where this conversation was going, but hoped he really wouldn’t arrest her before she could discover if Samuel was the killer or not.

  “It won’t happen again,” she promised. If it meant she could have her friendship with Sheriff Thompson back to normal, she fully intended to give up her curious ways.

  “Somehow, I don’t believe that,” he stated. “Not to mention, if you really are on the right trail with this case, it could put you at risk.”

  “I’m just trying to help,” she said defensively.

  “Look, it’s my job to serve and protect the people of this town. How am I supposed to do that if you continue to blatantly disregard common sense and safety precautions?”

  “I’m sorry,” she reiterated.

  Leaning back in his chair, Frank sighed. “I don’t know what to do with you.”

  Sonja hesitated on her next words, picking them carefully. “You could take me out for coffee?”

  The thought obviously took a second to sink in with Frank, before his face turned in confusion again, followed by a slight blush of embarrassment. “Excuse me?” he responded.

  “I’m sorry, okay,” Sonja confessed. “I apologize for the way I treated you yesterday, for blowing you off and ignoring your question.” She pulled a tissue from the tissue box and nervously began to tear it into pieces. “You asking me out, well, it just really caught me off guard. I told everyone over and over that we were just friends. I honestly just didn’t know what to do or what to say. It was easier to just avoid the situation.”

  Sheriff Thompson sighed. “I see.”

  “Then, after finding the body I was just at my wits end. You hurt my feelings out in the woods. So, I guess I decided the best thing to do to get back at you was to go and investigate behind your back.”

  “To break the law,” he corrected.

  “I was foolish and impulsive.”

  “Yes, it was a very unwise decision, Sonja.”

  “The last two days have been horrible, and I realized I had no right to keep this information from you. I need you to help me solve this investigation.”

  Again, Sheriff Thompson paused. “I see. Well, I’m glad you came to your senses.”

  She nodded. “I’m really sorry, Frank,” she confessed, using his first name.

  His eyes softened. “Well,” he replied, sitting up and speaking in a professional tone, “I’ll let you off with a warning this time, but I never want to see you going behind my back again.”

  “Agreed.” The tissue in her hands looked more like confetti than anything else at this point.

  “But,” he said with a smile, “it is good to have you back.”

  For the first time since she walked in the office, she let out a sigh of relief.

  “I appreciate the information you’ve brought to my attention.” He picked up the baggie. “I’ll have this sent to the lab as soon as possible. If we can get anything substantial from it, we should have our lead suspect.�
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  “Right,” she replied.

  “You’re free to go,” he instructed, motioning toward the door.

  Sonja paused a moment, expecting him to actually take her up on her offer to go for coffee. Instead, he went back to his paperwork.

  “Oh,” she whispered, standing up from the chair.

  Turning for the exit, she walked over and opened the door.

  “By the way,” he interjected.

  She turned to face him expectantly.

  “What time should I pick you up tonight?” He smiled mischievously.

  Sonja laughed. “You’re such a jerk sometimes, you know that?”

  “I know.”

  “Does five work?” she asked.

  “How about six? Gives me time to go home and change out of the uniform.”

  “Okay, sounds good,” she confirmed. “See you then.”

  “See you then.”

  Sonja stepped out of the office to leave, but stopped in her tracks, remembering her meeting later at the community center. If she intended to keep her promise of not going behind Sheriff Thompson’s back, she needed to start now. Turning around, she leaned in the doorway. “Frank?”

  “Did you need something else?” he asked.

  “I may need your help with one more little, tiny thing.”

  CHAPTER 17

  At five before twelve Sonja found herself standing on the stage in the community center, waiting nervously for the culprit, a decoy SD card in a baggie in her hand. “Okay,” she whispered to herself. “You can do this.”

  The room was mostly dark, except for a few emergency lights and the red glow of the Exit signs. Who knew it could be so creepy and dark in the middle of the day.

  Hearing a sound somewhere in the shadows, her ears perked up and listened anxiously. At first, she thought maybe she had imagined the sound, but then the echo of distinct footprints could be heard.

  Reaching into her purse, Sonja felt the small canister of pepper spray Frank had given her and had also given her a brief training on using it effectively in case something went wrong during the sting.

  At first, the sheriff had been completely against the sting, but after some convincing, he decided to let Sonja continue with the meeting—seeing as it could potentially help them catch the culprit more quickly.

  He and both deputies were stationed in unmarked vehicles outside, waiting to see if anyone walked in.

  Watching the hallway across the room, Sonja noticed a shadow moving, growing larger as the footsteps grew louder—approaching the doorway. Sonja gasped as the figure of a man filled the doorway.

  The backlighting from the hall made it difficult to see who was there from across the large event room, but soon his voice confirmed who it was.

  “Sonja?”

  She instantly felt her stomach do a flip-flop in her belly. “Benjamin?”

  “Yeah, it’s me,” he offered, slowly walking across the room toward her.

  “What are you doing here?” She asked, a hint of nervousness in her voice.

  “I saw you walk in,” he replied, he came and stood just at the edge of the stage, looking up at her.

  “You saw me?”

  “Well,” he cocked his head to one side, “I’ve actually been following you a little today,” he admitted. “When I saw you walk into the front door, I decided to head around to the back and come in—so you wouldn’t see me.”

  Sonja’s heartbeat only increased at this new information.

  Bracing himself on the edge of the stage he leaped up next to Sonja who instinctively took a step back.

  “I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t have done that, but I needed to talk to you,” he took a step in closer.

  Sonja instantly stepped back. “Don’t touch me,” she warned.

  “Look, I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry for what I did.”

  “S-sorry isn’t good enough,” she retorted. “I know,” she explained. “I know everything.”

  Shaking his head, he tried to step close again, while she skirted his advance.

  “I said don’t touch me.”

  “I’m trying to talk to you.”

  “You said enough in your letter,” she replied.

  “Letter? I never wrote you a letter.”

  “And this says a whole lot more,” she exclaimed, holding up the SD card, and discretely moving her hand to her purse.

  “An SD card?” He asked, smiling wickedly. “What does that say about me?”

  “You know very well what it says. I know what you did.”

  Benjamin put his hands up. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “I know your Lincoln Bidwell’s disowned son, that you spent your life planning to come back here just to take your revenge.”

  “Sonja,” he whispered tentatively. “You’re obviously upset.”

  “This SD card proves you’re the murderer.”

  “Sonja,” he shouted, stepping close.

  She stumbled back, falling down just as a strange metallic clang came from above her.

  Looking up, she saw a heavy light fixture come out of the stage’s rafters and fall toward her. Screaming, she rolled out of the way right when metal met wood, plunging a hole partially through the stage.

  “Sonja,” Benjamin shouted, running at her.

  Jumping to her feet she ran, fumbling in her purse for the pepper spray as she went along. This wasn’t going at all as planned. It wasn’t supposed to be Benjamin who showed up, it wasn’t supposed to be Benjamin who tried to push her under a falling light fixture.

  “Sonja, come back,” he shouted, chasing after her.

  Diving into the door leading backstage, she desperately searched for a place to hide. Where were Sheriff Thompson and the deputies? They were supposed to make sure she stayed safe.

  Heading through another doorway and into a hallway, she spotted a janitor’s closet. Without another thought, she dove into the darkness of the confined space—trying to regulate her breathing so she wouldn’t be found.

  When she heard footsteps in the hall, she put her hand over her mouth to stop the breathing. That’s when she noticed the breathing didn’t stop.

  She felt moist, warm air blowing against her ear. Then a voice whispered, “Hello, Sonja.”

  CHAPTER 18

  Screaming, she burst out of the closet and right into Benjamin’s arms.

  “Sonja,” he shouted. “Are you okay?” He asked, worry in his eyes.

  “B-Benjamin?” she muttered.

  “Well, if it isn’t the cameraman,” the voice spoke from the darkness of the closet. A bearded figured emerged from the closet, smiling at the two of them and brandishing a rather large hunting knife.

  “Samuel Hawkins,” Sonja noted with a hint of shock in her voice.

  “Yep, it’s me, or you could just call me Daniel,” she said with a wicked smirk.

  “What’s going on?” Benjamin interrupted.

  “In some way, it’s a shame you had to show up unannounced,” Daniel commented. “This was supposed to be a party for two—only two, if you know what I mean.”

  “You’re Daniel Bidwell.”

  “Indeed I am,” he commented.

  “How can you do this?” Sonja asked, hoping to buy them time until Frank could get there. “How could you do this to your family?”

  Daniel’s face twisted, his eyes narrowing with rage. “I have no family.”

  “What about the family on your online profile?” She asked.

  “Just actors I hired to take pictures with me.”

  Benjamin looked more confused than ever. “I have no idea what’s going on.”

  “My family, my real family, got rid of me years ago.”

  “Why?” Sonja asked, putting her hand near her purse.

  “Why? Because I found out my father was a liar and a cheat. His old war buddy told me one night when he was sitting on the couch at our house—stinking drunk. When I asked mom about it the next day, she denied it, said n
ot to mention it to anyone. I tried to force her to tell me the truth, tried to get her to stop the lies. We were driving at the time. I grabbed her, and the car lost control. She died instantly, and I survived.” He grit his teeth, stepping closer with the knife.

  “That must have been difficult for you.”

  “My whole family legacy was a lie, my father’s life was a lie, and that lie killed my mom.”

  Sonja’s jaw dropped. “You blamed your father for your mother’s death?”

  “It was his fault, his lie that caused the accident. When I confronted him about it, told him I was going to expose him, he threatened to disown me.”

  Sonja nodded. “And he did.”

  “He did,” he whispered. “He called the cops on me, told them I had drugs in my car. Turns out, there were actually drugs there. He had planted them to hide his secret.”

  This family turned out to be more dysfunctional by the minute, Sonja thought.

  “He quietly had me shipped off to a school for troubled teens, and once I got there, officially disowned me.” Brandishing the knife, Daniel grimaced. “He lied to the entire town, lied to me, killed my mother, and then sent me off forever. I waited for years to come back and get my revenge—and finally, I got my chance.”

  “But you got caught.”

  “No, I didn’t,” he said matter-of-factly. “All I have to do dispose of you two and then we’ll be done here. I only wish my louse of a brother was implicated in the murder. I thought that stealing the fire poker from their house would be good enough—but I guess not.”

  Sonja instantly thought of the large scratches she had seen on Shamus’ door the previous day—finally putting it together.

  “If you hadn’t moved out of the way, my light would have already killed you,” the knife wielding man proclaimed. “It would have looked like an accident. So easy, so clean. But it looks like things will have to be a little messier.” He held up the hunting knife. “Just like things always are.”

  Lunging forward, he tried to stab Sonja with the knife. Sonja, already having her hand on the pepper spray, whipped it out and got her assailant point-blank in the face before his knife could meet flesh.