Spooky Sweetheart Waffle: Book 9 in The Diner of the Dead Series

by Carolyn Q. Hunter

  Pausing, her friend sighed, realizing just how over dramatic she had been acting. “I guess you’re right,” Ally smiled. “I’m just glad we got a babysitter a few weeks ago. It seems like everyone in town is going to this dance.”

  “They probably are.”

  Moving her purse aside, Alison began helping to pack up food and equipment. “I’ll feel a lot better once we’re up at the Smith Manor and not down here next to a dead body.”

  “I couldn’t agree more.”

  “I swear, sometimes it feels like this place is just haunted or something,” Alison shivered.

  “You have no idea,” Sonja whispered.

  * * *

  The two women spent the morning getting everything loaded into the van. Having to carry everything through the dining room instead of just out the back door made things slightly more difficult.

  However, around eleven, they were packed up and ready to go.

  Climbing into the driver’s seat, Sonja turned on the radio. Borja was the highlight on the jazz station, again, her sultry voice echoing through the car.

  “Oh, let’s change it,” Ally insisted, reaching out and turning the dial to the pop station. “I just can’t stand that jazz stuff.”

  Ignoring the music change, and her friend’s dislike of the genre, Sonja turned to her business partner. “We’ve got to stop and pick up my mom before we head up to the manor.”

  “Your mom? Is she coming along to help?”

  Sonja nodded. “Yep. Valentine’s Day is always a really difficult time for her ever since my dad left, so I told her I’d pick her up and let her come help at the diner.”

  “Guess she can just help us get things ready for the party, instead,” Ally shrugged.

  “My thoughts exactly.” Putting the van into drive, they pulled out of the front parking lot and onto the icy road.

  A few flakes falling on the windshield indicated another flurry was headed their way. The gray sky only seemed to get darker as they drove.

  Driving up the road toward her mother’s house, they briefly passed by the back lot of the diner, Sonja couldn’t help her sick sense of curiosity and glanced over at the crime scene. The two deputies remained on the site, one standing watch and the other doing a grid-based search of each section of the lot. To her surprise, Daniella was close behind him, her black hair hanging haphazardly over her face as she stalked the officer.

  Sonja wondered what the ghost was doing. For some reason, the dead woman seemed far more interested in this murder case than in some of the others.

  * * *

  As they drove, Sonja couldn’t get Daniella out of her mind. In life, the woman had been a beauty queen who vanished during a local pageant in Haunted Falls. Sonja found out, while doing some landscaping on the diner, that the young pageant contestant hadn’t vanished, but had in fact been murdered. Her skeleton was hidden on the diner’s grounds.

  After Sonja solved Daniella’s murder case, the ghost had all but gone quiet. Wracking her brain, the diner owner tried to figure out why the woman decided to show up now. What possible investment could the dead beauty queen have in Carson Pool?

  On top of all of that, Sonja couldn’t get the name Johnny Wales out of her mind. Why did that name ring a bell? She supposed she could ask one of the other people working on the dance, Hayden or Borja. They both seemed to know Johnny, or at least knew of him.

  As they approached her mother’s house, she tried to push the thoughts from her mind. Turning into the driveway, she noted a second car she didn’t recognize parked out front.

  “I’ll be just a minute.” Leaving the van running, Sonja trotted up to the front door of her mother’s house and stepped inside. “Mom,” she shouted, walking through the entranceway and into the living room. “I know I’m a little early, but are you ready?”

  The clink of a teacup indicated that someone was in the kitchen.

  “Mom?”

  Walking into the kitchen Sonja stopped so abruptly she almost toppled over onto the tile floor. Catching herself on the doorframe, she blinked her eyes a few times and examined the room once again, just to make sure she hadn’t imagined it.

  Sitting together at the kitchen table, drinking tea from the fine pink flower-patterned china and eating scones, was her mother . . . and her father.

  CHAPTER 6

  * * *

  “Hi, Sonja,” he greeted his daughter as if not a moment had gone by since the day he left. “Do you want to have a cup of tea with your mother and me?”

  “D-Dad!” Sonja exclaimed, almost shouting. “What are you doing here?”

  She felt sick to her stomach and excited all at the same time seeing her parents together again. Her mother sat across from him, and much to Sonja’s surprise and dismay, she was holding his hand.

  “I came for a visit,” her father replied nonchalantly. He picked up another black onyx chocolate scone with strawberry drizzle from the plate and took a bite. “You have to try these scones, they’re delicious.”

  “She knows, dear,” Diane whispered. “She made them herself.”

  “You’ve become quite the baker,” he beamed, taking another hearty bite and following it with a sip of tea.

  Sonja felt herself growing hot, as if she were a pot of water slowly coming to a boil. “A visit?” she spit through clenched teeth. “You came for a visit?”

  Letting go of her husband’s hand, Diane stood up, never removing her smile once. “Isn’t it wonderful, dear?” she lilted. “He’s come to spend Valentine’s Day with us.”

  “Valentine’s Day?”

  “He even asked me to accompany him to the dance this evening.”

  “That’s right,” Samuel continued, “We’re going to the dance together. I hear you’re catering it.”

  Sonja’s eyes widened in both hurt and surprise. She had no concept of how her mother could be so happy, so calm, about this whole situation. How had she not tossed this traitor immediately out on his butt? She knew it was her father, and part of her still loved him, but he had done some extremely hurtful things that she wasn’t ready to forgive him for.

  “Oh,” Diane squeaked excitedly. “I didn’t tell you the best part, dear.” She used the nickname dear as if the nearly five years of estrangement had never happened. “Sonja is dating someone.”

  “Who?” Her father inquired sincerely.

  “Frank Thompson.”

  “The Sheriff?” Samuel leaned back in his seat and laughed joyously.

  Sonja snorted angrily.

  Her mother beamed. “They’re just perfect together.”

  “Well, I sure hope so.” He leaned in and took another sip from his tea cup. “I’d like to talk to him. Will he be at the dance, sweetie?”

  “Dad!” Sonja yelled, feeling herself beginning to boil over.

  “Sonja,” her mother scolded. “You be courteous to your father and drop that tone of voice. He came all this way to see us.”

  Sucking in a deep breath, Sonja let the air out with a whoosh. If she was going to have it out with her father, didn’t want to do it in front of her mother. “Can I talk to you alone, Dad? Please?”

  “Alone?” her mother interjected, clearly feeling left out of the loop. “Why can’t we all sit and talk together?”

  Standing up, Samuel placed both his palms on the table, leaving the last bite of scone on his plate. “I think she’s right, Diane. I think she deserves a few minutes alone with her father.”

  Diane looked from daughter to father. “Oh, very well,” she conceded, with a smile returning to her face. “I’m just glad to have you home, dear.”

  * * *

  Stepping into her father’s old office, where the bookshelves were now lined with row after row of her mother’s romance novels, Sonja leaned against the desk with her palms. She tried to compose herself.

  Samuel shut the door behind himself as he followed her in.

  Turning indignantly, her hands on her hips, Sonja glared at the man standing before her
—the one person on earth who could conjure up so many conflicting feelings of love, excitement, sorrow, and hate all in a singular moment.

  “What are you doing here?” she demanded.

  “You have every right to be angry, sweetie,” he raised his hands defensively.

  “Stop calling me that,” she whispered, using every fragment of her willpower to keep the tears from flowing down her cheeks. Realizing her eyes were growing misty, she looked down toward the floor.

  “I’m very sorry, Sonj’. I really am.”

  “Just answer my question, please,” Sonja pleaded, regaining a little of her composure. “Why are you here? After all this time?”

  Samuel sighed, shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his black denim jeans. “You’re right. You’re absolutely right. You deserve an explanation.”

  “I deserve more than that,” she demanded. “I deserve to know why you left us. I deserve to know what the heck has been going on this last year in my life. I deserve to know why I can see ghosts and why you seem to know all about it.”

  “You do,” he nodded, stepping closer to his daughter and placing both of his hands on her shoulders the way Frank always did. It made Sonja a little uncomfortable. “But now is not the time.”

  “When is the time, Dad? You leave me cryptic notes, offer me glimpses of the answer, but never actually come out and help me when I need you most.” Now her composure was all but gone and the tears flowed freely down her cheeks.

  “I’m planning on staying for a while, Sonja. We’ll have plenty of time to talk.”

  “Staying?” she blurted out. “Staying where?”

  “Well,” he tilted his head to one side. “Staying here, of course. With you and your mother.”

  “Mom’s okay with that?”

  “I haven’t asked her yet.”

  Sonja gritted her teeth. She already knew her mother would say yes.

  While Sonja disagreed with the decision based on principle alone, she also couldn’t blame her mother. After all, Diane was completely and utterly alone most of the time. The only enjoyment she got from life since her father left was in seeing Sonja’s accomplishments.

  The chance to have the love of her life back was probably too good to pass up for Diane, no matter how much her husband had hurt her over the past years.

  “For right now, I’ve only asked her to accompany me to the dance tonight.”

  Sonja shrugged, wiping the tears from her cheeks. “Why?”

  “I want a new start in life, a new start with your mother,” he paused, leaning down and trying to get his daughter to look him in the eye. “I want another with you, too, Sonj’.”

  “It doesn’t make sense,” Sonja’s voice wavered, a sob coming through. “Why now?”

  Letting go of her shoulders, her father stood up straight. “I’ve been foolish,” he confessed. Taking a deep breath, he sighed. “Most of all, I know now that I’ve been foolish in letting you navigate your powers on your own. I need to be here for you, to help you through these new experiences.”

  Instantly, all her anger came rushing back, hitting her like a midsummer heatwave. His words confirmed the truth. He knew all along about her struggles with the supernatural. He knew, and up until now, he had done nothing.

  He had run off and left her to fight these horrors alone.

  “I don’t need your help,” she barked. “I can manage on my own.” Pushing him out of the way, she threw open the office door and ran out.

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

  The young redhead didn’t stop. As quick as a breeze, she left the way she’d come.

  CHAPTER 7

  * * *

  After driving ever so carefully and slowly up the winding mountain road to the Smith Manor, which sat at the highest point of Haunted Falls, Sonja hit the call button on the panel near the front gate of the house.

  A moment later, the gate opened and they pulled through.

  The drive from her mother’s house to the manor had been quiet and awkward. Alison knew instinctively that her best friend was upset and had even tried to get her to talk about it, but it was clear that Sonja just wasn’t ready.

  Instead, they sat in silence until they reached the back door of the manor.

  “Okay, let’s get everything unloaded,” Sonja instructed as if there were nothing wrong. Overall, she had regained her composure and the redness in her face had mostly vanished. She didn’t have time to be upset about her estranged father’s sudden reappearance, she had work to do.

  Drawing her coat tightly around her body, she proceeded to open the back doors of the catering van.

  “So,” Alison said, breaking the ice as she picked up a large sack of flour, “Do you think Frank will have time to come to the dance tonight?”

  Sonja glanced up at her friend, surprised by the unexpected topic of conversation.

  “I mean, with the dead body and all?”

  “I don’t know,” she replied, picking up the mixer and following her friend toward the service entrance. “Honestly, he never even brought up the dance.”

  Stepping into the back door, which was unlocked just as Belinda had said it would be, they found themselves in a lavishly decorated hallway. Red wallpaper with gold embellishments adorned the walls, while a dark green patterned rug ran along the floor. Victorian style lighting fixtures adorned the walls like torches, illuminating the space against the gray, snowy darkness of the day.

  On the right side of the hall was an old service elevator. At the end of the hall was a staircase leading to the second floor. On the left was a set of swinging oak doors, stained dark, with the stereotypical circular windows set into the wood. “I think the kitchen’s through here,” Sonja motioned, using her back to push through.

  “He hasn’t asked you yet?” Ally exclaimed, following her friend into the kitchen. “Does he even care that it’s Valentine’s Day?”

  Sonja could only shrug in reply as she set the mixer down.

  Examining the kitchen, Alison placed the heavy bag on one of many white marble counters. “Sheesh, talk about fancy.” Wood grain cabinets took up most of the walls, some of them even sporting glass panels so you could see all the fine china and crystal dinnerware inside.

  “Anyway, I thought for sure he was going to ask me today,” Sonja sighed. “Instead, he’s busy investigating another murder case. Just my luck, right?”

  “Is that why you were upset when you came out of the house?”

  Sonja shook her head. “It’s nothing like that. If Frank is too busy doing his job, I understand.”

  “And you’re too busy catering this dance to help him out this time,” Ally pointed out.

  “He doesn’t need my help,” Sonja protested. “In fact, he doesn’t want my help. Remember how he threatened to arrest me last year for interfering in police investigations?”

  Alison simply shrugged. “That was months ago. You two weren’t even dating yet.”

  “What does us dating have to do with it? Rules are rules, aren’t they?”

  “I don’t know,” her friend commented, heading toward the door to get another load from the van. “I’ve heard him tell you what a great intuition you have. Maybe he secretly wants your help?”

  Sonja followed her friend, “I doubt that.”

  “Besides, he might not have solved any of those previous murders without you.”

  “Maybe, maybe not,” Sonja noted as they stepped back outside into the gray, cold day. “I sort of just got dragged into all those investigations.”

  As she grabbed the cardboard box full of spices and condiments, Sonja noticed an overly expensive pink sports car driving up around the manor. The color and style seemed far too garish for Belinda’s tastes.

  “Who is that?” Alison echoed Sonja’s thoughts.

  “I have a hunch,” she noted, remembering Belinda’s warning from earlier that day.

  Parking just behind the van, the car’s engine turned off and the
door swung open, turning upwards instead of outwards, with a hydraulic whoosh.

  Stepping out of the car and striking a ridiculous pose was a thin older gentleman in a purple suit. Despite the cloudiness of the day, he wore a pair of stylish sunglasses that covered much of his face. His black hair, only marred by light streaks of gray at the temples, was perfectly maintained, and he wore a light pink scarf around his neck that blew in the wind.

  “Good afternoon, ladies,” he spoke in a surprisingly deep, guttural voice. Walking toward them, he lowered his glasses briefly to eye the van with a look of disgust.

  Sonja refrained from groaning.

  “I assume you are the caterers?” he inquired, holding out a hand like a king expecting a servant to kiss his ring.

  Grabbing a hold and shaking his hand vigorously, Alison beamed sarcastically. “Why, yes. We are. I’m Alison and this is my business partner, Sonja Reed.”

  Sonja tried not to laugh at the man’s shocked expression as her friend rattled him about.

  Drawing his hand back, and clearly a little shaken by the introduction, his lip curled back as he said, “Charmed.”

  Clearing her throat and attempting to put on a more professional demeanor, Sonja stepped in with a smile. “I assume you are the decorator, Johnny Wales?”

  Clearly relieved at Sonja’s more normalized approach, he nodded and then bowed. “At your service, ladies.”

  Examining him more closely, and wishing he’d remove his sunglasses so she could get a better look at his face, she tried to place where she might know him from. Unfortunately, while his name seemed familiar, his demeanor did not.

  She was sure she’d remember such a flamboyant and colorful older gentleman.

  So why did she know his name? Was he a well-known decorator she’d read about somewhere?

  Unable to come up with a plausible answer at the moment, she continued with the conversation. “A pleasure to meet you,” she stated. “We’re just getting everything set up so we can be ready for this evening.”