Cactus Waffle Murder Read online

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Cactus Waffle Murder

  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

  Cactus

  Waffle

  Murder

  A Wicked Waffle Paranormal Cozy

  Book 7

  By

  Carolyn Q. Hunter

  Copyright 2018 Summer Prescott Books

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication nor any of the information herein may be quoted from, nor reproduced, in any form, including but not limited to: printing, scanning, photocopying or any other printed, digital, or audio formats, without prior express written consent of the copyright holder.

  **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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  Cactus

  Waffle

  Murder

  A Wicked Waffle Paranormal Cozy

  Book 7

  Prologue

  * * *

  “I counted the till myself and not a red cent should be missing from that register when you put it up for the night, Hahnee,” the owner of the Alcove Trade Shop instructed his employee, pointing toward the bronze-colored machine sitting on top of the counter. The monstrosity was an antique and sometimes difficult to handle but added a certain charm to the New Mexico based tourist stop.

  “Yes, Mr. Harris,” Hahnee stumbled over his words, giving a slight bow of recognition.

  “And how many times do I have to tell you not to call me mister? Abooksigun or Abook is fine,” he insisted, trying to put the nervous young man at ease.

  Abook had only taken him on as a favor to the boy’s father, Taylor Still Eagle. Hahnee had always been mild-mannered and shy. It was well known that the boy was afraid of everything from mice, to snakes, to looking someone in the eye.

  Taylor hoped that Abook could give Hahnee some much-needed life skills and experience.

  Abook wasn't so sure he was the man for the job.

  “Now, do you have everything you need before I leave?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And you have the key to lock up the building behind you?”

  “Yes, sir,” he said bobbing his head again, a raven strand of hair falling over his face.

  “I told you. Call me Abook.”

  “Yes, sir,” he said. “I-I mean, Abook.”

  The shop owner strained to keep from rolling his eyes. Clearly, he’d bitten off more than he could chew. “And tie back your hair, will you? You’d be surprised how easy it is to get it caught in things,” he tapped the bronze register with two fingers, “like this beast.”

  “I understand . . . Abook,” he said, still getting used to using the older man’s first name.

  He fiddled with his waist-length hair, bunching it up behind his head and using a hair band to keep it in place.

  “Good. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Good night, sir,” he called, waving as Abook disappeared out the front door and into the dark New Mexico night.

  Once the car had driven off, Hahnee let out a loud and long breath of air. Seeing as the shop was located in the middle of nowhere, just outside the entrance to a national park, everything took on an eerily quiet atmosphere.

  “Okay, I can do this,” he spoke out loud to himself, using the rag he’d had in his hand the whole time to continue wiping down the glass countertops. “I just need to finish cleaning, clear out the register, shut off the lights, and then get out of here,” he continued whispering, making swifter strokes with the cloth.

  He usually would be concerned with doing a thorough job, making sure the displays of turquoise jewelry and miniature figures shined for tourists to see the next morning. However, with the growing silence around him, he decided to throw hard work to the wind and concentrate on getting out of the creepy building.

  While he was no stranger to the rural New Mexico wilderness, having grown up on a spread-out reservation, he had never liked it. Most nights he lay awake listening to the wind whistling across the desert plains, like ghosts singing to him from beyond the veil.

  He hated that sound and worse he hated all the old ghostly legends his father used to tell him—especially about skinwalkers. The thought of some sort of witch from beyond the grave, someone who can transform into the shape of animals, sent chills through his whole body.

  Stepping out from behind the square counter space at the center of the shop, he quickly moved through the array of souvenirs and novelty items the shop sold, dusting off statues, shelves, and displays with quick movements.

  When he deemed it “done enough” he rushed back through the opening into the center of the square checkout counter.

  Tossing the used-up paper towel into the garbage bin, he undid the bag from the can and tied it off. Carrying the bag toward the back door, he stepped out into the dark night. The metal door slammed behind him, practically making him jump out of the new loafers he’d purchased for the job. A yellow fluorescent light buzzed loudly from above the doorway, becoming almost as grating as the silence.

  Locating the silver trash receptacle, Hahnee lifted the lid and tossed the bag inside. He paused for a moment, looking out at the open wilderness behind the store. Plateaus, native trees, hiking paths, and ancient ruins were all tucked away within the park. In the distance, just along a dirt road, he could spot the kiosk where cars paid to enter the national preserve. It was dark, silent. The only reason he could spot it was because of the moonlight glinting on one of the windows.

  A shiver ran up his spine, shaking his whole body.

  Rushing back to the door to get into the safety of the shop, his hand gripped the doorknob and turned it. It didn’t move.

  “No. Oh, no,” he whispered, realizing he’d locked himself out.

  Jamming his hands into his pockets, his shaking fingers fumbled for the key that Abook had given him that same day. Besides some lint, a gum wrapper, and his wallet, the key was nowhere to be found.

  “No, no, no.” Walking along the back wall of the building, he prayed that the front door was still open. Had Abook locked it when he left? Hahnee couldn’t
remember.

  It was as he neared the back corner, about ready to turn out toward the front of the shop when he first heard the drum beat. Hahnee froze in place, his hands going cold. He was just imagining it, right?

  He listened carefully.

  The beating of the drum continued, growing louder and closer. A second later, a voice rose up in song along with the beat.

  “This isn’t happening,” he told himself, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to convince himself he wasn’t honestly hearing drum beats and voices from somewhere out in the wilderness. Taking a deep breath, he opened his eyes again and stepped around the corner of the building.

  That’s when he spotted it.

  Across the road from the front of the shop was a blazing fire—and dancing in a circle around it, drum tied to his waist and pounding away, was a being with the legs of a man but the chest and head of a wolf.

  It was a skinwalker.

  Chapter 1

  * * *

  “Oh, my goodness, Frank. It’s wonderful,” Sonja gasped, staring up in awe at the three-story adobe building in the center of downtown Santana, New Mexico. An arched dome held an old bell, likely the original from when the place had once been a mission back in the day.

  “Yep. The hottest hotel in the area. It used to be an old church that was converted back in the eighties,” Frank said, climbing out of the driver’s seat and stretching his arms high above his head. They’d been cooped up in the car since about twelve in the afternoon, only stopping for a quick bite along the way.

  While Sonja hadn’t gotten married in a traditional wedding dress, she was glad to have changed her clothes before making the lengthy drive. She knew her mother and her best friend, Alison, wanted to see her and Frank drive off in all their newlywed glory.

  However, they’d both elected to change into comfortable clothes before starting the six-hour drive from the Colorado Rockies to San Diego. Now that they were finally here in their honeymoon spot, Sonja could hardly believe it.

  Excitement swelled in her chest despite being sore and tired from the ride.

  “Is there a specific place we are supposed to park?” Frank wondered out loud, feeling like it was all too lucky to have gotten a spot along the street just in front of the hotel.

  In response to his question, a young man in a suit came up to them with a big smile on his face. “Welcome. Would you like our valet service, or would you care to park it yourself?”

  “I knew it was too good to be true,” he chuckled.

  “Yes, sir. This is the drop-off spot for valet service.”

  “I could probably park it myself if you’d just tell me where.”

  Sonja nudged her husband’s arm. “It’s our honeymoon, Frank. Let’s indulge a little and let the young man take care of the car for us. Don’t you want to get up to the hotel room?”

  “Okay, you’re right,” he beamed. Paying the young man, they rolled their luggage in through the front doors and into a large welcome area that had once been a chapel but was now divided into the lobby and restaurant. The tan walls were decorated with all manner of relics and antiques from the area ranging from headdresses to rusty six shooters to cowboy hats.

  Sonja drank in the atmosphere, feeling inspired and relaxed all at the same time.

  Heading for the desk, Frank pulled out his wallet. “Good evening. We have a reservation for the Thompsons.”

  Sonja secretly smiled to herself as she remembered that her last name was now Thompson. It was like she was really a part of Frank now, and he was a part of her.

  “Ah, yes. The honeymoon suite,” the stout man behind the desk said.

  Just as he turned to check the computer, another voice interrupted. “Excuse me, I demand to be served now,” a tall man in a perfect business suit demanded, pushing past Sonja and Frank as if they weren’t there and slapping the counter with his own credit card.

  The clerk turned and rose an eyebrow. “My apologies, sir, but this couple was here first.”

  “Do you have any idea who this is you’re dealing with?” a second, and much shorter man insisted stepping forward.

  “I haven’t the foggiest. In any case, I’ll have to ask you to please wait for this couple here. It will only take me a minute to get them checked in.”

  “This is Savile Denningsworth.”

  The clerk instantly went pale.

  “And I’m his lawyer, Hayden Magnate,” he said, emphasizing the word lawyer.

  Sonja’s jaw fell open at the behavior, hardly able to believe that these two felt so entitled to service. She had no idea who Savile Denningsworth was, and didn’t much care. No one should act in such a manner.

  However, much to her surprise, the clerk relented.

  “O-Oh, yes. Of course, Mr. Denningsworth. I’ll have you taken care of right away.”

  “Now wait just a dang minute,” Frank boomed, interrupting and shooting a sideways glance at the businessmen standing next to them. “I don’t know who these two guys are, but it’s poor customer service to just brush us aside.”

  Frank went ignored by both the men and the clerk.

  “Did you have a reservation, Mr. Denningsworth?” the clerk asked.

  “No, I don’t. This was a last-minute decision to come out here.”

  “I’ll see what we have.”

  “Now, hold on,” Frank snapped, placing both hands on the counter.

  “Please, sir. I’ll be with you in a moment,” the clerk acknowledged.

  “We were here first.”

  “Tourists,” the taller man huffed.

  “It looks like we have a room open on the third floor.”

  “It better be the best room in the hotel,” he spat back, impatiently tapping his finger on the counter.

  “It’s the best we have.”

  “The suite isn’t open?” he insisted.

  “N-No, sir. This couple has it booked for the next week.”

  The tall man narrowed his eyes at them, not in anger that they had the room he wanted, but in indignant righteousness that they didn’t deserve the room. At least, that was the sensation Sonja got from the look.

  She had a way of feeling people out. Sometimes she wondered if it was part of her sixth-sense or just womanly intuition.

  She could tell that this businessman, whoever he was, wanted to insist the rooms be switched around. However, using the same scathing glare she’d seen her own mother use throughout her life, Sonja sent a message back that it wasn’t going to happen.

  It seemed that the man got the message.

  “If I can’t have the suite, I better get a discount,” he insisted.

  Sonja hardly felt that this well-dressed man who demanded so much attention needed any kind of discount anywhere he went.

  “Very well, sir. I’ll speak with the owner about issuing a discount.”

  “Hurry it up. I’ve been on a plane for most of today and am looking forward to relaxing.”

  “Hey, bud. We’ve been in a car all day. That doesn’t mean we get to act like we own the place,” Frank said.

  Sonja grabbed his arm to quiet him down.

  Thankfully, neither the businessman or his lawyer responded to the insult. To them, Frank and Sonja were a minor nuisance.

  Sonja hated people like this.

  A few seconds later, the man was on his way toward the elevator.

  Once the doors slid shut, the clerk let out a long breath of air. “I’m so sorry about that. My manager says we always have to give Mr. Denningsworth top priority. I could lose my job if I don’t.”

  “Why? Who is he?”

  “He is only one of the most lucrative real-estate tycoons in the region. He owns more land, stores, condos, and hotels than I could ever imagine.” He shivered, turning back to the computer. Sonja could see that the clerk was afraid of the man and she could hardly imagine it. “Now, let me get you two checked in.”

  Chapter 2

  * * *

  “Can you believe that? That is not a
good impression for new customers,” Frank complained, making their way to the third floor where their suite was located.

  “I know, but let’s try not to let it ruin our evening.”

  “If nothing else, I’m going to leave a bad review online.”

  “Frank. It is our wedding night, after all,” Sonja said, trying to get him to focus on the happy occasion instead of the minor mishap in the lobby.

  Sighing, he looked down at his new bride and smiled, kissing her on the lips. She leaned into his chest just as the elevator reached the top floor. “Of course. You’re absolutely right. I won’t think of the hotel clerk or that rude man and his lawyer for the rest of tonight.”

  “Good,” she smirked,

  The chime dinged, and the doors opened, revealing the hallway before them. Much to Sonja’s dismay, the sound of angry voices echoed down the hall—and she instantly recognized the one belonging to the businessman from downstairs.

  “Do you want me to call hotel security and have you removed for harassment?” he demanded, standing over some petite red-haired woman and glaring at her.

  “You killed my husband. There is no getting around that,” she spat back in his face.

  “Your husband was a coward and took the easy way out, plain and simple. That isn’t my fault.”

  “Savile, please,” the lawyer interrupted, stepping in between the two. “Why don’t we all just calm down.”

  “And you. You’re his little crony,” the woman continued her threat. “You just do whatever he says, even going as far as to cover up murder.”

  “I am in the business of land, not murder,” he insisted.

  “I’m going to prove it. I’m going to show the world what kind of monster you are,” she croaked, tears welling up in her eyes. With that, she spun on her heel and marched down the hallway and disappeared into one of the rooms.

  “Sir, please step into your room,” the lawyer insisted, pushing Savile back into the doorway.