Fireworks and Waffles (The Diner of the Dead Series Book 18)
TABLE OF CONTENTS
FIREWORKS AND WAFFLE
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
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
Fireworks
and
Waffles
Book Eighteen
in
The Diner of the Dead Series
By
Carolyn Q. Hunter
Copyright 2017 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.
Author’s Note: On the next page, you’ll find out how to access all of my books easily, as well as locate books by best-selling author, Summer Prescott. I’d love to hear your thoughts on my books, the storylines, and anything else that you’d like to comment on – reader feedback is very important to me. Please see the following page for my publisher’s contact information. If you’d like to be on her list of “folks to contact” with updates, release and sales notifications, etc…just shoot her an email and let her know. Thanks for reading!
Also…
…if you’re looking for more great reads, check out the Summer Prescott Publishing Book Catalog:
http://summerprescottbooks.com/book-catalog/ for some truly delicious stories.
Contact Info for Summer Prescott Publishing:
Twitter: @summerprescott1
Blog and Book Catalog: http://summerprescottbooks.com
Email: summer.prescott.cozies@gmail.com
And…look up The Summer Prescott Fan Page and Summer Prescott Publishing Page on Facebook – let’s be friends! To sign up for our fun and exciting newsletter, which will give you opportunities to win prizes and swag, enter contests, and be the first to know about New Releases, click here:
https://forms.aweber.com/form/02/1682036602.htm
FIREWORKS AND
WAFFLES
Book Eighteen in The Diner of the Dead Series
PROLOGUE
* * *
Carol Bradshaw hung up the phone with a huff, making the bells ring quietly inside the old plastic rotary shell. It felt like an echo of her own irritation. Sometimes, she just couldn’t stand the way people treated her, especially men. What gave them the right to act like they knew more about her own job than she did?
Just because fireworks were explosives didn’t mean that men automatically had some magical knowledge about them, contrary to the opinion of one local event planner.
Sometimes, she felt like the wizard from a fantasy novel she’d read once—carefully crafting high-quality fireworks to entertain and bring joy to the masses, all the while the bumbling idiots who wanted to control her job came in and foolishly fired off one of the most dangerous fireworks.
It was completely ludicrous.
The most recent idiocracy was coming from the event planner of Haunted Falls. The Fourth of July citywide parade and picnic was quickly approaching, and it was Carol’s busiest time of the year. Unfortunately, it also meant she had to deal with the most flak from city officials as they planned the fireworks show.
This year, the town’s professional event planner was insisting that, during the parade, he was going to ride a float with all the fireworks for that year’s show on board. He wanted everyone in town to see him “usher them to the field” where they would then be shot off for everyone to see.
Carol had tried to explain over and over that it simply wouldn’t work.
First of all, a modern fireworks show was a very technical and painstaking undertaking, even for a small-scale pyrotechnics company like her own. She couldn’t very well just unload the fireworks one by one off the float and shoot them off.
The event planner had the idea in his head that all she had to do was light a match and ignite the fuse. Nope, he couldn’t be any more wrong. It took hours of hard work to set up the show in a manner that was safe and effective. The whole event ran off a computer program. Every firework had to be wired into the system just right, in the right order, for it to work properly.
Second, of all, it was way too dangerous to load up a parade float with a bunch of live fireworks. One wrong bump or spark from the engine and the whole thing could go up like a roman candle.
On top of the already present danger, the event planner wanted to wave a sparkler while he stood on the float. Bad idea.
Still, no matter how she tried to explain it to him, he refused to take “no” for an answer. He kept on saying things like “I’m sure you can figure it out” and “They aren’t as dangerous as you make them out to be.”
How the heck would he know how dangerous the fireworks were? Was he a professional pyrotechnician? No, he wasn’t, but Carol was. Her job was extremely delicate and most people working in her position lost at least one or two fingers before they retired.
The arrogance of people just made her blood boil. She’d known the event planner, Hoss Trivilli, most of her life and he had always been a self-righteous punk, acting like he was better than everyone else around him. She supposed being a domineering event planner who got to boss people around fit his personality well, and he’d most likely gotten the job because of his go to attitude.
Sighing, she shook her head and sat down behind her desk.
Unfortunately, if she didn’t do the float, he was threatening to hire someone else to do the show. “I’ll find someone with a bigger and better organization. Maybe one of those companies from Denver,” he’d scoffed.
“That jerk.”
To do what he wanted, she’d have to double her work. She’d need to create and set up a firework show like she always did, but would have to make a bunch of dummy fireworks to put onto the float to make it look like he was delivering the show for the town.
She hated him.
Realizing she was clenching her fists on the desk so hard that her knuckles were turning white, she let the tension out of her hands and decided it was time to head home for the night. Standing up, she grabbed her jacket and walked out the front door of her office.
As she was locking up, she glanced across the street and noticed the strange figure walking down the street wearing a long, hooded cloak. They carried a large strange package under one arm.
She swore this small town got weirder every day.
* * *
Noticing the woman staring from across the street, the cloaked figure wondered if it would be wise to get rid of her now. Would the woman talk? Would she say what she had seen that night?
They couldn’t risk having any interference with their plans.
After a moment’s thought, however, they decided it was best not to do anything in haste. Another dead body or missing person would just draw unnecessary attention.
They’d have to wait.
Walking around the corner of the building, they headed up a sloping road and across an empty parking lot. A singular lamp post c
ast a pale-yellow light over the pavement. The figure avoided the light and headed for the chrome building just across the lot.
Approaching the back doorway to The Waffle Diner and Eatery, the person couldn’t help but smile. Time was getting short, and the cogs were already in motion.
Setting the package down on the stoop, they double checked that no one else was around and then sprinted off into the nearby woods behind the diner.
CHAPTER 1
* * *
Pulling up outside the Town Hall, Sonja Reed parked on the street and stepped out of her white catering van with the large picture of a waffle—steaming with a pat of butter and syrup on top—painted on it. Walking across the street, she climbed the long row of stone steps and in between the two pillars and through the oak double doors.
She’d rarely ever been inside the large white building since it only housed courtrooms and city offices. However, today she was on Hoss Trivilli’s radar thanks to the upcoming Fourth of July celebration.
Mr. Trivilli, having just been hired that same year, was determined that the upcoming Independence Day Parade and subsequent fireworks show would be the best the little Rocky Mountain town had ever seen. This meant he was relying on all the local businesses and restaurants to participate to the fullest.
Sonja, while a huge fan of celebrations, parades, and food, didn’t particularly care for other people putting their fingers into her life and telling her how she needed to run her business for the “benefit of the whole community.”
Those had been the words that Mr. Trivilli had used on the phone.
Still, Sonja wanted to be patriotic and wanted to contribute to the upcoming events, so she had agreed to meet with the event planner despite her incredibly busy schedule. Yet again, Sonja’s best friend and business partner, Alison, was left to open and manage the diner on her own that morning.
Sonja just hoped that this meeting was short and she could get back to the diner to help out as soon as she could.
Walking up the large marble staircase to the second floor, Sonja stepped onto the balcony. It was like a large bridge going from one side of the room to the other. You could look down the stairs into the lobby from where she’d just come or down the opposite side to where there was a small eatery. She felt a small sense of vertigo and stepped away from the railing before she walked off into a hallway of offices.
At the end of the hall, she stepped through the door marked City Event Planner. The waiting room was small, with wooden chairs against one wall and a secretary’s desk sitting at the other. The desk looked mostly bare except for the computer and the glass vase of flowers in the corner.
“Can I help you?” the secretary asked, glancing up at the new arrival. Her hair was pinned up nicely and she wore a pair of glasses on the end of her nose like a stereotypical librarian. Despite a clearly fresh coat of makeup, she looked worn out and tired. Her eyes were slightly red as if from lack of sleep or crying. Sonja could only assume it was a tiresome job to be Hoss Trivilli’s secretary.
“I have a meeting at eight A.M. with Mr. Trivilli?”
“He just got in a moment ago,” she informed her. “If you’ll just take a seat, I’ll let him know you’re here.”
“Thanks.” Sitting down in one of the little wooden chairs, Sonja tapped her foot impatiently. She had hoped to just walk right in, sit down, and discuss the parade without so much as a hiccup. In and out in a little less than fifteen minutes.
Unfortunately for her, it looked like she’d be forced to wait. If she’d thought ahead and realized this was going to be the case, she would have brought a book to read or something else to do. Worse yet, her phone had died after she forgot to charge it the night before.
She had literally nothing to occupy her while she was forced to sit there awkwardly in the small room with the secretary shuffling papers. She considered starting up a conversation with the woman when a flyer fluttered down from a stack of papers on the desk, landing at Sonja’s feet.
“Sorry about that,” the secretary offered. She pointed at the colorful piece of paper on the floor. “Do you mind?”
“Of course, not,” Sonja replied, picking up the flyer and handing it to the woman. It was an ad for a professional fireworks and pyrotechnics company in Denver—Famous Farnum Fireworks. Sonja only guessed it made sense that the city offices would receive ads like that in the mail during this time of year. “Last minute research?”
The woman looked up at Sonja with an irritable crinkle in the corners of her eyes. “Mr. Trivilli wants to be completely informed on all his different options for the Fourth of July show—just in case our local option doesn’t pan out properly.”
Sonja found the comment a little odd. As far as she knew, Carol Bradshaw had always done the fireworks display in Haunted Falls each year. Were they thinking of replacing her with a larger more established company? Sonja hoped not. As a small business owner herself, she was a big advocate for supporting local trade.
The secretary went right back to work without another word, getting on the computer and mindlessly clicking. She was probably busy, tired, and in no mood for idle conversation. Sonja was forced to sit there in silence.
Fifteen minutes came and went without so much as a hiccup from Mr. Trivilli. Sonja, glancing at her watch, was about ready to leave when the door finally opened.
“Sonja?” Mr. Trivilli poked his head out of the office with a smile plastered on, waving her to step into his office.
Putting on her own fake smile, she stood up and followed him inside.
“Thanks for coming.” He took a seat in the large leather chair behind the desk. He motioned at the wooden chair, far less comfortable looking than his own, across from him. “Please, take a seat.”
Doing as he said, she crossed her legs and waited to endure whatever it was that he had to say. Unfortunately, Sonja had been warned by other small business owners in town that the new event planner was a notable control freak and often expected things to go his way. Supposedly he had been meeting with all the businesses to discuss their involvement in the town’s celebration.
“So, as you know, the Fourth of July parade is coming up.”
“Yes, on the fourth of July,” she said, trying to make a little joke.
Mr. Trivilli paused, looking a little confused. After a second, his face showed recognition and he began to laugh lightly. “I like a woman with a sense of humor.” He shook a finger at her.
Sonja tried to keep a professional smile on her face.
“To the point,” he said, cutting off his own laughter, “I want to discuss your plans for the parade.”
“My plans?”
“Of course. The parade comes right by your diner.” He leaned in, his protruding belly rubbing up against the grain of the wood. “I envision you standing outside, tables set up in the parking lot, serving those delicious waffles to the public.”
Sonja nodded her head, just playing along. “Yes, that was my plan.” It wasn’t a lie. She and Ally had spent the better part of Saturday shopping around for different table cloths, napkins, or decorations for the occasion. They even had ideas for putting up red, white, and blue banners along the outside of the diner and across the parking lot connecting to the lamp post.
Needless to say, the two women loved holidays of any kind. They always went all out.
“Good, good. I’m glad to hear that.”
Sonja’s original assumptions were beginning to become more justified. This was an unnecessary meeting to discuss plans that she and Alison already had in place. If nothing else, this was to satisfy Trivilli’s sense of control.
“And as far as your new waffle recipe—”
“Who says we're doing a new recipe?” she cut in, being sincere in the question. She loved coming up with new waffle specials, but lately, she was getting a little burnt out on it. She’d hoped just to serve some great American classics at the parade. She already knew, based on how loyal all the customers were, no one would complain.
>
“Of course, you’re doing a new waffle recipe,” he insisted, a look of utter surprise encompassing his face as if she’d just insulted his integrity.
Maybe she had.
“I was thinking something along the lines of hot dogs. Nothing says America quite like a ballpark delicacy. You could slice them up and top the waffle with them, or you could use the waffle as a bun.”
“Wait, excuse me?” She was willing to let him think he was in control of some aspects of her participation in the parade, but if Trivilli thought he was going to do any kind of decision making about her cooking or menu, he was dead wrong.
On top of that, hotdogs on waffles? That was just vile.
“Is something wrong?”
“We are not doing hotdogs with waffles. Absolutely not.”
“Of course, you are. I was already planning on it.”
“You were planning on it? Well, you’ll have to plan differently, because I refuse to do that. And what gives you the right to dictate what I choose to serve from my establishment on the Fourth?”
His bushy eyebrows furrowed irritably. “I am the town’s event planner,” he said as if it were a trump card.
“And I am done with this conversation.” Standing up, she marched toward the door.
“Ms. Reed, what do you think you’re doing?”
“Don’t worry.” She paused in the doorway and turned back to face him. “We’ll be serving a new waffle at the parade, but it will not be a hotdog waffle.” Sticking her nose up in the air proudly, she walked out the door.
Mr. Trivilli tried to make an argument to the contrary, but Sonja didn’t hear him as the door slammed shut.
CHAPTER 2
* * *
Sonja arrived at the diner a little later than usual, thanks to her meeting with Mr. Trivilli, and rushed inside the back door into the kitchen. “Sorry I’m so late,” she called out, hanging her purse on the wall peg and lifting her apron off the next one. “My meeting with the event planner went a little long.”