High Steaks Waffle (The Diner of the Dead Series Book 16) Read online

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  HIGH STEAKS 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

  CHAPTER 19

  High Steaks

  Waffle

  Book Sixteen

  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.

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  HIGH STEAKS

  WAFFLE

  Book Sixteen in The Diner of the Dead Series

  PROLOGUE

  * * *

  The Firehouse Grill and Steakhouse was eerily quiet during their off hours. Dim emergency lights illuminated the brick walls and antique firefighting equipment that adorned the rooms throughout the building. Originally the town’s first fire station, it had been named a historical landmark and eventually converted into a restaurant and museum. The high-class restaurant was one of the most popular places in Haunted Falls, filled to the brim with diners at the tables and drinkers at the bar.

  However, by two in the morning, well after closing time, the old brick building was almost completely devoid of life—except for one person.

  Tanner Shakeman, sitting in his office at the topmost level of the repurposed bell tower, was still working away the hours like a modern-day scrooge. His large mahogany desk had papers, notes, and other documents spread out across it. An empty carafe near a stained mug was only one indication of how many cups of coffee he’d had to keep him energized into the early hours of the morning.

  He’d even gone as far as to crack open the windows on either side of his office, letting a cold mountain breeze through, chilling him into alertness. The whistling sound of it was somewhat annoying, but if it kept him awake long enough to finish his new advertising and publicity campaign it would be worth it.

  He’d begun plodding away on it around eight in the evening and had been at his computer non-stop since then.

  He was preparing to unveil a new line of menu items for the steak house, something that would push him back up the ranks and reclaim his spot as the number one restaurant in Haunted Falls.

  In the past year, much to Mr. Shakeman’s disapproval, they had dropped to second place. It wouldn’t have been so terrible if they’d lost out to some sort of fine dining experience, but that wasn’t the case—they’d been outdone by a hole-in-the-wall.

  A year prior, a young woman named Sonja Reed had taken over as owner and manager of a local restaurant named The Waffle Diner and Eatery. It was a greasy little speck on the landscape of Haunted Falls, and for some reason unknown to Shakeman, it had become the most popular spot in the region seemingly overnight.

  Ms. Reed seemed to have some sort of magical power about her, and any recipe she touched—especially if it involved a waffle iron—just turned to gold. It made Tanner so angry he could pull his hair out (which he would never do because he was proud of his silver perfectly combed locks). While being number two in the region hardly meant any real detriment to the financial status of his business, he was a proud man and refused to be undercut by some measly roadside attraction.

  He’d been fuming about it for months now, but had finally come up with a sure-fire plan that would help them reclaim their number one spot and possibly even put the dirty little diner out of business for good.

  Despite the early hour, and his lack of sleep, he smirked proudly while he arranged his paperwork he was going to give to his communications director the next morning.

  Standing up from his desk, file in hand, he walked over to the filing cabinet and placed his winning advertising plan away and locked it up tight by pushing in the button in the top left corner.

  Brushing off his hands proudly, he grabbed his suit coat and briefcase and headed for the steep old-fashioned stairway that led to the lower levels of the brick building.

  Just as his hand touched the brass railing of the staircase, however, he heard a loud metallic pop. Turning quickly around, he examined the room.

  What had made that noise? Had it been from outside? Had a bird flown into the side of the building?

  Then he noticed it. The lock on the cabinet was undone, the button popped back out.

  “What the devil?” he muttered, walking back across the room and pushing the lock back in again. “Strange.”

  Turning to go, the sound came again.

  Facing the cabinet, sure enough, the lock had come undone. “Cheap piece of junk,” he spat. “The people at Paper Clips are going to hear about this.” He reached out and pushed the lock in again. “Now stay put,” he ordered.

  Almost as if it could hear him talking, the button popped back out in defiance of his will.

  “Son of a—”

  Before he could finish cursing, the top drawer suddenly flew straight open, hitting him in the chest like a freight train and sending him falling onto his back.

  Gasping for air and clutching his chest, he watched in utter frustration as every single folder and paper came flying out of the drawer and scattered like confetti over the office.

  “No,” he groaned through the pain in his chest. “My work.”

  Soon, the next drawer down flew open, and the papers inside erupted forth. Then the third drawer as well.

  Tanner’s frustration was quickly fading, instead being replaced with the chilling sensation that this was the work of some specter in the room with him, someone he couldn’t see.

  Among the sounds of the
fluttering papers, he thought he could hear the whisper of someone’s voice—but he couldn’t make out what they were saying. He didn’t wait around to listen for them to say it again. Jumping up from the floor, and leaving his jacket and briefcase behind, he dashed down the stairs and out of the old firehouse.

  CHAPTER 1

  * * *

  The Waffle Diner and Eatery was abuzz with its normal array of customers they had during the morning rush—the busiest time of the day—and Sonja was humming happily while she stood in the kitchen cooking.

  The diner owner was in the best mood she’d been in months. The previous week she’d solved a very strange case, involving a haunted farm, with her boyfriend Sheriff Frank Thompson. Because of their encounter with the farm’s ghosts, Frank finally believed in the possible existence of the supernatural. More importantly, he was just a bit more aware of his girlfriend’s sensitivity to paranormal forces.

  While he may not have known the extent of her abilities—being able to see and talk to ghosts, use supernatural items, and have visions of the future—it made Sonja feel good that she no longer had to keep her connection to the spiritual world a secret from him.

  It felt good to finally have him as an ally. It also would make solving any future paranormal mysteries easier for both of them.

  On top of this good news, Sonja also had her friend Maddy staying with her for the week. Maddy was a younger woman, only about twenty, who had acted as the resident psychic on a ghost hunting show a while back. She knew all about Sonja’s supernatural abilities as well.

  The unfortunate death of a mutual friend had brought Maddy to Haunted Falls, but it was still nice to see her again.

  Turning up the dial on the radio, jazz music echoing through the kitchen, Sonja began to dance as she worked. She was making her famous Cinnamon Attack Waffle for one of the diner’s patrons. It was more of a dessert dish, but many people liked it for breakfast as well.

  Pulling the hot waffle out of the iron, packed with little beads of cinnamon sugar on the inside, she quickly scooted down the counter toward the grill—where Vic was cooking about six eggs and twenty strips of bacon.

  “Another Cinnamon Attack Waffle?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

  “People love em’,” she beamed, placing a pat of butter on the grill. Setting the warm waffle on the griddle to absorb the yellow liquid, she let it fry slightly on both sides.

  Vic inhaled deeply. “Those always smell so good. Wish I could have one.”

  “You know what the doctor said.”

  “Yeah, yeah, cut back on the sugary and fatty treats,” he chuckled quietly to himself, wiping his hands on the strained apron around his belly. “You sound like my daughter-in-law sometimes.”

  “She is my best friend,” she admitted. Alison, the co-owner of The Waffle Diner and Eatery, happened to be married to Vic’s son Alex, and subsequently knew of all the small details of helping to keep him healthy.

  Taking the waffle off the grill, Sonja placed it into a dish of cinnamon sugar and flipped it back and forth until every little bit, every crevice, was coated in the sweet delicious goodness. She’d add a scoop of ice cream on top with a drizzle of chocolate syrup to make it perfect.

  “Sonja,” came the excited cry from the doorway as Alison entered the room.

  “Speak of the devil,” the redheaded waffle chef smiled, looking up from what she was doing. “Vic and I were just talking about you.”

  “You won’t believe what is in the newspaper this morning,” the raven-haired woman declared, slapping the morning news down on the counter like she was swatting a fly.

  Sonja realized the distress and anger mixed in the lines of her friend’s face. Something was seriously bothering her.

  “What? What’s wrong?”

  “Read this article about the Firehouse Grill. Ooh, it makes me so mad,” Ally insisted, pointing at the paper.

  Raising a worried eyebrow, Sonja unfolded the daily Haunted Falls Sentinel to reveal the headline. Firehouse Grill Introduces New Line of Waffle Dishes.

  Instantly, Sonja’s jaw dropped wide open. “You’re kidding me. How can they do a line of waffles? They’re not even open for breakfast.”

  “It gets worse.”

  Reading on, she felt her face beginning to grow hot and her eyes wider. “They’re changing their hours?”

  “Yep. They’re going to be opening the same time as us each morning.”

  “The new steak and waffles menu will include a wide variety of delicious dishes for those with a more distinguished breakfast palate,” Sonja read out loud. “The Steak and Egg Waffle, the Grilled Sausage and Bacon Waffle, and the Eggs Benedict on a Waffle are just a few of the new offerings.”

  “I told you,” Ally replied.

  “The Benedict Waffle is one of our specialty dishes. They’re straight up stealing our recipes,” she shouted a bit too loudly.

  “Read what Shakeman had to say.”

  Sonja lifted the paper again and scanned for the quote from the Firehouse Grill’s owner. “We’ve wanted to expand to the breakfast crowd for some time, Tanner Shakeman said to reporters. We believe it’s time that we offered quality food choices for all three meals of the day to the distinguished citizens of Haunted Falls.” Sonja couldn’t help but stare at the text, her anger only growing. “Quality food choices? Is he saying we don’t serve quality food here?”

  “I think that’s exactly what he’s saying,” Ally snapped.

  Sonja realized she was crumpling the paper between her hands, tearing bits of the edges. “That’s it. If he wants to play it that way, then fine. It takes two to tango.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  Tossing the paper, now thoroughly destroyed, into the trash bin, she faced her friend with a wicked smile. “First of all, we give him a taste of his own medicine.” She pursed her lips for a second, turning her eyes upward while she brainstormed. “How about, The Prime Steak Waffle?”

  “Good idea,” Alison’s eyes lit up.

  “A perfect cut of marbled steak, marinated for twenty-four hours in a delicious mixture of olive oil, lemon, garlic, chipotle, chili, and black pepper. We fry the steak in a waffle iron. Then we serve it on top of a waffle.”

  “Brilliant,” Alison agreed.

  “It’s a start, at least,” she asserted to her friend, quickly grabbing a napkin and using a pen from her apron pocket to scribble down the idea. “Secondly, we need to boycott the Firehouse Grill. Neither we nor our families will eat there anymore. If all goes well, our most loyal customers will follow our example.” She proudly placed her hands on her hips.

  “What about Frank?” Ally asked, a sense of hesitation in her voice.

  Sonja blinked, a little confused. “What do you mean? What about Frank?”

  Alison nervously folded her hands behind her back. “Well, didn’t you promise to take him out to a steak dinner tonight?”

  Sonja’s eyes widened as she realized her mistake. “I did,” she gasped. After Frank’s rude paranormal awakening the previous week, thanks to the ghosts of the Hinkley Farmhouse, she’d promised to take him out to a steak dinner at the Firehouse Grill—sort of her way of saying thanks for finally believing in her, and saying sorry for all the spooky things that had happened.

  How could she tell him the date was off?

  “Well, I’ll just have to tell him he’s out of luck,” she insisted.

  “Who’s out of luck?” Frank asked, leaning in the service window and smiling warmly at his girlfriend. He was wearing his usual tan sheriff’s uniform that made him look so handsome.

  Looking at his happy glowing face, Sonja knew she wouldn’t be able to tell him the truth.

  CHAPTER 2

  * * *

  “Frank,” Sonja squeaked in surprise, not sure what she was going to say yet.

  “Who are you girls talking about? Me?” he joked.

  “Yes, as a matter of fact,” Alison chimed in.

  Sonja tilted her head, giving
her friend an angry stare.

  Ally shot back a look that said, just bear with me.

  “Wait, how am I out of luck exactly?” he asked, his smile slightly fading.

  “Sonja forgot to tell you,” Ally shrugged, “she promised to help me out by babysitting Cynthia tonight.”

  “Tonight?” Frank cocked one eyebrow. “What about our date? Well, sort of date. I know Maddy was supposed to come with us as well.”

  “Yeah, I totally spaced it until just now. I’m really sorry,” Sonja replied, going along with her friend’s lie,

  “I understand.” His shoulders slumped, his smile completely gone. “But we can go a different night this week, right?”

  Both women looked at each other nervously, not sure what to say next.

  “Or,” Frank continued, holding up one finger, “does it have to do more with this?” From under his arm, he revealed the day’s newspaper.

  “The newspaper? What’s in the news today?” Sonja asked, trying to look innocent.

  “I think you know, Sonj’,” he retorted, pointing at the trash bin with the crumpled paper laying on top.

  “Oh . . . that,” she groaned, realizing she was caught.

  Frank sighed, smiling sympathetically. “I’m really sorry, Sonj’. It really stinks.”

  “You think so?” she perked up, hoping he’d understand the situation.

  “Of course. Shakeman had no right to do that. It’s totally underhanded.”

  “Then you understand why we can’t go?” she said, smiling at her boyfriend with a sheepish grin.

  “Actually,” he sighed. “I’m still going to hold you to your promise.”

  “What?” both women exclaimed.

  He tapped the picture of the Firehouse Grill on the front page. “I’ve been looking forward to this steak dinner all week. We haven’t had a date in over a month.”