Zombie Waffle Murder (A Wicked Waffle Paranormal Cozy Mystery Book 8) Read online

  Ally cocked one eyebrow up. “Is that true? You don’t want to do it anymore?”

  Sonja sighed, cracking eggs into a large silver mixing bowl. “No, I guess not.”

  Alison smirked again, scooping the hash browns off the griddle and onto a plate next to two fried eggs and toast. “Order up,” she called, placing the plate in the window. “I thought that little proud part of yourself wouldn’t let you quit,” she joked.

  Sonja nodded. “Don’t you start in, too. I know I can’t give up the run, but it’s just so hard. My place isn’t out with the other participants, it’s here at the diner serving up cold drinks and waffles at the finish line.” Sonja had happily agreed to let the race finish at her business, knowing that runners and patrons alike would want to come in to eat food and celebrate the event.

  “But, your place is also by your husband now, supporting him. Life is more complicated now that you’re married,” Ally reminded her.

  “I know. I’m doing this as much for Frank as for my own pride.” She made a small fist and bopped it on the counter. “If only I didn’t love that guy so much.”

  “You sure do,” Ally beamed, pulling another order slip off the turnstile. “Speaking of the Zombithon, what are we planning on serving that day?”

  Sonja’s harrowed looking face lightened up for the first time that day, the corner of her mouth twitching up with a smile. If law enforcement and fitness were Frank’s two passions, helping ghosts and creating new and unique breakfast dishes were Sonja’s.

  Any chance she got, she whipped up a new waffle recipe to appeal to the masses.

  This time around, she got the chance to do something a little spooky in honor of the Zombithon. It was like having a taste of Halloween five months early. “Okay, here is what I’m thinking. We’ll be handing out cups of Zombie Brain Juice for free to the runners.”

  “Zombie Brain Juice?” Alison asked, looking disgusted with her nose all wrinkled up and her tongue almost hanging out.

  “Don’t worry. It’s just a mixture of orange, lemon, and lime juice in water. Add salt and sugar and you’ve got your own electrolyte-packed beverage.”

  “But why brain juice?” she asked, still hating the sound of it.

  Sonja reached up to the high shelf above the counter and brought down a little dropper bottle. “Green food coloring, of course,” she laughed.

  “Ew,” Alison noted.

  “Then, we’re going to create a complimentary waffle dish.”

  “The brains themselves?” Ally concluded.

  “How did you know?” she chuckled. “We’ll serve round waffles, but the batter is made with buttermilk, lemon and lime zest, lemon and lime juice, and ricotta.”

  “As in cheese?” Alison asked.

  “Yep. It’ll be like eating a cheese Danish, but in waffle form.”

  “So, what makes it Zombie Brain Waffles?” she asked.

  “I’m going to dye the batter green as well. Then, as a topping, I’m going to make a Zesty red raspberry sauce for the top.” She rubbed her hands together eagerly. “It’ll look like bloody brains with the fruit chunks.”

  “Gross and yummy at the same time,” Allison noted.

  “I know, right?” Sonja said, delighted with herself.

  “Hey, can one of you gals cover me for a second? A new group just sat down, but I need to run to the restroom,” a voice came through the service window. It was one of the teenage waitresses who had signed up to work over the summer break.

  “Sure thing,” Sonja agreed, picking up a fresh pad of order slips and sticking it in her apron pocket.

  “Thanks a million,” the teenager said, rushing off.

  “Be right back,” Sonja told Ally before heading out through the swinging kitchen door into the dining room.

  * * *

  The table of new customers, sitting in the far corner booth where Sonja often ate lunch with Frank, was a group of four people who appeared to be in their twenties.

  Sonja could only deduce that they were two couples sitting for lunch together. Both girls had blonde hair tied up in ponytails and could almost be twins for how similar their facial features were. They had to be related—probably sisters.

  The men, on the other hand, looked quite different from each other. The one had a shiny bald head, most likely shaven by choice than necessity. The other had his black hair in a military buzz cut.

  What stuck out about them the most, however, was the way they were dressed. The girls had on tight fitting runner’s shorts and spandex tops while the men also had on looser fitting shorts and tanks.

  She instantly wondered if they had come into town for the Zombithon.

  Walking over, she stood at the booth. “Morning, folks. My name is Sonja and I’ll be helping you this morning,” she said with her usual customer service smile.

  “Hi,” the taller of the two blonde girls said with a smile that was so white it could blind you.

  Standing this close to them, Sonja couldn’t help feeling a little intimidated by the pure chiseled definition of their physiques. If this was the kind of competition that would be present at the Zombithon, she knew she didn’t stand a chance. She felt weaker just standing near them.

  “I just love this type of place,” the shorter, and presumably younger, of the two women said. Her eyes wandered the restaurant with a childlike wonder. “It feels like I just stepped back in time to the fifties.”

  “Why, thank you,” Sonja accepted the compliment graciously. “I’m actually one of the owners.”

  “Well, this place is awesome,” the girl continued. “I’m Patty, by the way. This is my older sister Ruby,” she waved across the table at the taller girl.

  “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were twins,” Sonja noted.

  “We get that a lot,” Ruby said.

  “And this is my boyfriend, Chandler,” the younger sister said, gripping the muscle ridden bald man next to her. Sonja wondered if he was flexing for effect or if that’s just how he appeared all the time.

  “I’m Kamson, by the way,” the dark-haired man introduced with a nod.

  “I would have gotten to you,” Patty insisted.

  “But I wanted to introduce myself,” he confessed with a smug grin and shrug of his shoulder. His arm draped casually over his girlfriend’s shoulder in an almost possessive manner that made Sonja uncomfortable.

  Except, she knew she shouldn’t judge. After all, didn’t Frank also hang his arm over her like that sometimes? Mostly at home on the couch in front of the television, she realized.

  Brushing it off, she poised her pen for action over the pad. “What can I get you guys?”

  “Is it true that you guys do specialty waffles?” the younger sister asked.

  “That’s right. I try to keep an interesting cycle of new flavors going throughout the year. I especially like making up recipes for special occasions.”

  “You mean like this Zombie Run in the Sun?” Kamson asked, removing his arm from his girlfriend and leaning forward on the table.

  “Yes, the Zombithon.”

  “The Zombithon?” Patty asked.

  “That’s what the locals are calling it. I take it you guys are participating?”

  “Only if there is a specialty waffle connected to it,” Patty joked.

  “Oh, stop pestering the poor woman,” Ruby scolded her with a roll of her eyes.

  Sonja gave a slanted smile. “That’s quite all right. It wouldn’t be a proper diner without a little banter between waitress and guest, right?”

  Patty beamed. “Right.”

  “Anyway, if you guys are interested, I will be serving a special zombie-themed waffle tomorrow right here at the diner along with a special Zombie Brain Juice drink that’ll be free for all runners.”

  “I like free stuff,” Kamson noted.

  “You would,” Ruby said, jabbing him in the ribs with her elbow.

  “Ow, babe. That hurt.”

  “Oh, no it didn’t,” she sho
t back, pulling her purse up onto her lap from the seat and beginning to rifle through it.

  “The race course ends here at the diner,” Sonja continued her spiel, enjoying talking to the group of apparent athletes. Maybe running in this thing wouldn’t be half bad if everyone was as friendly as they were.

  “Sounds like a blast,” Patty said.

  “We were planning on running either way,” Ruby added with a chuckle, pulling a bottle of vitamins out of her purse. Popping off the top, she dumped two into her hand.

  “What are you doing, babe? You don’t need those things.”

  “Sure, I do. It helps keep me in fighting shape. You should try it sometime,” she argued, tossing her head back and dropping the vitamin pills in her mouth. She swallowed them dry without any water.

  “I could have gotten you some water,” Sonja offered.

  Patty shifted in her seat, scooting closer to her stone-like silent boyfriend who’d sat there with a solemn smile on his face the whole conversation. Some people just weren’t much for socializing. “That’s okay. She always takes them like that.”

  “Oh, I see,” Sonja said.

  “Ruby is a vitamin freak, kind of.”

  “A fanatic, really,” Kamson added with a stiff snort of disdain.

  “Hey, taking the right supplements can really boost your body in a competition,” Ruby defended herself.

  “But it’s not a competition. It’s a charity run,” the bald group member broke his silence. A man of few words, it seemed.

  “Whatever. If you wanted that extra edge, you’d swear by them as well,” Ruby said.

  Kamson scowled. “Well, I guess it’s better than taking something else,” he muttered just under his breath but still audible.

  Patty’s smile faltered, and she shifted nervously in her seat. She turned her attention back to Sonja, clearly uncomfortable with something going on in the conversation. “So, we can look forward to seeing you tomorrow at the finish line?” she asked.

  Sonja felt herself blush a little before saying the next thing. “Actually, I’m running as well.”

  At this comment, there was a distinct pause. Sonja could practically feel the heat from her cheeks running into her ears. Were they judging her physique?

  “That should be fun,” Patty finally cut the silence.

  “Yeah, it is only for charity, after all,” Ruby said, trying to stay positive but coming off as rude.

  Sonja strained her jaw muscles to keep her smile on.

  Patty gave her sister a death-glare.

  “What did I say? Anyone can be an athlete, right?” Ruby said, back peddling.

  Giving her order pad another hard tap with the pen, Sonja wanted nothing more than to get out of there and let the regular waitress take back over. “Okay, folks. What can I get you to eat for breakfast this morning?”

  Chapter 3

  “Sonja, it isn’t about competition,” Frank reminded her as they stood near a picnic table in Haunted Fall’s park, stretching out their legs in preparation for the marathon which was about to begin.

  “I know that, but it is to some of these people. They’re practically professionals,” she complained, motioning to the rest of the groups in the green open area.

  Falls Park at the center of town was bustling with runners and spectators alike. Green and yellow streamers were wrapped around light poles and through the trees. Blinking green holiday lights added some more variety to the decorations.

  Additionally, the park had been decked out in fake foam and cardboard gravestones. There was even a rubber zombie hand popping up out of the dirt in one spot.

  The only thing missing, in Sonja’s estimation, was a fog machine to coat the ground in an eerie mist. It looked like Halloween had come early, and Halloween was Sonja’s absolute favorite holiday with Christmas taking a close second place. However, she was having a hard time being excited, seeing as she was about to make a long-distance run.

  The path for the Zombithon went down Main Street past the park and out of town. It then looped around the lake and went through the branching paths of the woods to the cliff behind the falls. Then, the runners came back down and around the other side of the lake until they reached the diner.

  It was a long, long path. Of course, there were rest stops and drink booths along the way, but it didn’t keep the marathon from looking any less daunting.

  To make matters worse, it looked like some true athletes had signed up—people who could very well be participating in professional track events. For one, Patty, Ruby, and their respective boyfriends were lined up at the front already raring to go.

  To make matters worse, their zombie make-up and costumes looked almost professional. Dried up looking face with skin peeling, fake blood underneath, and dirtied tracksuits all made them quite the nightmarish ensemble.

  Most everyone had on some sort zombie themed make-up or clothing. Those who didn’t were encouraged to go over to the free Blood Booth where the local salon and costume shop had teamed up to deck out the runners in gray powdery make-up, fake scabs and scars, and corn-syrupy blood.

  Sonja could already feel the fake blood on her face beginning to itch her skin. Honestly, she felt ridiculous all decked out in zombie makeup. There was nothing attractive about a rotting corpse.

  Frank, however, still managed to look handsome under his layer of gray skin and dripping blood. “This is supposed to be fun, not stressful,” he reminded her for probably the fifth time that morning.

  “I know that,” she grunted, giving her left leg one final stretch before heading over to the starting line.

  Standing near the back of the group of runners, not wanting to have the embarrassment of being passed up right out of the gate, Sonja listened as the event MC welcomed everyone. He went over the runners’ course, reminding everyone of the regular safety protocols. “Remember folks, this is still wild territory. Animals might be out in the woods or at the falls when you get to that part of the race. Also, while there are multiple paths you can choose to take through the woods, keep your eye out for steep ledges and cliffs. We don’t need anyone falling off today. Got it?”

  There were cries of understanding from all the runners.

  “All right then. We’re ready to start,” he shouted excitedly.

  The crowd of spectators applauded.

  A second later, the starting pistol sounded, and they were off in one large mass.

  Sonja had to admit, it did look sort of creepy seeing all these “zombies” running in a pack together. Concentrating on her running, she tried to keep in mind the tips Frank had given her. Don’t run at top speed out of the gate or you’ll wear yourself out. Slow down or take a break if you feel overheated or ill. It’s okay to walk near the end. Do your best.

  She couldn’t help but let her eyes slide to look at him running beside her. While she’d fought it tooth and nail, she was happy to do this, after all. Running as a part of the crowd was an exhilarating feeling.

  Not to mention, she was doing it with Frank.

  He really was a great husband, and not so bad as a coach.

  They’d only gone a little way when he started to pull away from her, something she had suspected would happen. He glanced back at his wife for a second, but she gave him a nod of approval—telling him he could go on ahead.

  Sonja kept her own good pace, and despite the star athletes who were putting her to shame, she was content to go it easy and not hurt herself. While most participants passed her, others kept pace or lagged behind. Many of them were older folks, simply participating to support the fund.

  Sonja chuckled inwardly to herself as she imagined her busybody of a mother or seemingly quiet father running the race. They were both in their sixties, but generally in good health. However, they’d offered to help hand out drinks and waffles at the diner at the end of the race, seeing as Sonja had signed up with Frank.

  Feeling proud of herself for keeping a decent pace, the amateur athlete didn’t start to get winded un
til they hit the trees at the lake’s edge, just outside of downtown.

  Now came the hard part—running around the body of water through the woods and up to the falls. It was the longest stretch of the race and Sonja knew it was going to be one heck of a workout.

  The first water table came into view, and Sonja was surprised to see Patty sitting in a folding chair nearby, holding her ankle. “Patty? What happened?” Sonja called through heavy breaths, glad for the excuse to take a rest. Picking up a cup of water, she downed the liquid.

  It was always amazing how plain water tasted so good when you needed it.

  The blonde young woman bit her lower lip, rubbing her ankle. “I twisted it,” she said, attempting not to cry. “In the first mile, I twisted it.” A tear managed to escape, running down her cheek. With a lightning fast flick of her finger, she brushed it away.

  Sonja looked around the small wooded area. “Where are your friends?”

  “They just up and left me. They didn’t even bother to stop and see if I was okay,” she moaned quietly.

  Sonja scowled unhappily, realizing she was creating wrinkles. She decided it was best not to dwell on Patty’s unsympathetic friends. If they’d seen her twist her ankle and then she told them to keep on going, that would be one thing—but to completely ignore her? That seemed a little unkind.

  She decided to try and be the friend that the others weren’t. “Do you need me to help you back into town?” she asked.

  “I’ve already called the first aid cart,” the gentleman manning the booth commented. “They should be here shortly.”

  “I can wait with you if you want,” Sonja offered, still wanting to help. She realized it was in her nature to want to assist people, and she blamed all the times she’d fallen into helping a ghost with one thing or another.

  For a brief second, she thought of the ghostly flicker she’d seen in the woods. Was it watching them all run the Zombithon?

  “No, you should go on. You probably trained hard for this event.”

  “You’re right. I did. But I can finish it after the cart comes and picks you up,” she noted.