Savory Spring Waffle (The Diner of the Dead Series Book 11) Read online

  Sonja couldn’t help but roll her eyes.

  “We’re putting out an APB for Henry right now,” Frank reassured his girlfriend. “I’m also posting Greg outside your house tonight, just in case he decides to come back.”

  “I’m not counting on it,” Sonja shrugged. While Henry was definitely unstable and didn’t seem like the sharpest crayon in the box, she was sure he wasn’t stupid enough to come back and try to kill her that night. In fact, she wasn’t even one hundred percent sure it was Henry who had thrown the brick.

  Frank, on the other hand, was almost certain it had been Henry—based on the note alone.

  “Of course,” her mother added. “We will all feel much safer with someone outside. Won’t we, honey?”

  Sonja could only manage a shrug. She felt safe enough inside the house with her father in the next room.

  “I’m heading over to Henry’s apartment now to see if he is there,” Frank commented.

  “Sounds good,” Sonja responded.

  “You okay?” Frank asked one last time.

  Sonja nodded and smiled. “Fine, except for my broken window.”

  “Okay, I’ll call as soon as we have any updates.” Leaning in, he kissed her and headed out the door.

  “How can you be so nonchalant about this?” her mother burst. “Someone has threatened your life and all you can do is sit here and nod?”

  “Honey,” Samuel said to his wife, “Why don’t you head upstairs? I’d like to talk to our daughter.”

  “I’m not leaving her side,” the worried mother insisted.

  “Diane, I’ll bring her upstairs in a few minutes. Then we can all go to bed.”

  Sonja’s mother sighed. “Oh, all right.” She stood up, tea in hand. “But don’t be long.”

  “We won’t,” Sonja reassured her mother, not wanting to be forced into a lengthy conversation with her father.

  Once Diane had gone upstairs, Sam took a seat at the table across from his daughter. “So, another murder, huh?”

  Sonja nodded. “Poisoning, this time.”

  “Anything supernatural involved?” he asked, cutting to the chase. Her father was fully aware of Sonja’s supernatural abilities and had similar sensitivities to ghosts as well.

  She could only shrug. “I’m not sure yet, really.”

  “How’s that?”

  “Well, the other night I had another dream.”

  “In the woods?” he asked. They’d talked about her recurring nightmares before. Whenever they took place in the woods, there seemed to be something supernatural afoot.

  “Yep.”

  “And what happened?”

  Sonja proceeded to explain the dream as well as the coincidence of Cass carrying a book on the history of witchcraft the next day.

  “The image on the front of the book looked almost exactly like my dream.”

  “I see,” he nodded, scratching his scruffy face. “What does it all have to do with the murder case?”

  Sonja shrugged. “So far, nothing. It seems almost completely unrelated.”

  “It seems unlikely, but it’s possible. Perhaps it was just a premonition that another murder was about to happen.”

  “I thought that as well,” Sonja admitted, leaning in and taking a sip from her tea. “But why the all witch imagery? Why the burning at the stake?”

  Her father shook his head. “I have no idea.”

  Sonja had lost her desire to drink the tea. “Maybe Henry is possessed? Maybe there is the ghost of a witch involved somehow?”

  Her father went a little pale. “Let’s hope not, sweetie.”

  Sonja had dealt with one witch’s ghost before, and it was a truly unpleasant experience, to say the least. However, something about her father’s reaction was a little off-putting. He seemed honestly frightened.

  He cleared his throat and stood up. “We should get to bed.”

  “Wait, Dad. Is there something wrong?”

  He sighed, clearly not wanting to share what was on his mind. “A witch’s ghost is a dangerous thing.”

  “I know that,” Sonja admitted.

  “But, the older a witch’s spirit is, the more power she has.”

  “And the more dangerous she becomes,” Sonja finished the thought.

  “Let’s pray it isn’t a witch returning from the grave or we may well be in over our heads.”

  Sonja hoped her father was right and that the dream was nothing more than a premonition of Bertha’s murder—nothing more, nothing less.

  Unfortunately, her gut told her otherwise.

  CHAPTER 12

  * * *

  The interruption of the brick through the window had only delayed Sonja’s personal investigation of the murder case slightly.

  The amateur sleuth knew she had to get back into the garden somehow and have a closer look at the plant behind the booth in person, just to make double sure that it was, in fact, the same one she’d seen online. Unfortunately, the entire garden was still cordoned off as a crime scene for the time being. Frank’s second deputy, Danny, would likely be guarding the scene so no one came in and tampered with evidence. It was also a likely place that Henry would return to if he really was the murderer.

  On top of that, Greg, the deputy sitting outside in the cruiser, would hardly be okay with Sonja leaving in the middle of the night after receiving a threat.

  Luckily, Sonja had an idea of how she could check things out and not get caught. A few months earlier, on her birthday, Frank had bought her a necklace from a mysterious antique shop. Little had he known at the time, but the clear stone at the end of the necklace was actually a spiritually powered object.

  When Sonja put it on, she was transported temporarily outside of her own body—sort of like astral projection.

  The only scary thing about the necklace was that any ghosts you ran into could potentially attack you. Any wounds you took while projecting would appear on your real body. Sonja had learned that the hard way after a knife-wielding spirit attacked her.

  However, in this case, she felt pretty safe using the necklace.

  Laying down on the bed in the guest room, which had once been her childhood room, she closed her eyes and gently placed the necklace over her head. Almost as soon as she had it on, she felt herself leaving the physical confines of her body.

  A strange swirling tunnel of darkness drew her in like a tornado and once she reached the light on the other side, she looked down and saw her own body on the bed below her.

  “It worked,” she whispered.

  * * *

  In a matter of minutes, Sonja found herself floating just outside the community garden. Just as she had assumed, the light in the front part of the cottage was on and the deputy was seated inside.

  The small-town police department only had two cruisers, so that meant the three men had to share. So, Danny sat inside the cottage instead of in a police cruiser outside.

  Sonja easily floated by without a sound and into the garden.

  While she knew she could float through the plants and pots without disturbing a thing, she moved along the paths anyway, almost out of habit alone. As she neared the booth she felt her curiosity only growing inside of her.

  Coming around to the other side—and not floating through—the ghostly detective spotted the little plant. Sure as sure could be, it was the same plant. Digitalis.

  However, the plant seemed significantly smaller than it had earlier that same day. It was dark and hard to see the details, but leaning in Sonja instantly noticed that the plant had been cut down. Someone had taken a part off.

  Had the murderer taken it? It seemed improbable because Alison and Sonja had been both standing there all day long. Maybe the two women had been so engrossed in their work that they hadn’t seen someone sneak up and take the plant.

  Besides that, there was still something that seriously bothered her. Henry seemed sort of like a small-time crook at best. Even if he had wanted to kill someone, did he have enough knowledge abou
t plants to pick this and use it to poison Bertha?

  Sonja just didn’t know for sure. The only logical answer to that question would be if he was possessed by the ghost of a witch. A witch would definitely have the knowledge of plants to kill someone.

  She shuddered at the thought.

  Sonja had seen enough for that night and floated away from the plant. As she passed the cottage, she noticed a strange glow coming from inside. It wasn’t coming from the kitchen, where the deputy was stationed, it was from one of the back rooms.

  Who was back there?

  Unable to stop her curiosity, Sonja floated through the window and into the house.

  Upon seeing the hunched glowing figure, Sonja gasped.

  A blue, translucent spirit knelt before a strange looking altar covered in a black cloth, candles, and pentagrams—a witch’s altar. Did that mean Bertha had been a witch? Had she summoned the ghost of an ancient witch herself?

  Sonja watched as the specter stood up from the altar, still facing away from her.

  “Bertha?” Sonja whispered. “Is that you?”

  Slowly, the spirit turned around to face the diner owner. Sonja screamed.

  CHAPTER 13

  * * *

  She didn’t mean to scream, but she couldn’t help it. The skeletal face that was hidden under the matted hair, had surprised her. The sunken hollows for eyes, glowing with eldritch light, certainly didn’t help.

  “Burn the witch,” the ghost whispered. “Burn witch, burn witch, burn witch.”

  “What does that mean?” Sonja pressed. “Bertha, what does that mean?”

  The specter raised a bony finger and pointed at the altar.

  Following the direction of the ghost, Sonja noticed a manila envelope sitting there.

  “What is that?” she wondered out loud, reaching down to grab it. Forgetting that she was only a projection of herself, her hand went through the envelope. How was she supposed to look at it if she couldn’t grab it?

  The ghost simply stared at her with its sickening eyes.

  “Is it something Henry gave you? Something that proves he’s the murderer?”

  The ghost simply shook its head “no” and then began to float backward.

  “Wait,” Sonja cried. “Where are you going?”

  But the ghost faded into the darkness of the corner, disappearing into the ether.

  * * *

  Sonja was sitting at the breakfast table eating a whole-wheat waffle, fresh out of the iron, with a pat of butter and some homemade raspberry preserves (simple, but perfect) when the phone call came in.

  “Hello?” her mother answered a little too eagerly.

  “Oh, Sheriff, thank heaven you called, what’s going on?”

  She paused, looking a little miffed at whatever Frank had to say. “You want Sonja? Okay, okay. But can you tell me what’s happening first? Have you caught him yet?”

  Frank’s muffled voice indicated he wanted to talk to his girlfriend first.

  “Well, you can tell me and I can tell Sonja,” her mother insisted.

  “Mom,” Sonja scolded, standing up and taking the phone from her.

  “Can’t a mother be concerned?” she argued.

  “Hello?” Sonja answered.

  “Hi, Sonj’,” Frank replied.

  “Sorry about Mom.”

  “No problem. She had every right to be concerned. She just wants answers is all.”

  “Why didn’t you give them?”

  “I just wanted to tell you first, since you were the one who received the threats.”

  “Makes sense,” Sonja nodded, stealing a glance at her mother who appeared she just might fall over from stress if she didn’t get some answers soon.

  “We brought in Henry Haboth this morning, and I’m charging him with the murder of Bertha Hamson.”

  “You are?” Sonja exclaimed a little too loudly. After last night’s encounter with Bertha’s ghost, she wasn’t so sure Henry was the killer after all.

  “That’s right. We have a witness who places him at the scene of the crime.”

  “Me.”

  “That’s right. He is fully admitting to slashing the tire on the car and to throwing the brick through your window. Said he was drunk when he did it. That, along with his motive from yesterday morning, is enough to hold him for now.”

  “Is he confessing to the murder?”

  There was a pause. “No. Not yet.”

  “I see,” Sonja muttered into the phone.

  “Aren’t you happy? We caught the murderer.”

  “I’m glad you have Henry,” she admitted, dropping her voice down to a whisper so her mother couldn’t hear, “but I’m not so sure he’s the murderer.”

  “You’re not?” Frank blurted out. “Are you kidding me? Who else could it be? We don’t have any other leads.”

  “I don’t know,” Sonja admitted. “Something just doesn’t feel right, like there is more to all of this than I first thought.”

  Sonja could almost hear her boyfriend shaking his head. “For right now, I’m holding Henry.”

  “Alright,” Sonja agreed. “I’ll give you call later.”

  “Sounds fine.”

  They said goodbye and Sonja hung up, feeling more conflicted than before. Something was bothering her about this case. The ghost from the night before had pointed at that envelope. There had to be something important in there.

  Also, the altar itself was interesting. Was Bertha a witch, and what kind of magic was she doing?

  Finally, who was the real murderer? Was Henry fulfilling the deeds at the command of some evil spirit, or was the killer someone else completely?

  CHAPTER 14

  * * *

  There were only three people in Haunted Falls who knew about Sonja’s supernatural ability to speak with ghosts. The first was Sonja’s own father, Samuel Reed. Sam was the whole reason Sonja even had the power she did—she had inherited it from him.

  The second person was an old friend of the family, Panelope. Pan was sort of a traditional mystic (similar to the trinket wearing, crystal ball seeing, neon sign gypsies you saw in movies). Pan could read people’s feelings through their auras and could see Sonja had great spiritual power just by looking at her.

  Third and final, was Sonja’s own local friend Belinda Smith. She was the richest woman in town based on inheritance alone but was also the humblest. While Sonja’s father had the experience with the supernatural, Belinda had the knowledge. She volunteered nearly full time at the local library and oversaw the occult section of books in the basement.

  Sonja believed that while some people were born with supernatural powers, others learned it. Belinda was just one such person. She too could communicate with the dead, but it didn’t seem to come naturally. She’d had to study for many years to get to that point.

  Unfortunately, her obsession with ghosts and death started at a young age, which made her a target for bullying as a child, and eventually, she became somewhat of a social outcast in the community as an adult.

  Sonja was one of her few friends, but the young diner owner took great happiness in the friendship. Whenever she had trouble with a murder case she was working on, and especially if there were potentially supernatural elements involved, Sonja turned to Belinda.

  Driving into the parking lot next to the library, an old cathedral style church building that had been donated to the city many years prior, Sonja got out and walked up the stone steps to the side entrance.

  It was Monday morning, the day after the murder, and Sonja didn’t feel she was any closer to an answer.

  She’d considered asking her father for advice about what she’d seen in the gardens but had decided she needed Belinda’s expertise more than her father’s know-how.

  Walking into the library, she headed straight for the circular front desk of the building where she almost always could find her friend.

  Sure enough, sitting hunched over some large and dusty looking tome was the Belinda. Her hair
was straight as straw and black as night. Today she wore a long black dress with little classy skulls printed on the fabric.

  “Morning,” she greeted the woman.

  “Sonja,” Belinda beamed. “I haven’t seen you in here for a while. What can I do for you today?” she smirked knowingly. “Need some help with a ghost?”

  Sonja nodded in agreement. “As a matter of fact, yes.”

  “Well, why don’t we find a more private spot to talk.”

  Leading the way, Belinda showed Sonja to the staff room and gave her a cup of coffee.

  “Thanks.” Sonja took the cup and drank from it, letting the dark liquid run down her throat and energize her body.

  Belinda cozied up across from her at the table. “Okay, shoot.”

  “First of all,” Sonja began, “I was wondering about that book you gave to Cass recently.”

  “The history book?”

  “About witchcraft,” she clarified.

  “What about it?”

  Sonja proceeded to describe her nightmare and its uncanny resemblance to the cover of the book.

  “While it does seem odd, I’d say that’s more of a coincidence than anything else.”

  “That’s what I kept telling myself, too. I just couldn’t see how it connected to everything else that’s been happening.”

  “You mean the murder?”

  “You know about that?”

  “Not any of the details, but it’s a small town.”

  Sonja proceeded to fill in Belinda on all the dirty little details of the homicide case—Henry, the poison, the flowers, everything.

  “Anyway,” Sonja explained, “I wasn’t sure my dream was connected to the murder until last night.”

  “What happened last night?” Belinda asked eagerly, leaning forward. She really ate up anything about the supernatural.

  “Well, I used the stone necklace Frank gave me to project myself into the garden cottage. While I was in there, I saw Bertha’s ghost.”

  Belinda squeaked excitedly at the story and waved a hand for Sonja to continue.