Spooky Sweetheart Waffle: Book 9 in The Diner of the Dead Series Page 7

  “How is she?” Sonja asked for the first time since she arrived.

  “She’s going to be fine,” the nurse noted. “She had a minor cut that only needed a butterfly bandage and she has a slight concussion. We’re keeping her here overnight for observation, but by tomorrow morning she’ll be ready to run out the gate again.”

  The nurse’s words sparked something in Sonja’s mind. “Mom, was the gate closed when you and dad arrived at the manor tonight.”

  Taking a moment to think, Diane nodded. “It was. We had to hit the button for them to let us in.”

  “It was closed when we left, too,” Alison added.

  It was true. Sonja remembered having to trip the motion sensor to drive out.

  “Why, dear?” her mother asked.

  “It may be important to help catch the killer.”

  * * *

  “So, what about the gate is important?” Sonja’s father asked as they left the single floor hospital and walked out into the parking lot.

  “Anyone who went in or out of the Smith Manor had to be someone the security guard knew was coming,” Sonja remarked, pulling out her keys to open the van door. “So, it was either a member of the house’s staff or someone who was working at the party.”

  “Like Johnny?”

  “Exactly,” she replied, unlocking the van and getting inside.

  “But wouldn’t you have seen his car parked out back?”

  Sonja paused, thinking this over. “Most likely. That pink color would have been hard to miss.”

  “And we saw him driving up to the manor after the murder had already taken place.”

  “Maybe you’re right,” Sonja mumbled. “But I don’t want to count him out just yet. The main problem is I don’t have any plausible motive for him to be a murderer. What possible reason could he have for wanting to kill people from that pageant?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Darn,” she whispered.

  “Were there any cars around when you came back to the manor tonight?”

  Sonja’s eyes widened. “Yes!” she exclaimed. “A strange man was sitting in a beater car and smoking a cigarette when we arrived.” She paused, going over the details of the memory in her mind. “The car was running.”

  “A getaway car?” her father asked.

  “Maybe.” Putting the car into drive, she pulled out of the hospital parking lot. “It would help out if I knew how to find the car or the driver.” She sighed. “That would make things a lot easier. My only other option is going back to the library and trying to find something in those old newspapers again.”

  “That could also lead to more dead ends,” her father noted.

  They drove in silence for a minute, headed through historic downtown toward the library when suddenly, Sonja’s father snapped his fingers. “I’ve got it,” he exclaimed.

  “What?”

  “I think I have an idea how we might find your driver.”

  CHAPTER 15

  * * *

  Sitting in the front room of her mother’s house, Sonja waited for the app to download to her smartphone. According to her father, this phone app was something he had used multiple times over the past few years while he was moving from place to place. Supposedly, people signed up as either drivers or riders. As a rider, you could post times and places that you wanted or needed a ride. As a driver, you’d get notifications that someone in your area needed a ride at a specific time.

  It was sort of like a “ride board” you’d find in a dormitory at a college, only online.

  Samuel’s assertion was that perhaps the man driving the rusted car was listed on the phone app as a driver.

  “Dad, we have no way of knowing this guy is even on this app.”

  “Hey,” he defended himself, walking across the room. “You can’t know unless you try.”

  Her phone beeped, indicating that it had finished downloading the app. “Okay.” She hit the icon on her phone screen and opened it. Creating a quick account, she signed into her current location.

  “This thing says there’s only two drivers total in all of Haunted Falls,” she remarked. “Now I’m really beginning to doubt that we’re going to find him on here.”

  “Or,” Samuel pointed one finger in the air, “it increases our chances of finding him. Don’t you see?” he exclaimed. “It’s a fifty-fifty chance.”

  “I doubt that.”

  “Okay, maybe not, but it’s at least one place to look. After this we can try asking around to see if anyone else has seen the car. We could even ask your boyfriend if he’s ever pulled over a car fitting that description.”

  “And why would he tell us? Isn’t it against police policy to give out information like that?”

  “I’m giving suggestions, is all. The app is just one of them.” He shrugged. “Besides, it’s better than driving around town trying to spot the car we’re looking for, right?

  “All right, Dad, but if this doesn’t work, we’re heading to the library and doing some old-fashioned legwork.”

  “Okay, okay,” he conceded.

  Hitting a few buttons on the phone, she sent out a post saying she needed a ride within the next ten minutes. “There, it’s sent.”

  “Okay,” he smiled, rubbing his hands together eagerly. “Let’s see if anyone responds.”

  To Sonja it seemed apparent that this wasn’t her father’s first time doing something like this. If he really did have the same powers as her, maybe he had helped in investigating murder cases throughout his own life.

  “I’m surprised you never became a private detective or something,” she noted.

  “I considered it, but claiming that I got information or clues from a ghost doesn’t really go over well in that profession.”

  “I suppose that makes sense.” Sonja’s phone dinged. “Whoa, that was fast.”

  “I told you.”

  “My ride was accepted by a local driver. Peter Donahue.”

  “Does he have a picture of himself?”

  Sonja tapped on the link to the driver’s profile. “He does.”

  Samuel stepped eagerly over to her side. “Well?”

  Examining the tiny, grainy image on her phone, she tried to make it out. “Well, I guess it could be him, but I can’t be sure with a picture this small. Also, I didn’t get a good look at him in the car either.”

  “Oh, gosh,” Samuel groaned.

  “What?”

  “He only has a one-star rating. He must be a terrible driver.”

  “Great,” Sonja muttered. “And I’m stuck riding with him.”

  “Well, we can just wait for him to show up,” he replied, walking over to the window, “and at least see if it’s the guy first.”

  CHAPTER 16

  * * *

  Within a matter of five minutes, the headlight beams of a car illuminated the room. The hollow rattling noise of the engine instantly sent a shiver down Sonja’s spine.

  “He’s here,” her father announced, peeking through the curtain to look out.

  “So?” she inquired, standing up.

  Pulling his head back in, he smiled. “You’d better have a look yourself.”

  Standing up, she walked over to the window and pulled the curtain aside. Sure enough, there was the same rusted clunker of a German car sitting out front, the same one from the manor.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” she muttered.

  * * *

  Stepping outside into the falling snow of the evening, Sonja felt a little nervous. That same guy she saw earlier sat in the front seat, a cigarette hanging out of the corner of his mouth.

  She thought of something Frank had told her before during a previous murder investigation. “Don’t do anything without telling me first,” he had warned. That had even been before they were dating, and even back then he had tried to protect her.

  This was the first murder investigation ever that she didn’t consult at least once with him.

  While she had her doubt
s about this driver being the murderer, she knew that there might still be an element danger involved.

  However, having her father there, added an extra sense of comfort she hadn’t had in many years.

  Swallowing hard, she opened the passenger side door. “Hi,” she greeted him, getting into the dark vehicle. “How are you?”

  “You’re supposed to sit in the back,” the guy snapped, never once removing the cigarette from his mouth or even looking her direction.

  “The back?”

  “Yeah,” he reiterated, jabbing his finger toward the back seat.

  “S-Sorry,” she stuttered, getting out and moving into the backseat. The whole car smelled like tobacco, and the seats felt like they hadn’t been vacuumed in years.

  Her father walked around the car and sat in the back seat as well.

  “Two of you?” the driver complained. “You’re supposed to mark on the post if there is more than one rider.”

  “You’re getting paid the same amount, buddy,” her father commented, silencing the man.

  Sonja raised an eyebrow at him.

  “What? You thought I wasn’t coming along?”

  “So, where we goin’, lady?” the guy demanded.

  “Uhm, the library,” she replied.

  “The library it is,” he declared, putting the car into drive.

  For a few moments, they drove in silence—except for the sound of the engine rattling. Her father nudged her with his elbow, indicating that she should start asking questions.

  “So,” Sonja said, breaking the ice. “Did you have many rides tonight?”

  Glancing back with an irritated eye, he shrugged his shoulders. “You’re the only one, lady,” he said.

  “He’s lying,” her father mouth silently.

  She tried to think of a way to get him to talk about the manor. “I thought with the dance tonight you’d have a lot of rides,” she tried.

  “What?” he muttered.

  “The Valentine’s Dance? The one at the Smith Manor? It’s supposed to be really swingin’.” She instantly felt stupid for using the word swingin’ in a sentence.

  “I ain’t heard nothing about no dance,” he retorted.

  “Oh, everyone in town was invited. Wouldn’t you want to at least see the Smith Manor? I hear it’s pretty fancy.”

  “What is this? Some kind of interrogation?” he grumbled. “Just let me drive, lady.”

  Sonja cursed inwardly. The subtle approach wasn’t working.

  “Time to start playing hardball,” her father whispered, almost reading his daughter’s mind.

  “So, you don’t want to admit the fact that you had another ride this evening.”

  “Look, lady. I told you. You’ve been my only ride tonight.” Taking the cigarette out of his mouth for a second, he dropped the ashes into the cup holder before putting it back.

  “Is that so?” she replied, folding her arms defiantly. “Then how come I saw your car parked outside the Smith Manor earlier tonight?”

  “You saw somebody else,” he insisted. “Now either zip it or get outta my car.”

  The car pulled up to a red light and stopped.

  “Here, let me give it a try,” her father said.

  Sonja shrugged her shoulders, wondering what he planned to do.

  Leaning forward, he was about to speak when both father and daughter stopped cold. Both of them could see the blue ghost.

  “Daniella,” Sonja whispered.

  She seemed to become somewhat more solid with each passing second, her translucency seemed to almost fade, and she carefully reached out toward the man, touching him on the hand.

  “What the?” the driver pulled away.

  “Something wrong?” Sonja asked, taking the ghost’s help as an initiative to continue the questions.

  “Nothing. Just felt cold all of a sudden.”

  Daniella reached out again, this time touching the man on the cheek.

  This time, the driver practically squealed. “What was that?” the driver shouted, looking all around the car. “Was that one of you two?”

  Sonja shook her head no. “Not us.”

  A third time, the ghost in the passenger seat reached out, this time grabbing the back of the man’s neck. This made the driver scream at the top of his lungs, hurting Sonja’s ears. “What is that? What’s going on?”

  “I know you drove someone else tonight,” Sonja pressed, using the man’s fear to her advantage.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he moaned, clearly nervous.

  “I saw you waiting outside tonight when I pulled up in my van.”

  “Y-your van?” he blubbered.

  She nodded, making sure he could see her in the rearview mirror. “That van is mine. My business partner and I both saw you sitting there waiting for someone to come out.”

  “No way, lady. No way. It wasn’t me.”

  Sonja watched as Daniella reached out and brushed the driver’s face again.

  “Argh, okay, okay,” he shuddered. “It was me, okay. You’re right, but the lady paid me a big tip to keep quiet about the whole thing.”

  Sonja paused, taking what he’d just said in. “Wait. You mean to tell me your passenger earlier was a woman?” She exchanged confused looks with her father.

  “Y-Yeah. Some woman. She told me she didn’t want anyone to know that she was at the manor.”

  “Who? Who was it?”

  “I can’t say,” he moaned.

  “Tell me,” she snapped, all the frustration, anger, and fear she’d bottled up about her father’s murder bubbling forth.

  “H-Her name was Sarah Fitzgerald.”

  CHAPTER 17

  * * *

  “Sarah Fitzgerald?”

  “That’s what she said her name was,” the driver moaned.

  “The sister of Daniella Fitzgerald?” Sonja asked, looking at her father who nodded in reply.

  “I have no idea,” the driver protested, thinking the question was directed toward him.

  “How did you get through the gate at the manor?” Sonja asked.

  “I just told them I had a drop off some last-minute supplies for the party.”

  * * *

  “Why did no one realize Borja Brightstar was Sarah? Didn’t she and Daniella both live here?” Sonja insisted as they arrived back at her mother’s house. The driver had quickly dropped her off and then sped off into the night, most likely hoping to never see her again

  “No,” her father corrected. “Almost all of the pageant participants were from out of town. It was a region wide contest.”

  “So, Sarah could have gone off and started a new life?”

  “Definitely. Besides she was probably sixteen or seventeen at the time. If any of us knew her better or saw her more often, we might have recognized her now that’s she’s older, but none of us interacted with her since she wasn’t part of the pageant. Just Daniella was.”

  “We have to find Johnny. I think he might be next on our killer's hit list.”

  “You think that’s the case?”

  “Sarah is killing anyone who was closest to her sister right before she died,” she explained while she unlocked the van and hopped in. “She’s taken out two of the pageant judges.”

  “But why?” her dad pressed.

  She thought over whatever reasoning may exist for the delay in the murders.

  “Maybe Sarah was too young at the time to murder someone?”

  “No, that’s never stopped someone from committing murder before. It doesn’t seem plausible.”

  Turning on the van, Sonja began to pull out of the driveway.

  “I still don’t understand what her motive for the killings is,” her dad inquired. “Did she blame all three of them for not doing something more to help?”

  “Maybe,” Sonja remarked, pushing the gas to get to the local hotel as soon as possible. “But I feel like there’s something more to it.”

  “Something supernatural,” he realized
.

  “Exactly. One of Belinda’s ritualistic knives was used in the first two killings. On top of that, the bedroom had a yellow pentagram painted on the floor. I just can’t see that as coincidence.”

  “I couldn’t agree more, but it still doesn’t explain a motive.”

  Suddenly, Sonja snapped her fingers. “I know why.”

  “Why?”

  “Sarah thought there was nothing she could do to bring her sister back after the disappearance. She thought she had lost her for good. Maybe she even believed that her sister had run off like the papers said.”

  “Maybe.”

  “It was only revealed recently that Daniella was actually murdered. Then, the police arrested Belinda because of the rune knife. Maybe the knife is a cursed object and Sarah only just learned about it. Maybe it has some sort of power that allows her to communicate with her sister. I recently dealt with a cursed black stone which required blood sacrifices to empower it. Maybe this knife is the same.”

  “That may very well explain things,” he agreed.

  “Let’s just hope we get there in time.”

  * * *

  Luckily, the roads were fairly empty of traffic as they made their way toward the hotel. Sonja’s best guess was that Johnny was staying there. Just for backup, and to respect her boyfriend’s wishes, she made an emergency phone call to Frank, insisting he meet her at the hotel as soon as possible.

  Based on previous experience during murder investigations, Sonja was sure he would show.

  Finally, coming to the parking lot of the hotel, Sonja haphazardly parked and ran for the entrance.

  Once inside, she walked up to the front desk. “Which room is Johnny Wales in?”

  “Johnny Wales?” the receptionist confirmed.

  “Yes.”

  “Is he expecting you?”

  “Yes,” she lied. “I’m the caterer from the Valentine’s Dance tonight. I have to compare my color palate to his.”

  “Very well.” It took all but thirty seconds for him to pull up the name on the computer, but it seemed like far too long to Sonja. “Room two zero three, ma’am,” the young man behind the counter informed her. “Would you like me to call ahead?”