Thanksgiving Waffle Murder (Wicked Waffle Paranormal Cozies Book 3) Page 8

  “But, now that you know, I can’t let you tell anyone,” he threatened, his grip tightening.

  “You don’t have to do this. Think about Belinda.”

  “This is beyond Belinda or the Smith family, now, Ms. Sonja.” He looked around himself, examining the snowy night with wild eyes. “How about the drop off here? It seems good enough.” He pulled her, while she struggled the whole way, to the edge of the road that overlooked the steep drop off.

  Sonja got a good look over the edge and felt her heart jump like a rabbit inside of her chest.

  Just as she thought it was all over, and that she was about to be thrown to her doom, there was a strange shout. The next thing she knew, Gram had gone over the edge, disappearing into the snowy trees below with a sickening crunch.

  Confused about what had just happened, she glanced up to see Agatha, all blue and beautiful, her hair riding the wind, standing next to her. She had a wide smile on her face as she stared over the edge of the cliff.

  CHAPTER 17

  * * *

  “You won’t believe what we found when we went to retrieve Gram’s body,” Frank told Sonja as they stood together in the cottage kitchen. She was bent over the counter fanning off her famous Pumpkin Pie Waffle she’d just pulled out of the oven. It had a thin waffle crust, pumpkin pie filling and the pumpkin drizzle caramelized on top.

  “Are you sure you should be telling me?” she retorted, still feeling a little irritated about the argument from the day before. He’d been following her around all day while everyone was rushing about getting ready for a proper Thanksgiving “redo.” It seemed he knew she was mad at him and that he was trying to win her affections back.

  At the moment, everyone else was either watching a football game in the living room near a warm fire or helping to set the table.

  Frank and Sonja were alone in the kitchen, and she was working her very hardest to remain mad at him. His cute smile and warm greetings were making it difficult.

  “Come on, Sonja. Don’t be like that.”

  “Well, you’re the one who said I had to stay out of police business. I don’t want to get in trouble again.”

  Groaning, Frank rolled his head back and folded his arms. Leaning on the counter, he looked her in the eye. “I’m sorry for freaking out yesterday, but you have to admit that I’m right.”

  Sonja couldn’t argue with him there. She still hadn’t appreciated the way he’d made a scene so loud that everyone could hear.

  “I’ll tell you anyway.”

  “Of course,” she whispered. When it was something he wanted to share, or when he wanted help with a murder investigation, it was all a-okay.

  “There was an old skeleton down there. It was right under Gram’s body.”

  This comment completely broke her concentration. “What?”

  “Yep. The coroner thinks it’s probably pretty old, maybe even turn of the century. We’re still trying to figure out who the guy was.”

  Sonja’s jaw dropped. She had a pretty good idea about who the guy was, but didn’t know how to tell Frank that. Her guess was that it was the footman who’d never been found. Perhaps the maid’s ghost had pushed him over, too, sending him to his death.

  Maybe she wanted him found once and for all so she could be at peace and the best way to do that was kill the very person who was reenacting the same crimes.

  “Anyway, interesting stuff, huh?”

  “No kidding,” she admitted.

  “You haven’t had any . . . you know . . . spiritual encounters, have you? I mean, maybe you could give us a hint as to who the guy was.”

  Picking up the pie, she looked up at him with a smile. “Nope. Nothing at all.” It was time for family and celebration. The last thing she wanted today was to talk about murder and ghosts.

  “Look, Sonj’,” he stopped her from heading out to the dining room.

  “What is it now, Frank?”

  “I really am sorry about yesterday. I guess, I was just really looking forward to Thanksgiving with you and our families. Then, when that whole murder happened, I just got irritable. It ruined the whole day.”

  “Did you have to yell at me like that?” she asked, finally breaking her act of ignoring his advances.

  “It was uncalled for. I should have been more tactful about the whole situation.”

  “Yes, you should have,” she agreed.

  Moving close, he hugged her from behind so as to not disturb the pie, and she let him. His bulging pockets, just like the day before, were apparent. What the devil did he have buried in there?

  “So, do you forgive me?” he whispered.

  Sonja couldn’t help but smile. “Frank, I’m crazy about you. I love you more than anyone could know. Of course, I forgive you.”

  “Good. That’ll make dinner easier,” he smirked, pulling away from the hug. “Shall we?”

  The two headed out and set the pie down with all the rest of the food that was already sitting ready for serving. “Time for dinner,” Frank called, gathering everyone up around the table.

  Once everyone was situated and in their seats, Frank stood up and tapped a fork against his mug of spiced apple cider—one of Sonja’s recipes. “Everyone, before we dig into this delicious meal that so many of you have worked so hard to bring together, despite all the chaos of today and yesterday, I’d just like to say a few things.”

  “A speech, son? Really?” Franky teased.

  Frank smiled, but rolled his eyes. “I just want to express my gratitude for you all. For you, Mom and Pop, for raising me and giving me all the love a boy could want.”

  “Aw, Frank. We love you, too,” his mother beamed.

  “And, I especially wanted to say how thankful I am for Sonja.”

  Sonja felt herself begin to blush a little. She never much cared for being put on the spot.

  “Even though I’m not a perfect man, and I make my share of mistakes and slip-ups, she still loves me and puts up with me. Yesterday, I made a fool of myself in a place where all of you could hear. That was uncalled for, and I apologize. However, I’m hoping to make that up to all of you,” he paused, turning toward Sonja with the strangest smile she’d ever seen cross her boyfriend’s face, “and to you Sonja.”

  Setting down his mug of cider, he pushed his chair back. Digging into his bulky pocket, he pulled out a little black box and got down on one knee.

  There were squeals of delight and gasps from all around the room—particularly from the mothers.

  Sonja, meanwhile, had gone from flushed, to beet red. For a second, she thought she might just pass out. However, she managed to keep it together.

  “Sonja Reed, I’m madly in love with you—curiosity, nosiness, and all. Will you do me the honor of marrying me?” Opening the box, he showed her the pretty little white gold ring with a pink sparkling stone in the middle.

  Sliding out of her own chair and down onto her own knees, she embraced him and kissed him deeply. “Frank Thompson, I’d love to marry you.”