BUCKAROO WAFFLE MURDER (The Wicked Waffle Series Book 5)

by Carolyn Q. Hunter

  It was always uncomfortable when she had to talk about the supernatural world, and her ability to sense it, with Frank. He was just so uncomfortable with the whole thing still, even after having known about it over a year.

  “The thought had crossed my mind,” he admitted reluctantly as if he hadn’t implied it himself.

  “I’m not sure what I could tell you, if anything.”

  “There is only one thing I need to know,” he said flatly, pushing his face close to Sonja’s and whispered as if he were afraid someone was listening. It was possible someone was.

  “What?”

  “Could the ghost you saw be involved in this murder somehow?”

  Shaking her head, she grabbed Frank’s hand. “There is no way for me to know that, not without communicating with him.”

  Frank grunted in displeasure. If there was one thing he hated more than Sonja’s ability, it was her reaching out and speaking to the other side.

  “Look, I know you don’t like it, but if you want answers. . .”

  “Know what? Forget it,” he insisted, standing up.

  “Forget it? You’re the one who came in here to talk about it.”

  “And now I’m saying forget it. With you, there are spooks around every corner.”

  Hunching over, Sonja showed her displeasure with his comment in a furrowed brow. This was not the first time they were having this conversation. “Frank, we’re engaged to be married.”

  “I know that. What does that have to do with anything?”

  “Everything,” she snapped, also standing.

  “How so?” he asked, despite already knowing the answer.

  “A lifetime living with me also means a lifetime of ghosts and premonitions. I attract entities from the other side, that’s just a fact of life.”

  Frank looked down at his feet.

  “It isn’t going away anytime soon, probably never. If you want to call off the engagement, that’s fine, but if you want to keep this going, you’re going to have to get comfortable with every single part of me—including my clairvoyance.”

  Her fiancé’s jaw tightened as he clenched his teeth. “I know, Sonj’. I don’t want to call anything off.”

  Sonja leaned down slightly to investigate his averted eyes, just to make sure he meant it. When she saw that he did, she smiled. “Good.” Taking a seat back on the bed, she patted the spot next to her. “Now that that’s out of the way, we can talk ghosts.”

  Frank quickly obeyed.

  “If this ghost is connected to the murder in any way, it’s because he has some sort of investment with Vaughn. A lot of the time these spirits will be attached to an item or place. The ghost could be trapped on this train, or is following some antique being transported here. Heck, it could be even as simple as something the victim was carrying.”

  As the words left her mouth, the breath caught in her throat.

  A small snippet of a memory returned, something from earlier that morning. Frank and Vaughn had been talking when the museum owner had patted his pocket.

  “Wait a minute, Frank. What was in Vaughn’s pocket?”

  Frank paled slightly, showing that he knew more than he was letting on. Most likely, he was saving that information for the local police force.

  His reluctance didn’t deter her in her train of thought. Ideas and clues were formulating in her mind like seeds growing at an accelerated rate.

  “I just had a thought. Nathan got on the train because he was scared of the museum.”

  “That’s what he said, yes.”

  “What if that was a cover for his real intentions?”

  Frank raised an eyebrow, but Sonja knew he may have already thought of this. “According to you, Nathan was only interested in getting money from his brother, at least as the history of a few years ago presents.”

  “That’s right. He sold a few antiques off to make extra cash.”

  “Right.”

  “But, maybe he came back this time to atone for his mistakes?” Frank was giving Nathan the benefit of the doubt, but Sonja wasn’t sure he deserved it.

  “What if that isn’t true? What if he really came back for money?”

  “He could have boarded the train to rob the passenger’s bags while we were all in the dining car,” Frank pointed out. “That would explain why he was hiding out in this room. He just never got around to doing it because the murder cut things short.”

  “But why go to the risk of getting caught? Being on the train increased his chances of being seen. In fact, it could have been just as easy to steal some of the antiques from the museum proper while all of us were on the train. He could have easily been long gone by now. So, why get on the train?”

  Frank shrugged, playing dumb.

  “There was a bigger payoff here. That’s what brings me back to Vaughn. What was in his pocket?”

  Sighing, Frank realized he was caught. Clasping his hands, he nodded. “Vaughn asked me to come out here to be with him when he found it.”

  “Found what?” Sonja asked.

  “The prospector’s treasure. Vaughn recently acquired an authentic map that led to an old mine and some gold. He wanted me, as a lawman, to be there when he found it, so he could make sure it was all good and legal. If for some reason the gold belonged to the U.S. government, if it was buried on government-owned land, he wanted it to be all well and good.”

  Sonja nodded in realization. “That’s why Robert was so upset. He didn’t want you to be here, to be in the way of him striking it rich.”

  “And Nathan could have very well caught wind of what his brother was doing and came down here to join in on the fun.”

  That was two very big suspects to look at. “And the prospector is likely the ghost of the man who originally found the gold.”

  Frank tilted his head. “You’re the ghost expert.”

  “I’m going to say that’s probably the reason he’s here. Maybe he doesn’t want that gold found.” Sonja drummed her fingers on her knees as she considered what action should be taken next. “Where is the map now?” she asked. “Is it still on Vaughn?”

  Frank shook his head. “After everyone was off the dining car, that was the first thing I checked. The map was gone. Somewhere in all the commotion between him getting shot and everyone being moved to the museum car, someone stole the treasure map.”

  CHAPTER 11

  * * *

  “That’s it,” Sonja insisted, standing up with her arms stiff at her sides.

  “What is?” Frank asked, watching the excitement seemingly surge through his fiancé’s body.

  “That’s how we figure out who the killer is. Obviously, whoever knew about the map, took the map. Therefore, whoever currently has the map is our killer,” she exclaimed, holding out her arms as if making some grand discovery.

  Sighing, Frank tilted his head. “Sonja, I’d already thought of that. In fact, when I noticed the map was gone from his jacket pocket, it was the first thing I had considered.”

  With her hands upright, she looked down at him. “Why didn’t you search everyone right then? Have them all turn out their pockets? I bet the killer also has a copy of the key to that box too.”

  “It’s true. However, this isn’t my investigation or my jurisdiction. You know that already.”

  “But there is a murderer on board,” Sonja argued.

  “And I’m keeping everyone secured and safe until we can turn this whole mess over to the local police. I have no right to go searching through people’s pockets or their compartments here on the train. It would just bristle feathers and cause more trouble down the line for the investigation.”

  Sonja folded her arms and narrowed her gaze. “This doesn’t sound like the Frank I know.”

  “I’m keeping out of it as much as possible. After all, it was my friend who died.”

  “But back when we visited your family for Thanksgiving in two-thousand-sixteen, you were all over that murder case. That wasn’t your jurisdiction either.”


  “And I should have kept my nose out of it, whether or not my family members were suspects. I got emotionally riled up and then got involved.”

  Sighing, Sonja placed her hands on her hips and looked down at her feet. After a moment of breathing quietly, she nodded. “You’re right. We need to stay out of it like you said. I just can’t stand the fact that the murderer is walking around free with that map in hand.”

  “Nothing we can do about it while we’re on this train,” Frank said again, standing up. “I’m going to check on Nathan and Jake. For now, just stay in here until further notice. I’ll advise everyone else to do the same.”

  “And that’s it?”

  “Until tomorrow morning? Yes.” Squeezing past her, and stealing a quick kiss, he opened the door and stepped out. “And if you get any more inklings about the ghost, or you think he’s involved, you let me know.”

  Sonja only rolled her eyes as he shut the door. While she knew he was right, and that they couldn’t go looking through everyone’s things, she couldn’t just sit around and do nothing. Opening the closet, she pulled out her bag and sifted through the front pocket until she retrieved her tarot deck.

  If she couldn’t find the map the normal way, she had another idea of how she might track it down.

  * * *

  There wasn’t much space in the cabin, but by sitting on the floor Sonja thought she might just have enough room to do the card reading to speak to the ghost. She’d only used her tarot cards a couple times before, and only one other time for contacting a ghost.

  She wasn’t confident she could call upon the prospector but knew she had to try. The key to catching a murderer might just lay in his hands.

  Closing her eyes, she began to shuffle the deck. Breathing steadily and slowly through her nose, she waited until it felt like the right moment to stop. A slight feeling of heat welled up in her chest, and she paused, setting the deck down.

  Holding out her hands, palms up, on her knees, she called out. “If there are any spirits on this train, I call upon you now to communicate with me and through me.” With poised fingers, she drew the first card off the top of the deck. It was the Ace of Chalices—a symbol of wealth and monetary gain.

  The treasure map instantly popped into Sonja’s mind. She was on the right track.

  Drawing the next card and setting it face up next to the first, she found herself looking at The Hermit. It was a symbol of searching, guidance, and introspection.

  Sonja was searching for the map, and The Hermit was here to guide here. She was almost positive that the old ghost was The Hermit himself.

  “If you’re here, guide me,” Sonja requested, reaching down and drawing another card.

  Her hand began to tremor as she stared at the picture of Death.

  “Death?” she whispered out loud. What could that mean? Was someone else going to die before she got a chance to find the map?

  Or worse.

  Was she going to die in her pursuit of the map?

  A chill ran down her spine, almost as if a draft from outside the train had touched her back. Turning to face the window, almost as if instinctively checking to see if it was open, her heart leaped into her throat. Her breath froze as if she were choking.

  Staring at her from outside the window, his head upside down, was the prospector.

  His face was haggard, almost as if the skin might just slump off the dry, brittle bones beneath. His smile was a row of ferocious and crooked yellow teeth.

  No matter how many times she encountered the other side, it always chilled her to the bone. Each spirit’s appearance had its own frightening uniqueness to it.

  “C-Can you help me?” she asked in barely a whisper.

  The spirit nodded, his hat flopping in the wind, yet staying on his head as if it were glued there. Using a bony finger, he pointed upward toward the roof of the car.

  It was clear that he wanted to Sonja to follow him.

  CHAPTER 12

  * * *

  Standing up without putting her deck away, Sonja eagerly grabbed the heavy coat that went with her costume and put it on. She knew from experience that following a wandering spirit wasn’t always the brightest or safest course of action, but in this instance, she felt like she had to.

  After all, she’d been the one to call upon the spirit. He was only answering her.

  It was her duty to at least see what he had to show her.

  With a gentle hand, she undid the latch on her door and opened it to look out into the skinny hallway. She didn’t want to be caught sneaking to the outside of the train, especially not by Frank.

  Once she’d checked and re-checked that the coast was clear, she slid out. Tiptoeing down the hall past the other rooms, she opened the door and stepped onto the chilly outdoor platform between cars. The wind hit her like a knife, cutting right through the clothing and into her bones.

  Wrapping her arms around herself, she tried to see if the prospector was anywhere around.

  As if in response to her thought, his head popped down from the overhang.

  “Oh,” she squeaked, not quite expecting his appearance right in front of her.

  Again, he pointed upward toward the roof of the car.

  Finally, Sonja understood. He didn’t just want her to step outside and meet with him, he wanted her to use the ladder on the back of the car to climb up to the top. “You’ve got to be kidding me. The train is moving,” she argued.

  A grunt and an upward point was his only reply before disappearing.

  “This is ridiculous,” she sighed, pulling her gloves on to prepare for the ascent. The train was moving, and the wind was blowing, which would make being on the roof a frightening experience. However, if it meant finding out who had the map, she was willing to give it a try.

  Grabbing the rungs of the ladder, she lifted herself up, taking the icy steps slowly and one at a time. As her head appeared above the train, the wind only increased in intensity. She wondered if they were driving faster than usual to get to the train station sooner.

  “What am I supposed to be seeing up here?” she asked, looking around at the icy roof panels. The wind stung her cheeks and nose.

  In the distance, she saw the prospector materialize out of thin air, still waving her onward. “This is a really bad idea,” she said, shaking her head.

  Glancing down at the white ground below speeding by, she decided it was time to turn back. Yes, she had called upon the ghost, and yes, she had gone out of her way to track down the killer. However, it wasn’t worth falling off a speeding train.

  Starting to climb back down, she froze when she felt an icy hand grip her wrist.

  “What the heck?” Shooting her gaze upward, she saw the prospector standing over her. The steam escaped from his dead lungs rising around his wide eyes that bore holes into Sonja’s soul. His smile was gone and the demanding urgency in his slate-colored face sent a chill down to the tips of her toes.

  In one unnatural move, he lifted her up and tossed her onto the roof of the car with a heavy thud.

  “Oof,” she gasped, all the air rushing out of her lungs, leaving only a painful ache behind. She squeezed her eyes shut until the moment passed and she was able to gulp down a fresh breath of the chilly air.

  Letting her eyelids flutter open, she pushed herself up onto her hands.

  That’s when she paused, seeing something strange just beneath her. “What is that?” she whispered. Letting her sight adjust a little, she realized she was staring at a boot print, frozen into the ice of the roof.

  Instantly, the moment in the dining car earlier when she heard a thud from above came back. It hadn’t been ice or snow falling on them, it had been someone walking across the cars. “So, that’s how the killer got the bullet. While we were all in the dining car, someone snuck out, crossed the roofs, and entered the gun display room without being noticed.”

  The bigger question was, who could it be? Obviously, it hadn’t been any of the guests aboard. It
had to be an employee. Was it possibly Robert cutting across to get the bullet for his own gun? Had Nathan boarded the train via the caboose and made his way across?

  A whistle brought her head up and she saw the prospector in front of her. He was pointing toward the museum car with the guns.

  There was still something else for her to see.

  Rising to a standing position, Sonja held out her arms on either side of herself to keep a balance as she walked toward the prospector. The vibrations from the wheels on the tracks echoed up through her body. “I can do this,” she whispered, stepping forward carefully, with one foot in front of the other.

  It felt like to took almost ten minutes, but she eventually reached the end of the roof.

  The prospector pointed at the museum car.

  “No. No way. I’m not jumping across to the next roof,” she argued with him.

  However, before she could take a step back from the edge, his bony fingers grabbed her wrists and gave her another heave.

  Screaming, she landed on the next roof with a thud.

  Surely someone had heard her that time. Standing back up she followed the prospector as he dashed past her and started to climb down the ladder on the far side in between the museum car and the firewood car.

  Climbing down herself and stepping onto the platform, she let out a sigh of relief to finally be off the roof.

  The prospector was nowhere in sight, but Sonja knew that there was something here close by that she needed to see—and she needed to find it before someone found her standing out there. Glancing around, she looked for anything out of place.

  Had the killer hidden the map somewhere on the firewood car in front of her? It seemed unlikely since he would risk ruining the map itself. No, it would need to be somewhere more protected.

  Turning, she noticed the metal box attached to the museum car, the one that held the clipboard ledger for those people boarding the train—the one Jake had used earlier to check everyone in.

  Flipping the hinged lid, Sonja pulled out the clipboard. It had the names of everyone on board.

  Maybe the names were significant?