Red Velvet Waffle (The Diner of the Dead Series Book 15)

by Carolyn Q. Hunter

  “Check,” he announced again, handing it to her. She poured in the sugar and began to whip the contents.

  “Now, a little milk and vanilla.”

  He grabbed the ingredients and held them up for her to take.

  She measured out a small amount of the vanilla and then poured in the milk. She whipped by hand, mixing the ingredients into a soft, frothy topping. Grabbing the red food dye, she added a few drops, stirring until it too had the same dark complexion as the batter.

  “There, now pull out the waffle.”

  Opening the iron, Frank used a fork to move the dark red waffle to a plate. Sonja then scooped out the wet frosting and spread it over the waffle, letting it melt slightly into the crevices.

  Frank inhaled deeply as if he were breathing in the most heavenly scent on earth.

  “The almonds,” she noted, pointing at the bag. He handed them to her and she sprinkled the slivers over the frosting. “One last thing,” she commented, moving toward the fridge and pulling out a cookie sheet with little black lumps on it.

  “What are those?”

  “Dark chocolate covered raspberries,” she announced. Taking them off the pan one by one, she arranged them in a circle around the waffle. “It’s done.”

  Frank rubbed his hands together eagerly. “I can’t wait to try this one.”

  “Let’s head out to the dining room. I have to unlock the front door and turn on the sign anyway.”

  Carrying the plate out, Sonja nodded toward the corner. “Your usual booth, I assume?”

  “Preferably,” he agreed.

  Suddenly, a loud knocking noise made Sonja jump, nearly letting the plate drop from her hands. Luckily, Frank was right there and steadied the dish before it could fall to its untimely doom.

  “That was close,” he noted.

  “What was that?” she asked, setting the plate on the table in the booth.

  “Sounded like someone was impatient to get in for breakfast,” he laughed, taking a seat.

  “I better get that door open, then,” she wiped her hands on her apron and turned away from the booth.

  “Also, can you grab me a fork?”

  “Sure thing,” she nodded. “Just give me a second.”

  The knocking came again, louder and more frantic this time. Sonja couldn’t help but think it sounded less like an impatient customer and more like someone who was in desperate need of help.

  Grabbing a fork from the tray on the counter and tossing it to Frank, she went toward the front door. Through the glass pane, she could see Benjamin Simon standing there, his hand in a tight fist as he knocked. His eyes were dark with bags underneath them, but the rest of his face looked sick and pale.

  It was almost as if he hadn’t slept in days.

  Running forward, she turned the deadbolt and opened the door. Benjamin rushed into the room.

  “Ben? Is something wrong?”

  “Sonja,” he gasped as if he were trying to catch his breath.

  “What’s happening? Did you run all the way here?”

  Frank instinctively stood up from the table and walked over, “what is it?”

  “I’m not sure. Benjamin hasn’t said yet.”

  “Take a deep breath,” Frank instructed, “what’s going on?”

  “I need your help, Sonja,” he finally managed to say.

  “My help?” she shrugged. “With what?”

  “Someone is trying to kill me.”

  CHAPTER 3

  * * *

  “Trying to kill you?” she blurted out, glancing at Frank knowingly. It looked like their moment of peace had come to another abrupt end, yet again.

  “Who is trying to kill you?” Frank asked, easily slipping into police mode, his professional demeanor taking over the fun loving man who had spent the morning cooking with his girlfriend.

  “I-I don’t know,” he admitted. “I just heard them say they were going to kill me,” he started shaking and leaned on the counter for support.

  “Come on,” Sonja said, putting his arm over her shoulder and leading him back to Frank’s booth. “Let’s sit you down.”

  Frank jumped in and helped; moving him there and sliding him onto the seat.

  “Do you need anything?” she asked. “Coffee? Something to eat?”

  “S-something to eat,” he acknowledged with a nod.

  Sonja glanced over at Frank who sighed disappointedly and pushed the newly cooked waffle toward Benjamin. Sonja handed him the fork and the pale man dug into the plate like he hadn’t eaten in days.

  “I’ll get you some coffee, too,” she offered, walking toward the kitchen. Seconds later she emerged with a fresh cup, just poured from the morning’s first pot she’d already started. “Here you go,” she offered him.

  “Thanks,” he muttered.

  Sonja raised an eyebrow at Frank, asking for his help. Something was seriously wrong here. Benjamin was young, close to the same age as them, and he’d never acted like he was frightened of anything. He’d always been strong, confident, and ready to face the world.

  So, what was happening now to cause him to act this way?

  “This is good,” he complimented Sonja while he ate and drank, a little color returning to his cheeks.

  “Now,” Frank said, folding his hands on the table, “tell me more about this threat. You have no idea who it is?”

  He shook his head. “No. I couldn’t see them.”

  “But you could hear them?” Sonja asked.

  “How was the threat delivered, then? Was it an audio tape? A computer file?”

  He shook his head, straightening up slightly, some of the fear seemingly melting away. “No, nothing like that.”

  “Did they yell it at you from outside your window?”

  “No, they were in my bedroom with me.”

  “And you didn’t see them?” Frank asserted. “Were they wearing a mask?”

  “I couldn’t see them.”

  “Were they hiding in the closet or something?” he felt like he was grasping at straws.

  “They were right next to me, right near my face.”

  “Then how could you have not seen them?” Frank held out both hands palms up, waiting for a clearer explanation.

  Benjamin looked directly in Sonja’s eye as if she should know the answer. “It was a ghost,” he told her.

  Sonja instantly felt a chill run down her spine. Multiple people had been murdered out at the Hinkley Farm, including a young man back in the town’s early days, a TV show host, and Samuel Hinkley’s own nephew.

  Frank paused, his mouth hanging open ever so slightly. Clearing his throat, he shifted in his seat. “A ghost?”

  Benjamin nodded. “I know it was. It’s been knocking on my door on random nights as if it wanted in.”

  “Maybe he really does need that coffee,” Frank mumbled quietly.

  Sonja hit her boyfriend lightly on the shoulder.

  “I’m not drunk, Sheriff. When have you ever seen me take a drink?”

  “He’s right, Frank.” Sonja defended the man, slipping into the booth next to her boyfriend. “Maybe you should tell us the whole story, from the beginning.”

  Benjamin started in by explaining the occasional knocking on the front door over the past months, how he’d dismissed it at first, but became more disturbed the longer it went on. “When I’d go and open it, no one was there.”

  “Sounds like a prankster to me,” Frank reassured him.

  “That’s what I thought at first too,” he admitted. He continued with the details of the past week and told them how the knocking had suddenly become more frequent, happening almost every night. This led into his description of the night before. “There was no one there,” he shivered, sweat droplets appearing along his forehead, “but I could feel their breath, and they spoke to me.”

  “And they said they’d kill you?” Frank asked.

  “That’s exactly what they said.”

  “I understand,” he nodded, “I say it sou
nds like someone is playing an elaborate prank on you.”

  “It’s not a prank,” Benjamin snapped, putting his hands on the table.

  “Hey, hey, calm down,” the sheriff instructed. “I wasn’t trying to upset you.”

  “I know what I felt and I know what I heard,” Benjamin insisted adamantly.

  “I believe you,” Frank admitted truthfully. “I just don’t believe it was a ghost,” he shrugged. “You of all people, having worked behind the scenes on The Spook Show, should know that ghosts don’t exist.”

  Sonja felt a twinge of irritation at her boyfriend. His blatant disregard for the existence of ghosts bothered her. The topic had never come up before, but she’d always assumed he’d be a little more open and understanding about this subject. If this was how he reacted to Ben, how would he react if his own girlfriend told him she saw ghosts nearly every day? Would he have her locked up in the looney bin?

  “If it makes you feel better,” Frank continued, “one of the deputies or I will visit the farm and have a look around later today.”

  “No,” Benjamin boomed. “That won’t do any good.”

  “We could even stay overnight,” the officer offered, “just in case the prankster tries to come back.”

  “No,” he snapped, “that isn’t what I want.”

  “Then why did you come tell me about this?” Frank asked, “if you didn’t want me to do anything?”

  “I didn’t come here to tell you.” Benjamin turned his gaze on the diner owner. “I wanted you to come out and stay the night, Sonja, in my farmhouse.”

  CHAPTER 4

  * * *

  “Me?” Sonja gasped.

  Frank’s mouthed dropped wide open. “No, absolutely not,” he shook his head. “That is highly inappropriate.”

  “Wait,” Sonja interrupted her boyfriend before he could go on a tirade. “Why me?”

  “Because you’re sensitive to ghosts,” Benjamin pointed out.

  Instantly, she felt her stomach do a flip-flop. Frank looked at her with one raised eyebrow of confusion. The diner owner nervously grabbed a hold of one of the napkins from the caddy and scrunched it up between her palms.

  “Sensitive to ghosts?” Frank pressed. “Why in the world would you think that? Sonja doesn’t even believe in ghosts,” he spoke for her.

  This made Sonja downright angry and she began to tear the napkin in her hands into little pieces. How would he know what she believed? Did he just assume that because she was level-headed and down-to-earth that she automatically didn’t believe in ghosts? Heck, they’d never even talked about it.

  “Maddy told me,” Benjamin told her. “I called her this morning to see if she had any suggestions for my situation. She told me that you had a stronger supernatural sensitivity than she did, and since you were already here in Haunted Falls, I should come to you for help.”

  There was a small and awkward pause in the conversation preceding Frank’s sudden explosion into hysterical laughter. “Seriously?” he gasped between laughs. “You trusted her opinion? The TV paranormal investigator who claimed she could speak to ghosts?” his laughs continued.

  Maddy, also known as “The Mystic” had been a popular figure in the paranormal investigation TV program, The Spook Show. She was also a friend of Sonja’s ever since the TV crew had come to Haunted Falls to investigate hauntings at the farmhouse.

  “Benjamin, you should know better,” Frank reiterated.

  At this, Sonja stood up from the table. “I’ll do it.”

  Instantly, Frank’s laughter died into silence. “What?”

  “I said, I’ll do it,” she proclaimed defiantly.

  “Sonja, you can’t be serious.”

  “I’m dead serious,” she shot back.

  Frank paused, looking his girlfriend in the eye, trying to see if she was playing a joke on him. When he realized she wasn’t, he stood up. “Can I talk to you for a moment?”

  “Fine.”

  Leading her away, he nodded at Benjamin. “Excuse us.” Once they were out of earshot, he looked at her with squinted, angry eyes. “What are you thinking?”

  “I’m thinking that a friend needs help, and if it will make him feel better, I’ll stay there for one night.”

  “But, Sonja,” he argued. “He might just be doing this to have some alone time with you.”

  Sonja’s irritation with Frank only increased with this latest comment. For a very short time, Sonja had been romantically interested in Benjamin and had even considered dating him. However, none of that happened because she ended up dating Frank instead—whom she loved.

  At the moment, however, she didn’t much like her boyfriend.

  “You’re jealous?”

  “Of course not,” he defended himself. “I’m just saying—”

  “You’re just saying you don’t trust Benjamin? You think he’ll make a pass at me?”

  “Why else would he ask you to stay the night?”

  “For the reason he said,” she reminded him.

  “But you aren’t some ghost whisperer,” he insisted. “You’re a normal, everyday woman.”

  Sonja pursed her lips, folding her arms. “How would you know?”

  “Come on,” he shrugged, “what logical, self-respecting person actually believes in ghosts?”

  “I do,” she snapped.

  At this, Frank’s mouth just hung open, like he was blown away by this new information. “You can’t be serious, Sonj’.”

  “I am.”

  “You’re one of the most logical, analytical, and intuitive woman I’ve ever met. How can you seriously say that you believe ghosts are real?”

  She put up one hand, her palm to Frank’s face telling him to shut up. “This conversation is over,” she informed him. “Enjoy your day off by yourself.”

  He watched her walk back to the booth and pat Benjamin comfortingly on the shoulder. “I’ll be there tonight,” she told him and then disappeared into the kitchen.

  Huffing angrily, Frank stomped out of the diner, still wearing the apron as he went.

  * * *

  After Frank stormed out of the diner, the day seemed to crawl by. While Sonja felt bad about the argument, she mostly felt angry. It would take her some time before she could bring herself to talk to Frank again, let alone forgive him.

  He had basically insulted her on two levels. First of all, he showed that he didn’t trust her to be loyal to him. Second, he had made fun of the idea of her belief in ghosts—which was an integral part of who she was.

  She didn’t make another red velvet waffle either, feeling that the recipe had been tainted by the argument.

  Two hours later, well into the morning rush, Benjamin was still sitting at the table in the corner. He was on his fifth cup of coffee; his wide eyes and jittery fingers were a testament to the effect of caffeine on his body.

  Sonja tried to keep an eye on him while she went about her work, cooking up waffles and other dishes for the customers.

  She began to notice people pointing at him and whispering. What were they talking about? Were they wondering why he looked so sullen and pale or was it something else?

  Sonja’s questions were answered when the door swung open and Corrie Bennett, a local party planner, and event coordinator came walking in, swaying her hips like she owned the place. She wore a professional gray dress, with a belt, and a little chain necklace with a diamond on it.

  Corrie was a well-known gossip and enjoyed finding negative things to say about people.

  Sonja could hardly stand people like that and was in no mood to deal with her antics that morning. Unfortunately, the diner often did business with Corrie thanks to the fact that they catered events around Haunted Falls.

  She braced herself for the woman’s most recent barrage of questions, wondering what new party or event she’d want them to cater next.

  However, to Sonja’s surprise, Corrie didn’t walk over to the kitchen at all. Instead, she headed to the corner booth where Benjami
n sat and slid in across from him. “Hard times, doll?” she asked, reaching out and patting his hand condescendingly.

  “What is she up to?” Sonja muttered.

  “You say something?” Vic, the grill cook asked.

  “Nothing,” she replied. “I’m taking a quick break.”

  “Okay, hurry back,” he told her. “These orders won’t fill themselves.”

  Sneaking out the swinging kitchen door, she eased down the counter closer to the booth where Benjamin and Corrie sat.

  “What do you want, Corrie?” Benjamin asked, his face turning into a scowl of disinterest.

  “I just wanted to make sure you were feeling okay,” she paused a moment, shrugging innocently. “I heard about your little problem out on the farm.”

  “What problem?” he snapped.

  “Why the haunting, of course,” she shook her head and clicked her tongue. “It’s all over town.”

  Sonja felt her teeth grind together. If everyone in town was talking about it, it probably meant that Frank had said something. Thanks to him, news about Benjamin’s ghostly experience would be making the rounds.

  Everyone would think he was nuts.

  “The haunting?” Benjamin moaned, realizing he was about to become the laughing stock of the community.

  Corrie nodded, making a fake face of understanding.

  Sonja repressed an angry growl, not wanting to be heard.

  “Now, if you’re wanting to re-think my offer—”

  “I’m not,” he interrupted her. “I’ve already told you, I’m not interested in selling the farm.”

  Sell the farm? Why did Corrie want to buy it?

  “But, what with the hauntings, I’d think you were maybe second guessing?”

  “You thought wrong,” he told her with a straight face, his already grim features only growing darker. “Now, if you don’t mind, this is my table.”

  “Fine, fine,” she said, standing up. “If you change your mind, you know where to find me.” Walking off with the same cocky sway, she spotted Sonja behind the counter and smiled at her.

  “Corrie,” Sonja smiled painfully, realizing she was caught.