TABLE OF CONTENTS
SAVORY SPRING WAFFLE
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
Savory
Spring
Waffle
Book Eleven
in
The Diner of the Dead Series
By
Carolyn Q. Hunter
Copyright 2017 Summer Prescott Books
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SAVORY SPRING
WAFFLE
Book Eleven in The Diner of the Dead Series
PROLOGUE
* * *
Sonja Reed was dreaming again, she already knew that much. Whenever she randomly found herself wandering through the rainy mountain woods near her hometown of Haunted Falls—without any memory of how she’d come to be there—she knew it must be a dream.
At first, when these nightmares started happening she’d try any way to wake herself up. She tried pinching herself, screaming at herself, anything she thought may help her come out of the strange world.
However, over the past months, she had learned to face these dreams head on. Sonja learned that she had inherent supernatural abilities. More specifically, she could see and speak to ghosts.
She knew now, more than ever, that these nightmares were rarely random. Instead, she’d become aware that this just one way that the supernatural world communicated with her.
On this particular occasion, she was surprised to see the normal overshadowing gloom of gray clouds and rain disperse from the sky above her. The treetops waved in a fresh spring breeze, almost as if they were brushing away the clouds like brooms on dust.
“Well, that’s different,” she commented quietly to herself. Usually, these nightmares were filled with cold winds, rain, or even snow—all of which was followed by some horrific vision or premonition of things to come.
Unfortunately, before she could really enjoy the warmth of the sun, the sky turned suddenly dark—almost as if night had fallen at an accelerated rate.
The familiar chill hung in the air, and the young night wind pushed upon Sonja’s back. Following its lead, she wandered through the trees and toward a strange light. It wasn’t the sun coming back up, and it didn’t appear to be electric.
No, by its orangish glow, which flickered off the nearby tree branches, it looked like a fire.
Rushing faster toward the light, she prayed that the trees weren’t ablaze. Colorado forest fires could be devastating, wiping out entire homes, buildings, and towns. Additionally, it had been a drier season which meant that any fire had a danger of becoming very large, very quickly.
Reaching the clearing where the light was coming from, she let out a sigh of relief. Nothing was on fire except the torch held by a singular robed figure.
“You scared me,” Sonja admitted, stepping forward. Her assumption was that this figure might be the ghost who had decided to invade her dreams this time.
The spirit—featureless and sexless—stood in the all-consuming black robe, but never turned to look at the young dreamer. The archaic wooden torch in its hand blazed bright, shining on the clearing, illuminating the shadowy details of a pyre before them.
Sonja hadn’t noticed it at first, but a tall pole with wood stacked in a cone shape around it seemed to be the highlight of the area.
Stepping up next to the ghostly figure, Sonja nodded toward it. “What’s that for?”
Raising one arm, the cloaked spirit waved its hand.
Glancing up, Sonja gasped as the figure of a person appeared on the pyre, tied to the pole. They similarly were dressed in a black robe that obscured their features. They struggled against the haggard looking hemp ropes, quiet pleas of mercy echoed from the hidden mouth.
“Wait,” Sonja argued. “What is this?”
Without another moment of hesitation, the torchbearer lowered the flame to the wood. Instantly, the pyre took the spark and burst into a roaring blaze, engulfing the person tied there.
A woman’s screams filled the air.
* * *
Sitting up in bed, Sonja gasped for air. Just as she had suspected, it had been another one of her nightmares. After taking a moment to catch her breath, she leaned over and turned on the bedside lamp and pulled her dream journal close.
Since she’d realized that her dreams were often communications from ghosts—and could even occasionally hint at future events—she had gotten in the habit of writing them down.
This dream, however, was one of the most puzzling she’d ever had, and she struggled to figure out its meaning as she filled her journal.
CHAPTER 1
* * *
“The boys are supposed to meet us there,” Alison noted, taking the last box, containing pastel colored Easter decorations, from Sonja and loading it into the back of The Waffle Diner and Eatery’s catering van.
“I know,” Sonja, remarked with a smile. “You’ve only been talking about today’s party non-stop for a week.”
Ally’s face reddened slightly as she smiled. “Sorry, I’m just excited.” Closing the back doors on the van, she walked around and got into the passenger side door. Sonja followed suit, sliding into the driver’s seat.
“I mean,” Ally continued, “this is the first time since high school that you and I will be going on a double date. I’ve been dreaming about this since you and Frank started going steady.”
Sonja couldn’t help but quietly laugh at her best
friend. “And the first double date since you’ve been married,” she added. It made her happy to see Ally this excited. Between work at the diner and her baby girl, she hardly seemed to get out much. While the two women were technically catering the Easter Garden Party in town, it was still a perfect chance for them and their significant others to have a double date.
Sonja and Alison would cook and serve food during the first part of the party, and then spend the second half with Frank and Alex.
“But seriously, Sonj’, it’s about time you and Frank started hanging out with other people.”
“Hey,” Sonja shot back. “We hang out with other people.”
“Hanging out with his deputies during murder investigations doesn’t count.”
The red headed diner owner couldn’t help but laugh. It was true. She and her boyfriend, Sheriff Frank Thompson, often found themselves swept up in strange and mysterious murder cases.
Frank had the police knowledge and expertise for these cases and Sonja, unknown to her boyfriend, had the supernatural sense to assist in the investigation. Heck, on occasion she was able to even communicate with the murder victim themselves, but Frank just assumed Sonja had an excellent intuition and attention for detail.
He was always diligent about not breaking police procedure, treating her like any other civilian, but he hardly passed up the opportunity to get his girlfriend’s two cents worth on a case.
Thinking about her supernatural ability reminded her of the dream from the previous night. It didn’t make a whole lot of sense, and the only thing she was able to take away from it was maybe another murder was about to occur in Haunted Falls.
A shiver ran down her spine.
She knew she should be more worried about figuring out who was going to potentially die, but she also knew fretting over it was ultimately a waste of time. Usually, these premonitions and warnings from the supernatural realm came true whether she liked it or not.
Not being able to do anything to stop a crime was sometimes more harrowing than the crime itself.
Shaking off the prickling sensation, she tried to concentrate on the day before her. It was Easter, after all, and she wanted this garden party—and the double date—to go as smoothly as possible.
* * *
Pulling up just outside the community garden, Sonja parked the van and got out. “We’ve only got an hour before people start showing up, so let’s get as much done as possible before that.”
Alison nodded, opening the back of the van and pulling out the first box. Sonja followed her lead, grabbing the box with the electric waffle irons in it and heading for the small cottage home that marked the entrance to the garden.
Both women stopped in their tracks when they heard a loud, angry voice coming from inside the cottage. “I told you,” a man shouted, the irritation in his tone carrying through the open cottage window. “you could be in charge of the entire garden center. It would be basically the same thing you’re doing now.”
“And I told you,” a woman’s voice responded—and who Sonja recognized as Bertha Hamson, the owner of the community garden. “I am not interested.”
Glancing at Sonja with a pained look, Alison mouthed “Bad timing?”
Sonja nodded indicating they should take a step back from the cottage, but also trying to remain in earshot of the argument.
“Come on, Bertha. This is a great opportunity. You’d make a bank load of money and still be able to do your herbal garden remedies.”
“No, I wouldn’t. I would be regulated and controlled and eventually forced out.”
“I promise it wouldn’t be like that. I could talk to the district manager about making a special exception for your specialty.”
“No,” the woman insisted. “I will not sell out this garden to some box store with only its personal agenda for money as its goal.”
“Bertha!”
“I’m sorry, Henry. The answer is no. How many times do I have to say it?”
There was a distinct pause, and the air became so quiet that Sonja could almost hear the man seething inside, his breath drawn in anger.
“Fine, have it your way. You are the most stubborn woman I’ve ever met in my life.”
“Simply because I have standards?” Bertha shot back.
“You’re going to regret this,” he snapped. “I swear you’ll regret it.”
“I doubt that.”
The stomping of feet indicated someone was coming to the front of the cottage, and the small arched green door swung open with a bang, revealing a short red headed man. His face was so flushed that it almost matched the color on top of his head.
Upon seeing the two diner owner’s standing outside with boxes, he went a little pale. Smoothing out his plaid dress shirt and tie, he stood up straight. “Sonja, Alison.” He nodded at them.
“Morning, Henry,” Ally muttered awkwardly.
With that, Henry walked heavily past the two women and got into his small silver car and slammed the door, speeding off back toward downtown Haunted Falls.
“What was that about?” Alison wondered aloud.
CHAPTER 2
* * *
“Good morning, Bertha,” Sonja greeted the older woman as they stepped into the tiny cottage. Bertha’s quaint little home also acted as the main office for the community garden. Bertha Hamson, an older woman with her blondish gray hair pulled up into a tight bun atop her head, sat at the table in the small kitchen area with a steaming cup of tea in her hand. She was the type of woman you never saw without her mug.
The land where the garden was located belonged to her, but she had offered it as a spot for a community garden many years prior.
“Oh, girls!” she exclaimed. “You’re early.”
Setting the box on the floor, since the table was filled to the brim with potted plants ready for resell or herb harvest, Sonja straightened up and smiled. “Well, we wanted to make sure we had enough time to set up the food before the party began.”
“Ah,” Bertha nodded. “I see.” Standing up, she grabbed the kettle. “Do either of you girls want some tea?”
“No thank you,” Sonja added, “we really should get to work.”
“Oh, you can always work and drink tea at the same time,” Bertha noted, pouring two mugs full of hot water. “Peppermint for you, Sonja, and licorice for Alison.”
“Thank you,” Sonja replied, realizing they were getting tea whether they liked it or not.
Bertha was not only the owner of the land where the community garden was housed but was also a self-certified herbalist of sorts. She made and sold an assortment of herbal teas, balms, creams, and other remedies for the residents of Haunted Falls. Her specialty was in picking just the right product—especially teas—for people.
“So, what was Henry doing here?” Sonja asked, curious as to what the argument had been all about.
Alison’s eyes widened painfully, clearly appalled that her friend would ask such a question.
“Oh, you saw him coming out?” Bertha asked.
Sonja nodded.
“Then I suppose you overheard us arguing as well.”
The two diner owners glanced at each other nervously.
“Well, don’t worry your heads about it,” Bertha insisted. “Henry was just trying to pitch his latest business idea to me. You know how he is.”
The woman both nodded. Henry Haboth was Haunted Falls resident entrepreneur. Unfortunately, he wasn’t very good at any of the business endeavors he took on, and could always be found starting some new project every few months.
“What was it this time?” Sonja inquired.
Bertha tisk-tisked, and shook her head. “He was trying to convince me to sell my land, the beautiful community garden I’ve set up for this town, to the Freshly Fit corporation.”
“That chain of organic grocery stores?”
“That’s the one,” she confirmed, turning and grabbing jars of herbs off the shelf. The shelves on top of the cabinets as well as much of th
e counter space were taken up with similar jars of various dried plants—most of which Sonja didn’t recognize. “Henry has invested some money in becoming a local owner of one of the chain’s locations. Unfortunately, he can’t make it really pay off unless they build a store here in town—and they want this spot.” She pointed out toward the large parcel of land that made up the garden. “If they don’t build one here, he’ll have to move to a different town.”
Sonja nodded. “I can see why he would be upset.”
“Well, he should have thought of all of that before he blindly bought into another dead end business idea.”
“I’d have to agree with you there,” Ally added her two cents. “I remember a few years back when my dad was still alive and he tried to buy his way into the diner business.” She shook her head. “He had a similar reaction when we told him no.”
“I don’t think he understands the meaning of the word no,” Bertha replied. “It’s a miracle that man isn’t completely destitute.” After filling two metal loose leaf tea filters, Bertha dropped them into the mugs and turned around with a smile. “Well, enough about Henry. While those steep, let's show you where to set up for the Spring Garden Party.”
“You mean the Easter Garden Party?” Ally chimed in, correcting her.
“Of course,” Bertha smiled. “The Easter party.”
“Sounds good,” Sonja commented.
“This way.” Following the garden owner out of the cottage, they walked among the rows of flowers, green shoots, and other plants toward a rustic looking wooden booth where they would be serving the famous waffles that had made the diner so popular.
Stepping around the booth, which looked like it should be on the set of a nineteen-fifties movie about the state fair, the two women set the boxes down.
“This will be lovely,” Alison noted.
Savory Spring Waffle (The Diner of the Dead Series Book 11) Page 1
