Scary Sausage Waffle (The Diner of the Dead Series Book 13)

by Carolyn Q. Hunter

  Sonja shook her head. “That’s just probably the way he is. I don’t like it anymore than you do, but it hardly makes him a murderer.”

  “Now what?” she asked.

  Sonja stood up, leaving the pile of merchandise on the floor. “I’m going to call the sheriff.”

  * * *

  It took five or six tries to even get the phone to connect and ring through to Frank’s cell phone. After that, the rings sound gargled and chopped up—as if they were a voice trying to speak to her from underwater.

  “Come on, Frank,” she urged, “Pick up the phone.”

  After one final ring, it went to voicemail, a groggy message that hardly sounded like Frank’s voice at all.

  “Frank, it’s Sonja. Ally and I are stranded at the Roadside Gas and Restaurant. A girl has been killed and it looks like murder. Get over here as soon as you can.”

  Before she could even finish speaking, the call had dropped.

  “Any luck?” Brenda asked, bringing over a fresh cup of coffee for Sonja.

  “Not really,” she sighed. “This storm is really doing a number on reception. I tried to leave a message but I’m not sure how much of it the sheriff is going to understand.” She took the mug and drank from it. “It looks like we’re on our own out here, at least until the storm passes.”

  Brenda shivered. “Stranded here with a murderer.”

  “How’s P.J.?” Sonja asked.

  “He’s fine. Out like a light.” Brenda paused a second, swirling the coffee in her mug. “Y-you don’t think P.J. had anything to do with this, do you?”

  “Do you?” Sonja pressed.

  Brenda shook her head adamantly. “Hardly. He’s just an old fart as far as I’m concerned.”

  “Then I’m not worried about him either, not unless some serious evidence came up, pointing to him.”

  “You think that’ll happen?” she gasped.

  “I’m not holding my breath.” Sonja drank in more of the coffee, eyeing her best friend sitting in the corner. She had fallen asleep and was leaning against the wall.

  “So, what’s next?” Brenda took a seat on a stool nearby.

  Sonja swallowed hard, thinking about how to approach the situation without Frank’s assistance. During every investigation, he’d been there to lead things. Being completely alone frightened her a little. “First,” she started, “I think we should move everyone into one room. If that means moving P.J. into the dining area or everyone else into the break room, we should do it. With a killer on the loose, I don’t want to take any chances.”

  “I couldn’t agree more,” she nodded, “Let’s move P.J. It’ll be easier.”

  “Move P.J. where?” came a gruff voice from the hallway. Glancing back, the noticed the old restaurant owner was up and about.

  “Oh, P.J.,” Brenda smiled. “We’re just saying everyone should stick together in the same place until the storm is over.”

  “What for?”

  “For safety,” Sonja nodded. “Also, your wife and I are going to look for some emergency supplies, just in case.”

  “Emergency supplies?” he exclaimed. “This isn’t anything but a little spit.”

  Branda stepped forward and leaned on her husband. “Humor me, dear, won’t you. Stay out here with the other guests for a little while to make sure they're happy.”

  P.J. sighed, “All right, dear.”

  He was clearly too tired to have an argument and stumbled out into the main dining area and took a seat as far away from Ally and Byron as possible.

  “Alright,” Brenda whispered. “Now what?”

  “Now, I think we should lock up every door to the outside and search the building. We have no way of knowing if Harvey is hiding somewhere in here or not.” She paused, thinking the situation over. “And no way of knowing if perhaps someone else is in here.”

  “You mean if the murderer is someone we haven’t even met?”

  “Right,” she nodded. “And I suggest we both be very careful. We search together. We never split up.” Reaching into her purse, she pulled out a small can. “And we come prepared.”

  “Pepper spray?” Brenda gasped.

  “I’ve been in more than one situation like this,” she admitted. “But first, let’s get that front door locked up tight.”

  “On it,” Brenda agreed, walking over to the door.

  As she was reaching out to turn the deadbolt into its latch, the door suddenly swung wide open. Lightning split the sky and a gale of fresh rain came pouring in.

  Brenda screamed as she looked up at the looming figure standing there.

  CHAPTER 15

  * * *

  “Doctor,” Sonja gasped, recognizing the drenched man in his floppy hat and tan vest.

  “What were you trying to do?” he barked, “lock me out in this storm?”

  “Please, come in, come in,” Brenda apologized, stepping aside to allow the man entrance. After he had stepped past, she closed the door and locked it.

  “Where were you?” Sonja asked straight out. “We’ve been looking for you.”

  He shrugged. “I decided to go out to my car to grab my reading glasses. I figured if I was going to be stuck here all night, I might as well entertain myself.” He motioned to the little metal turnstile of paperback books for sale.

  Something about his story was bugging Sonja, but she couldn’t figure out what. She felt like she was forgetting something.

  “It took you almost half-an-hour to get your glasses?” Byron asked, standing up. “Last I knew, you were in the bathroom.”

  “Yes, yes, I went to the bathroom and decided to get my glasses afterward.”

  “But still,” Sonja interjected, “You’ve been gone for a while now.”

  “I got lost,” he snapped back, “I was digging around in my car when all of a sudden the lights to the building here disappeared. In the rain and the darkness, I got all turned around. I’ve been wandering for the last fifteen minutes trying to find my way back.”

  Sonja raised a suspicious eyebrow. Could he seriously have gotten turned around and lost in the storm? Or was there something more sinister going on?

  “I need a cup of coffee,” he grumbled, heading into the dining area to sit down again.

  Byron was shaking his head at him shamefully.

  “A woman is dead. Are you aware of that?” Sonja asked, folding her arms.

  The doctor looked up with a confused look on his face. “Is this some sort of joke?”

  “Hardly,” she impatiently punctuated, “Dillon, the girl who was sitting here earlier, is lying outside dead.”

  “Someone’s dead?” P.J. asked, clearly out of the loop.

  “Dead? Are you sure?” the doctor exclaimed, setting his mug down and heading back toward the door.

  “Positive,” Sonja added. “I checked for vital signs.”

  Unlocking the door, the doctor opened it. “Show me where she is. I need to make sure you didn’t make a mistake.”

  “Where is my poncho?” Sonja asked Brenda.

  * * *

  Moments later, the trio of Sonja, Brenda, and the doctor were walking around the side of the building.

  “What’s your name?” Sonja asked above the cry of the storm. “I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced.”

  “Doctor Carter Wallaby,” he called back. “Just your normal family doctor is all.”

  “She’s over here,” Brenda announced, pointing.

  “Give me the light,” he insisted, taking the flashlight as Sonja handed it to him.

  Seeing the body again was almost as shocking as the first time. Brenda took a few steps back so she wouldn’t have to be too close.

  “Good heavens,” he breathed out upon seeing the wound in the girl’s neck. “What a mess.”

  “Looks like an animal attack,” Sonja noted, not wanting to give away that she knew there may be a murderer among them.

  The doctor didn’t answer and instead leaned forward to examine the body. Just
like Sonja, he took all vital signs, listening for breath, feeling for a pulse and heartbeat.

  “She’s gone,” he announced. “Been gone for a little while now.”

  “I know,” Sonja agreed. “What kind of animal do you think did this?”

  Doctor Wallaby glanced up at her with a raised eyebrow. “A human animal.”

  “Excuse me?” Sonja blurted, impressed that the doctor also had figured it out.

  “I can’t say for sure, but it looks to me like she didn’t die from these neck wounds.”

  “How can you tell?”

  “The coloration and swollen nature of her lips and her tongue, the skin which hasn’t been broken by the animal—such as near the back of the neck and on the jaw and cheeks—have bruising and fingernail marks on them.” He shook his head, “no, this doesn’t look like an accident. It looks like murder.”

  CHAPTER 16

  * * *

  Now that the cat was out of the bag, Sonja knew there would be no keeping it from the others. The doctor made sure of that.

  As the three of them stepped back into the station, Brenda locked the door behind them.

  “Good thinking,” he nodded, “We don’t want anyone going in or out.”

  “W-what’s happening?” Alison asked, realizing that the situation had grown more serious.

  “The girl outside wasn’t killed by a wild animal. She was killed by a human.”

  The room of people all gasped, particularly P.J. “Someone’s been murdered? Here at my restaurant?”

  “I know this is frightening, but everyone needs to stay calm,” the doctor put up his hands and motioned for everyone to stay seated.

  “It was that boy,” Byron shouted, standing up. “He killed her. We all saw the way he was treating her earlier.”

  “I couldn’t agree more,” Doctor Wallaby said, “but we can’t know that for sure, not yet. That’s why everyone should stay here together. Until the police arrive, I’m taking charge.”

  “And who said you could do that?” P.J. blurted out. “It’s my restaurant.”

  “I have experience in these matters.”

  “I thought you said you were a family doctor,” Sonja pointed out.

  “I worked for the homicide division in Salt Lake City for a little while before opening my own practice.” He stood up straight, looking a little smug. “That makes me the most qualified person to handle this situation.”

  “Sonja has detective experience,” Ally mentioned quietly.

  Turning to stare at her with one raised eyebrow, Doctor Wallaby put his hands on his hips. “What sort of detective experience?”

  “I’m a consultant for the police in Haunted Falls.”

  “Small town police?” He remarked, shaking his head. “I worked for the Salt Lake City police, where real crimes happened.”

  “Sonja’s solved multiple homicide cases, almost completely on her own,” Ally argued, a little color coming back to her cheeks.

  “I see,” the doctor muttered. “and what would you do in this situation?” he asked, obviously looking for her to make a mistake he could poke holes in.

  “Well, just as we’re doing now,” Sonja nodded. “We put everyone into one room temporarily. We lock up the building, and then Brenda and I search to make sure there isn’t anyone else here.”

  “You and Brenda?” He guffawed. “What makes you two so special? You were here during the murder, weren’t you? Why should we let you two go off on your own?”

  “Because we’re the only two with an alibi here,” Sonja remarked, folding her arms.

  The doctor went momentarily silent. “How is that?”

  “Brenda and I were together in the kitchen at the time of the murder.”

  “And how do you know the time of the murder?” he asked.

  “Well, I overheard Dillon and Harvey arguing outside while I was in the bathroom. Which means she was still alive then.”

  “Says you,” he corrected. “No one else heard her, did they?”

  “Even still, she was alive when she ran out of here and into the storm and Harvey followed her. I was in the bathroom only a moment before stepping into the kitchen to spend time with Brenda. We’ve been together ever since then.”

  “Well, that’s very convenient,” he sneered.

  “Much more convenient than anyone else can say, especially you.”

  “How is that?” He argued, clearly getting agitated that he was being upstaged by a small woman.

  “Well, you were wandering around outside in the rain during the entire time when the murder could have taken place.”

  “That’s right,” Byron added. “You were outside the whole time. What’s to say you didn’t do the poor girl in and then announced it yourself to cover up?”

  “What about you?” the doctor snapped back. “Where have you been?”

  “I was sitting here in this chair all night,” he proudly remarked.

  “It’s true,” Ally nodded. “I haven’t seen him get up once, except to try and call the police.”

  “Thank you,” he nodded toward Alison gratefully. “And I can just as easily vouch for this lovely young woman.”

  “And what about you?” the doctor pointed a finger at P.J. “Where have you been all evening?”

  “I was asleep in the back room,” he defended himself.

  “But no one there to see you?” the doctor said.

  “He was back there when we passed by to go turn on the generator,” Brenda butted in. “He was out like a light.”

  “It looks like everyone has some semblance of an alibi but you, Doctor,” Byron bantered, adding to the tension.

  “Well, it wasn’t me,” he snapped. “I told you I was lost in the storm.”

  “In any case,” Sonja broke in, hoping to end the lengthy discussion, “I think everyone should stay here in the room. Brenda and I will search the rest of the building together.”

  “Maybe you two are in on it,” Doctor Wallaby accused, wanting to divert the conversation away from him as the only person without an alibi.

  “And what possible motive could we have?” Brenda argued. “I’ve never met the girl before in my life, and I certainly hadn’t met Sonja until tonight either.”

  The doctor let out a seething breath. He seemed like the sort of man who enjoyed competition and attention until it started to look like he was losing. Sonja would hate to think about going to him as a physician.

  “Fine,” he muttered, taking a seat nearby. “Do what you will.”

  CHAPTER 17

  * * *

  They began searching the building of the convenience shop, glancing between and behind the shelves two times over. “Is there any space behind those fridges?” Sonja motioned toward the displays of sports and energy drinks.

  “None, all you see is right before your eyes.”

  “Gotcha,” she nodded.

  “The man’s bathroom next?”

  “Yep,” Sonja agreed, heading that way. Stepping down the hall, they went into the bathroom and glanced around. Besides the stacks of boxes and other junk in the corner, the room seemed pretty empty.

  Sonja moved toward the stall door and opened it.

  “Anyone?”

  Sonja shook her head. She was about to step out when she felt a light spray of water hit her neck. “Hold on.”

  “What is it?” Brenda asked, stepping close.

  She glanced up toward the window and down at the toilet seat—which sat in the upward position. “I have a hunch,” Sonja nodded, carefully lowering the toilet seat to reveal muddy boot prints on the top.

  Brenda gasped. “What a mess.”

  “Size nines,” Sonja noted before stepping up on the seat herself.

  “What are you doing?”

  Once Sonja was all the way up, she examined the window and nodded triumphantly. “Just as I suspected. The window is cracked open.”

  “Do you think someone came in?”

  “I know they did,” Sonja confirm
ed, closing and latching the window.

  Stepping down, she looked her sleuthing partner in the eye. “This means that someone else has gotten in.”

  “Do you think it’s Harvey?”

  Sonja nodded solemnly. “From here on out we have to be especially careful. We know he’s inside.”

  She checked that the pepper spray was in her pocket and motioned for Brenda to follow her back out into the hall.

  “Where could he have gone?” Brenda whispered.

  “Not very far,” she asserted. “Does the back area of the store and the back area of the restaurant connect at all?”

  The station owner shook her head. “No. The men’s bathroom is on this side, as well as a stock room for merchandise and the janitorial closet. The other side is the kitchen, the women’s restroom, our breakroom and office, and another storage room for restaurant supplies,” she shrugged. “The only way to get from one to the other is to walk out front or have a key to the back doors.”

  Sonja held up a finger, “That means he’s on this side of the building. He’s either in the stock room or the janitor’s closet.”

  Motioning for her to follow, they reached the stock room first. “On the count of three, we’ll open the door.” She nodded, “ready?”

  Together the women whispered, “One, two, three.” They threw open the door and both let out sighs of relief as they stared at piles of chips, cookies, and snacks.

  Without warning, and before they could shut the door again, there was a heavy shove and the two went stumbling into the room and the door shut behind them.

  “It’s him,” Sonja shouted, “He’s getting away.”

  They threw open the door and chased after him down the hall toward the convenience shop.

  Digging into her pocket, Sonja tried to prepare the pepper spray, but it was caught on her jeans and wouldn’t come out.

  Luckily, she didn’t have to.

  In his attempt to make it to the front door, he didn’t calculate the pile of skulls all over the floor and took a heavy tumble into a display of chips. Processed puffs of cheesy corn and bits of fried potato went sky high as bags popped open from the impact.