The Wicked Waffle: Book 1 in The Diner of the Dead Series

by Carolyn Q. Hunter

  She wanted to have a look around the diner, to assess what might need to be done in order to reopen. Of course, she already knew that there was a small lawn that needed to be mowed, and weeds that needed trimming, but she had barely gotten to take a look at the inside before making the gruesome discovery of what had been waiting in the freezer.

  When she pulled up she was surprised to see that a small crowd of people had gotten there before her. Alison stood near one of the windows, Cynthia strapped to her back, washing down the glass. The front doors were propped open and a few teenage boys from town were scrubbing them with brushes and a bucket. Alex and Vic were working together on the weeds and grass.

  Seeing Sonja get out of her car, Alison waved, “Check it out, we started without you,” she grinned.

  “You didn’t have to do this,” Sonja replied, touched.

  “Of course I didn’t have to. I wanted to,” Ally gave her a hug, nearly splashing cleanser from the squeegee on her shoes.

  “Hiya, Sonja,” Vic said as he walked up and gave her a big squishy hug. He was a large man, at least six feet tall, with a belly that told the world how much he enjoyed his own cooking. He smelled pleasantly of freshly mown grass. “It’s good to see ya.”

  “Hi, Sonja,” Alex raised the pair of garden shears that he was using in greeting.

  “Well, I’m just blown away,” Sonja said.

  “We’re happy to help,” Vic said, patting Sonja on the back. “We even got a few of the boys from town to help out, as part of a service project for school.”

  The three boys waved. The outspoken one in the group called out, “Hey, thanks, we got out of class for this!”

  “That’s Sam, Dillon, and Brian,” Vic said, shaking his head, amused.

  “They used to hang out here on Game Night, so, I’m betting they're looking forward to having that back.” Alison added.

  “Oh, wow, that whole thing is still going on, huh?” Sonja asked, surprised.

  “Yeah, and we had to play in the church basement for the past month,” one of the boys said. “It smells down there, and we had to listen to the Pastor practice his sermons in the room above us.”

  “Well, we’ll have to see if we can fix that,” Sonja grinned, sympathizing.

  “All right!” All three boys whooped.

  “Thanks so much for your help everyone. Now, where can I pitch in?”

  * * *

  An hour and a half later, the crew had managed to get a lot done. They’d wiped down almost every surface of the diner, inside and out. Now they were ready to start bringing the equipment back in, so Vic took his truck and went to pick it up.

  “Where did you say the equipment was?” Sonja asked Alison.

  “In the church basement. I was so upset about everything, that I just didn’t want to deal with trying to sell it, so I donated it to the annual summer charity sale. Thankfully, Pastor Williams is understanding and is letting us take it all back.”

  “Well, thank goodness for that.”

  In no time at all, Vic returned, with Pastor Williams.

  “Here’s the first load,” Vic shouted out the window.

  The teenagers raced each other over to the truck, boasting about who would be able to pick up the heaviest thing.

  “Now, gentlemen,” said the Pastor as he got out of the truck, “this isn’t a competition. You should work together.”

  “Sure, we’ll work together,” Sam, the smallest of the three, said. “But I’ll still lift the heaviest stuff.”

  Pastor Williams chuckled as he headed towards Sonja. He looked so out-of-character in a pair of jeans and a plaid work shirt, but still managed to look distinguished with his clean-cut, salt-and-pepper colored hair.

  “It’s good to see you, Sonja. I’m happy to hear you’ll be contributing to the community again.”

  “Thank you, Pastor Williams. I see you’re not wearing your usual suit and tie.”

  “No, I thought I could help to move these items back into the diner. Or at least, offer what little help I can. I won’t be able to carry anything too heavy,” the pastor held up a bandaged hand. “I accidently cut my hand moving some items around in the church basement for the charity sale.”

  “Yikes, well be careful,” Sonja said sympathetically. “We definitely appreciate any help that you can give.”

  Sam tried to lift a heavy commercial mixer from the back of the truck by himself.

  “Excuse me, Pastor,” Sonja blurted, running over to the boy and grabbing the other side of it. “Need some help?”

  “No,” was the strained reply. “I got it.”

  “Well, I’ll help you anyway,” she raised her eyebrows, brooking no argument.

  Sam looked miffed for a minute, but finally shrugged and started moving carefully with Sonja toward the diner. They carried the mixer through the double doors and into the back. The two other boys were toting the large replica of a chocolate sundae in behind them.

  “Don’t get caught by the ghost back there, Sam,” One of the two boys carrying the sundae shouted.

  Sonja was embarrassed to feel her heart begin to flutter in her chest. The memory of the face she had seen…or thought that she had seen…came flashing through her mind.

  “Oh, whatever,” Sam called back, rolling his eyes.

  “What was that all about?” Sonja asked as they set the mixer on the metal counter in the kitchen.

  “Dillon and Brian both think this place is haunted now…since the body was found.”

  “That’s just ridiculous,” Alison said, entering the room with a stack of metal mixing bowls. “You shouldn’t talk about those types of things anyway.”

  “It’s just stories,” Sam snickered.

  Sonja shot a look at Alison.

  “Don’t you start too, Sonja,” Alison scolded.

  “Really?” Sonja challenged. “Aren’t you even a little spooked after what we saw?”

  “I’m trying not to think about it,” Alison sighed.

  “Oh, hey…that’s right,” Sam’s eyes grew wide. “You guys were the ones who found the body right?”

  Dillon and Brian came bursting into the kitchen. “You saw the body?”

  Alison shook her head and walked out of the room.

  Sonja watched her go. “Yeah, we saw the body.”

  Dillon’s looked at her intently, “Was it creepy?”

  “I wouldn’t call it creepy, it was more sad. That woman had friends and family.”

  “That’s not what I heard,” Sam interjected. “I heard everyone hated her.”

  Sonja crossed her arms over her chest. “You shouldn’t speak ill of the dead,” she chided the teenager.

  “It’s not me saying it, it’s everybody in town,” he shrugged. “The people who worked for her, the people that she talked to in town – nobody liked this lady.”

  “I heard that too,” Brian nodded.

  “Even her own stepdaughter hates her,” Dillon chimed in.

  “Stepdaughter?” Sonja asked.

  She vaguely remembered hearing something about Leonard Smith having a daughter. If she remembered correctly, the daughter mostly stayed locked up in the mansion, never really coming out.

  “Belinda,” Sam confided. “Yeah, supposedly Belinda hated her,” he said matter-of-factly.

  “Okay, boys,” the Pastor put an end to the conversation, coming into through the doorway of the kitchen carrying handfuls of cooking utensils. “No more speaking ill of poor Ronda. I’m sure the Lord doesn’t like to hear you talk that way,” he admonished them firmly but gently.

  “Yes, sir,” Sam said, before bolting out the door with the other boys to get more items.

  “Sorry about that,” Sonja apologized, cursing her burning cheeks. Why did she always feel guilty around this man?

  “The sad thing is that the fellas were telling the truth, I’m afraid,” Pastor Williams said ruefully.

  “What do you mean?” Sonja stopped what she was doing, surprised.

  �
��No one in this community cared much for her. It’s a shame. You’d think people in our town would be a bit more forgiving and neighborly, but I suppose their animosity is somewhat understandable.”

  “I guess I’m not surprised, based on what I’ve heard about her.”

  “Some folks just can’t see past their own ambition. The dollar signs cloud their judgment, and people become less important than achievement. She would’ve turned this town into a tourist attraction if she could’ve,” he shook his head.

  Sonja felt curious, having never met the woman, about what would make her so mean. “What do you know about her?”

  He sighed. “Just enough to make me sad. Apparently, she seemed to have an ulterior motive for marrying Mr. Smith, and it ended up leaving poor Belinda without a dime after his death.”

  “She got Belinda’s inheritance?” Sonja guessed.

  The Pastor nodded grimly. “Somehow, she convinced Leonard to change his will, granting Ronda the entire estate before he died, leaving Belinda—his own daughter—with nothing. The only stipulation in the will was that Ronda had to allow Belinda to remain in the mansion.”

  “Hmm…that’s odd. Why he would give his entire estate to a woman he’d only known for such a short time? Even though they were married, you’d think that he’d have made certain that his daughter would be taken care of.”

  “I honestly don’t know. Belinda needed that money far more than Ronda did. Heaven, help that child now,” he sighed.

  “Why? Is something wrong with Belinda? I always knew she was kind of shy and awkward. She used to go to school with us, but then people said that her father pulled her out for private tutoring.”

  “I think he was embarrassed by her.”

  “Why is that?”

  “When she was little, Belinda liked to spread rumors, tell stories, make up falsehoods.”

  “Doesn’t everyone, when they’re little?” Sonja smiled wryly.

  “Well, yes, I suppose that’s true, but there was one thing that seemed to cross the line for Leonard. Belinda thought that she could see ghosts.”

  Chapter 7

  By about one o’clock in the afternoon, two truckloads of items had been moved back into the diner. Everyone was hot, sweaty and tired.

  “Looks like it’s time for a lunch break,” Sonja observed.

  “Well, I think I better call it a day,” Pastor Williams announced. “I still have preparations to make for next Sunday’s sermon. I look forward to seeing you there, Sonja.”

  Sonja’s shoulders drooped, “Sure,” she pasted on a wan smile.

  “Do you mind giving me a ride back, Vic?” he asked.

  “Sure thing.”

  “Oh, I almost forgot,” Pastor Williams turned back for a moment. “Sonja, I was wondering if you would be willing to volunteer the parking lot of the diner for this year’s charity sale?”

  “Oh that’s right,” Alex said, “They’re redoing the church’s parking lot and it’s all ripped up.”

  “Exactly,” the Pastor confirmed. “So we are in great need of a venue for the event. What do you say?”

  Sonja nodded, “Sounds fine.”

  He grinned, relieved. “Great. The sale is this Saturday. We’ll start moving things out here on Friday.”

  Vic and the Pastor left the diner, headed back to the church.

  “Looks like we’ve got our work cut out for us,” Sonja sighed, flopping down in the grass next to Alison.

  “Yeah know what I think, Sonja?”

  “What?”

  “I think you should rename the diner.”

  “What? Why? I couldn’t do that,” she shook her head.

  “Sure you can. If you’re going to be the owner, I think you should rename it.”

  “Well, Sonja’s Diner just doesn’t quite ring a bell,” she chuckled.

  “You’ll think of something,” Ally grinned.

  “I’m sure I will,” Sonja replied, hoping for a subject change.

  Alison paused, looking at something in the distance. “Who’s that?”

  Sonja looked in the direction Alison had pointed out. There was somebody walking towards them up the road. Someone who looked familiar. She stood up for a better look. Then she realized who it was. It was her father.

  * * *

  “Hi, Sonja,” the man whom she hadn’t seen since he walked out years ago said simply, a strange look in his eyes.

  Sonja stood staring, speechless. After four years of imagining that she’d never see him again, here he was, and she couldn’t think of a single thing to say.

  “Aren’t you happy to see your old man?” he tried to lighten the moment.

  Sonja still said nothing, she just stood, taking him in. His hair was gray, almost white, and he wore the dark t-shirt, and jeans that she remembered as being his uniform of choice. She’d only ever seen him with dark hair, and no beard, but now he had a beard that was as dark as his hair used to be. His eyes were the same brilliant shade of green, vibrant like two jade stones.

  “Would you like to have lunch?”

  Finally, Sonja nodded and spoke. “Sure.”

  * * *

  She drove her mom’s sedan, since her father said that his car had broken down at the edge of town. They stopped at a local burger shop at his suggestion.

  “It isn’t fancy, but it’ll do,” he shrugged, looking slightly embarrassed.

  Sonja assumed it was all he could afford. They went in and ordered burgers and fries, taking a seat in one of the yellow plastic booths. For a while, they just sat quietly and ate. Sonja’s heart and mind were whirlwinds of conflicting emotion. She wondered if maybe she wasn’t ready to see her father again, or if maybe she never would be.

  “So…I heard you were in New York for a few months. How was that?” he asked politely, breaking the stifling silence.

  Sonja tried to form words to answer him but just couldn’t seem to muster any.

  “That good, huh?” he paused, and took another bite of his burger. “These aren’t bad for the price.”

  “So…helping get the old diner fixed back up?” he tried again.

  “Yeah,” Sonja managed to get out, breaking a french fry into tiny bits.

  “Well, that’s nice of you. I’m sure Alison appreciates it.”

  “I’m . . . taking over the diner.”

  “Oh? Taking over the diner? That’s exciting. How did you manage that?” he smiled, relieved that she was at least participating.

  Sonja experienced a swell of emotion inside of her that made her feel as though she would burst. Years of pain, loneliness and rejection morphed into an all-consuming resentment.

  “So, are you going to change the name to Sonja’s Diner or something?” he continued, entirely unaware of the storm that was rising up within his daughter.

  Sonja realized that she was glaring at the stranger sitting across from her, pretending to be her father. Her feelings simmered over, blowing the lid off of her self-restraint.

  “How can you do this?” she demanded, at a higher volume than she had intended. A mother and two kids at a nearby table looked over at her. “How can you just sit there and pretend that nothing is wrong?” she lowered her voice slightly.

  “What do you mean, sweetie?”

  “Don’t call me that,” Sonja’s voice trembled, and her eyes welled. “Where did you go? Where have you been for four years? How could you just leave us like that? Like you didn’t even care?”

  Her father’s shoulders hunched, as he looked down at his half-eaten hamburger avoiding eye contact.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “You’re sorry? That’s all you have to say?”

  He avoided her gaze, ashamed.

  “Why did you leave? Why didn’t you even say goodbye?”

  “It’s more complicated than you think, Sonja.”

  “Is that so? Please, elaborate,” she challenged, barely containing her fury. Memories of her mother crying at the kitchen table flooded her mind like poison.
/>   “I wish I could, sweetie. But, I just can’t.”

  “Well, that’s not good enough,” Sonja set her jaw and slid out of the booth. “We can have lunch together again when you feel like being honest with me, and being honest with mom.”

  She turned to go, and noticed Sheriff Thompson walking in with two deputies. They glanced in her direction and headed straight for her table.

  “What’s going on?” Sonja asked, sensing trouble in the serious looks on their faces.

  “Excuse us, Sonja,” Sheriff Thompson moved past her and focused on her father.

  “Samuel Reed?”

  “Yeah? You know me, Sheriff,” he replied, confused.

  “We’ll need you to come with us.”

  “Why? What’s going on?” Sonja asked.

  Ignoring her, the Sheriff spoke.

  “Samuel Reed, you are under arrest for the murder of Ronda Smith.”

  Chapter 8

  “Wait. What’s going on?” Sonja asked again, eyes wide.

  “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law,” the Sheriff recited, pulling her father up from his seat.

  “What is going on?” she demanded again, losing patience.

  The Sheriff continued to ignore her, and handcuffed Samuel.

  “Sheriff, please…” she pleaded. “For just a second, please stop and tell me what’s happening!”

  “Sorry, Sonja. We’re taking your father in. He’s suspect in the Ronda Smith murder case.”

  “Dad? This is crazy! Why would they think that?” Sonja tried to catch her father’s eye to see how he was reacting, but he only looked down, unresponsive.

  The deputies escorted him from the restaurant, to the waiting squad car.

  “Dad!” Sonja called after him, not knowing what to do.

  * * *

  Sonja followed the Sheriff to the police station. Her mind whirled with confusion. The series of strange events over the last few days left her feeling dazed and drained. After not having seen her father for roughly four years, she’d expected to finally get some answers. Instead, she watched him being led away in handcuffs. She didn’t know her father well, and she knew that he had been irresponsible, but surely that didn’t mean that he was capable of murder…did it? Sonja pulled up outside the police station just as the Sheriff was escorting her father inside.