Creepy Christmas Waffle: Book 7 in the Diner of the Dead Series

by Carolyn Q. Hunter

  So, she resorted to classic methods of multiple electric waffle irons.

  Letting the dish finish cooking, Sonja poured some cream into a bowl along with a drop of peppermint extract, a drop of cinnamon extract, a drop of vanilla, and the slightest dash of winter rum. Whisking the mixture together, it quickly began to froth and then turn into a perfectly solid fluff.

  The waffle iron dinged and Sonja quickly removed the item and placed it on a plate. Topping it with a large dollop of the whipped cream, she then sprinkled on a small amount of pre-crushed peppermint candy cane. Finally, she garnished the dish with a fresh piece of holly.

  “Are those eggs done?” She called across the kitchen.

  “Just pulling them off the griddle now.” Vic swiped under the eggs with his spatula and gently set them on a plate with the bacon. “Order up,” he announced.

  Grabbing the two plates, she placed them on a serving tray along with a freshly brewed cup of coffee—topped with the same whipped cream. Walking out to the dining area she noticed Dick was still on the phone.

  “No, he can’t do this to me,” he argued. “Not now, not this close to Christmas.” Pausing for a moment, Richard listened to whatever counter argument came from the other side. “Fine, fine. Just forget about it. I’ll have to figure something out.” With that, he hung up the phone and headed back toward his booth.

  “Here is your food, Dick,” Sonja announced setting it on the table.

  “Eat it yourself,” he snapped, throwing the phone down and grabbing his coat.

  “But Mr. Hanson?” Sonja protested, surprised at the sudden burst of anger.

  “I don’t have time,” he growled, a strange darkness under his eyes as he grabbed his coat and stormed out the door into the heavy snowfall.

  “What the heck is wrong with him?” the diner owner whispered to herself.

  CHAPTER 5

  * * *

  A moment later, just before Sonja could turn and head back into the kitchen with the wasted food, the diner door swung open again. Frank Thompson, the local sheriff and Sonja’s boyfriend of the past five months, stepped in. He removed his winter hat revealing his clean cut, if a little messy, blonde hair. Spotting his girlfriend he smiled and swept over to kiss her on the cheek.

  Sonja couldn’t help but blush—after all, she was at work.

  “Merry Christmas,” he beamed.

  “It’s not Christmas yet.” She set the tray of food down on the table.

  “That for me?” he teased.

  “Might as well be. The customer who ordered it just stormed out.”

  Frank took a seat in the booth and began to cut into one of the eggs. “You mean Dick? I thought he looked angry. What happened?”

  Sonja shrugged. “I have no idea. He made his order and then asked to borrow my phone to make a call for work. When I came back with the food, he threw the phone down and told me to ‘eat it myself.’ Then he stormed out.”

  The uniformed man raised one suspicious eyebrow. “That doesn’t sound like Dick. Not at all.”

  “No, it was strange. I can’t imagine what is happening at work that has him so mad.”

  “Well, I’m sure it’s none of our business.” Frank sliced into the first bite of waffle, shoveling it into his mouth. He took a moment to savor the food, closing his eyes as he chewed. “Sonja,” he said once he’d swallowed. “You’ve really outdone yourself with these Christmas Waffles.”

  “Holly Waffles,” she corrected. “But it doesn’t matter. How is work for you?”

  Instantly, Frank’s expression changed from one of contentment to one of frustration, his eyebrows bending in at the middle. “A pain.” Taking another bite and swallowing, he pointed his fork toward the window. “I found some young punk making trouble at the town park, writing out obscenities in the snow with the dregs of a beer he had. It was obvious he’d already had a couple.”

  Sonja took a seat across from Frank. “This early in the morning?”

  “I assume he’s from out of town, not that we don’t have our fill of drunks here, but this kid definitely seems like a city slicker. He had a motorbike parked nearby. No one in this town would be dumb enough to ride one of those around in this weather.”

  “So what did you do?” Borrowing the fork, Sonja took a bite of her own waffle, realizing she hadn’t had anything but a cup of coffee for breakfast that morning. Letting the spices and the cream all combine in one magical symphony of flavor in her mouth, she had to admit, this was her favorite recipe yet.

  Getting the fork back from her, he continued his story. “Well, I told him to please leave the property. His response? ‘It’s a free country, ain’t it?’ Completely childish.”

  “Sheesh, it sounds like the guy is in middle school.”

  “I wish. At least then I could take him to his parents. But no, this is an adult male—probably in his early to mid-twenties.”

  “And he talked back to you? A police officer?”

  Frank nodded, taking a bite of bacon. “Obviously the beer talking more than anything else. Either way, I wasn’t going to stand for that. So, trying to stay calm, I told him that this was a family park and that we didn’t allow loitering. I also emphasized that the obscenities he had written out weren’t family friendly and needed to be covered.”

  “What did he say to that?”

  “He told me ‘there ain’t gonna be no kids out here today, man. It’s snowing.’ ”

  “Wow.” Sonja grabbed a piece of bacon from the plate and took a bite.

  “Well, that’s when I told him he was under arrest for disturbing the peace, drunken and disorderly conduct, and for resisting an officer. At that, he said, ‘you can’t arrest me, man. My uncle will sue your pants off. He basically established this nothin’ town.’ ”

  “His uncle?” Sonja suddenly had a light turn on in her head.

  “I took out the cuffs, but he bolted into the trees. Went into the forest.”

  “Did you go after him?”

  Frank shook his head. “No. I let him go. Anyway, all I wanted was for him to get out of the park.” He ate the final bite of his egg. “After he left, I covered up his snow graffiti. It wasn’t anything permanent.”

  “I think I just might know who that kid’s uncle might be.”

  “Who?”

  “Sam Hinkley.”

  Frank let his mouth drop open and then began to laugh. “Sam Hinkley?”

  The diner owner nodded. “I gave him a ride this morning, listened to him complain about his nephew visiting for the holiday.”

  “Sam wouldn’t sue anyone. He’s a teddy bear.”

  Sonja nodded. “I know that, and you know that, but maybe the kid hoped you wouldn’t ask who his uncle is.”

  “Well, I didn’t ask. I figured he was lying anyway.” Polishing off the last of the waffle, Frank leaned back in the booth seat. “What’s that nephew doing here anyway? I’ve not heard word of him before.”

  “Sam thinks he wants to butter him up.”

  “He’s doing a knock-out job of it,” Frank commented sarcastically. “Butter him up for what, exactly?”

  “So, that Sam will change his will to include him.”

  At this, Frank couldn’t help but smile, showing all his perfectly white teeth. “Well, I highly doubt that’s going to happen.”

  Sonja began gathering up the dishes and placing them back on the tray. “Oh? What makes you say that?”

  “Because I just witnessed Sam’s new will last week.”

  Sitting straight upright in her seat, Sonja was suddenly all ears. “He made out a new will?”

  “Yep. I acted as one of the witnesses, Benjamin as another. Then I notarized it.”

  “I don’t suppose you could tell me what it said?”

  “I’m betting you can guess.”

  “It’s all going to Benjamin,” she said without hesitation.

  Snapping his fingers, Frank pointed at his girlfriend. “You got it.”

  “Sam did say th
at Benjamin was like the son he never had.”

  “All the more reason to change the will.”

  Sonja leaned back on her side of the booth. “He doesn’t have any other family, I suppose.”

  “Just that gem of a nephew you mentioned.”

  “So, Benjamin gets everything, huh? Even the farm?”

  Frank nodded. “Yep. Originally Sam wanted his inheritance to go toward a good cause. His old will made out everything to the NPSW, but since the company has gotten too politics heavy, and now that Benjamin’s in the picture, he decided he needed to make some changes.”

  “Makes sense,” Sonja reached out and brushed her boyfriend’s hand, “and it certainly seems that his nephew was never even in consideration for the will.”

  “And I doubt that’ll ever change,” Frank confirmed.

  CHAPTER 6

  * * *

  Sonja quickly realized she’d had spent too much time chatting and, quickly getting back to work, offered a special Christmas discount to the tables that had to wait to be served. She told Frank his meal was on the house, but he insisted on paying.

  The rest of the day was like a blur of Holly Waffles and Christmas Crème. It seemed that a lot of people who loved the diner—especially families—all decided to make a special trip out to eat for the holidays. Finally, at five o’clock on the dot, they closed for the night.

  Now that the day was finally over, the diner owner sent Alison home and eagerly finished the final closing duties, thinking of all the holiday fun she’d get to have over the next few days. Grabbing a few necessities she’d need for the Christmas party, Sonja headed out the back door into the frigid night.

  The wind blew so hard that Sonja thought she’d never make it to the van with her arms so full of cooking supplies. The snow felt like jagged pieces of ice cutting into her skin. Finally opening the back door of her van, she loaded up the items she had grabbed and heard a distinct meow. The little cat from earlier was curled up inside the back of the van and seemed excited to see the self-adopted owner.

  “Oh, hello,” she whispered. “Seems that you’re still in here.” She smiled at the ghostly white animal and reached her hand out toward it. The ghost rubbed up against (and through) Sonja’s fingers, purring the entire time. “It’s a good thing you’re already a ghost, kitty, because I don’t think you would’ve survived this cold if you were alive.”

  The ghost whispering woman suddenly realized that, perhaps, this cat did die in the cold and was now just happy to no longer be in pain. Sonja wondered if her mother would be able to see the animal too, just like Mr. Hinkley had, or if it was just a fluke.

  “Well, looks like you’re coming home with me,” she nodded. For a second, it almost looked like the cat nodded in response. Closing the back doors, Sonja climbed into the van and began the slow and treacherous drive back home.

  There would still be a lot of work to do before the party, and only a couple short hours to do it, but she would be side-by-side with her mother with a roaring fire nearby, and fresh hot chocolate on the stove.

  Driving up the incline toward home, she noticed a strange humming sound echoing in the distance. Perking up her ears, she tried to listen for whatever it was to get close—or at least to see what direction it was coming from.

  The winter darkness and the blowing snow, however, made it both difficult to see and hear.

  Rolling down her window a bit, she strained to listen.

  That’s when the cat hissed. Glancing down at the passenger seat, she noticed the ghost was standing up, completely straight legged, hair all on end. It hissed wildly and its eyes began to glow—almost as if catching on fire.

  Eyes widening in surprise, Sonja watched as the cat seemed to grow, expanding from where it stood on the seat until its front paws were on the floor of the van and its tail waving in such a large arc that it was going through Sonja’s shoulder. It was a surprisingly cold sensation.

  The hissing noise from the cat’s throat quickly became the guttural growl of a large predator, much like you could see at the zoo. She realized she was staring at a grade A, genuine snow leopard. Because she was so affixed on the frightening wild animal beside her, Sonja almost didn’t see the single headlight coming toward her.

  Suddenly, as if appearing out of nowhere, a motorcycle came shooting like a bullet across the intersection in front of the van. Screaming, the diner owner slammed on the breaks, praying to all goodness that—despite the snow and ice—she wouldn’t hit the motorist.

  The van began to spin, tipping to the left as the wheels squealed in pain, trying maddeningly to grip the asphalt. Sonja closed her eyes tight and waited for the impact. Luckily, the vehicle stopped before any serious damage could be done.

  After a few moments, and wondering if her heart would ever return to a normal rhythm, she peered out and noticed the cyclist flipping her the bird from the sidelines. “Watch where you’re going, lady,” he shouted through the snowstorm. “You almost killed me.” The man, who wore no helmet, glared at her as he revved his motorcycle. Peering out into the snowy darkness, she couldn’t help but believe this was Dillion, Sam’s nephew.

  “I had the right of way,” Sonja cried back. “You had a stop sign.”

  “Don’t start with me, lady. My uncle will sue you for all your worth.”

  “You mean, Sam Hinkley?” She snapped back.

  The young man’s face slackened in surprise. Angrily, the man set his jaw. “What’s it to ya’?”

  “What’s your name?” She insisted.

  “None of your business,” he sneered. “Now, if you don’t get out of my face right now, I’m gonna make you regret it, lady.”

  Before Sonja could say another word, the large cat in the car beside (which she’d almost forgotten about) leaped out of the van through the windshield—letting out a roar that only a wild animal could muster.

  “Holy crap,” the young man shouted, stumbling from his bike and into the snow. “Call him off, call him off,” he cried, bating away at the animal.

  “I can’t,” Sonja honestly called back. “I don’t know how.” A sense of worry crept up in Sonja’s chest. Could this spirit really hurt the young man? If it could, would it?

  Screaming like a little child, the man scurried away on his hands and knees—sobbing the entire time. As soon as he got far enough away from the growling leopard, he jumped up to his feet and ran off into the night, leaving the motorcycle on its side in the snow.

  Trotting nonchalantly back to the van, the large cat jumped in the same way it had left and shrank back down to the size of a kitten. There it sat, purring and licking its paws.

  Sonja examined the little ghost next to her, amazed at what it had just done. Looking up at its new owner, the cat mewed happily.

  She smiled back. “I think I like you.”

  CHAPTER 7

  * * *

  Sonja and her mother spent the next hour and a half eagerly getting ready for the block party. Overall, Sonja was in charge of food and refreshments while her mother took care of the decorations.

  The dining room table was lined with a simple and elegant red tablecloth and topped with a centerpiece of holly, cinnamon, and garland. LED candles were placed in holders around the room to give it an authentic glow.

  Sonja made up a fresh batch of mini waffles along with an assortment of homemade jams, syrups, fruits, and candies so that party attendees could dress up their own dish however they liked. Her personal favorite was a combination of apple butter and cinnamon spice. Additionally, she used mini pie crusts to make up delicious Christmas quiches filled with bacon bits, green onions, chives, and the slightest amount of hot pepper.

  Laughing quietly to herself, she realized that even at the annual Christmas party she couldn’t seem to get away from breakfast foods. “I guess we all know what my favorite meal of the day is,” she giggled, looking to her mother who stood on a ladder and was putting up mistletoe in the dining room doorway.

  “It’s always
been your favorite. Don’t see why that would be different now.” Getting the ribbon on the little hook, she took a step down the ladder. “Does it look straight?”

  “Looks fine,” she confirmed. “But why there?”

  “This door gets the most traffic.”

  “You’re not trying to force Frank and I into a kiss are you?” Sonja teased. While she had wanted her boyfriend to kiss her, and not just a peck on the cheek, for over a month now, she was leaving it up to him to initiate the first kiss.

  “Maybe this will give Frank the push he needs,” Diane replied matter-of-factly.

  For once, Sonja couldn’t agree more with her mother. “We can only hope.”

  “The first time your father ever kissed me was under the mistletoe,” Diane whispered. Her eyes began to glisten in the soft light of the room.

  Sad for her mother, and feeling a little sad herself, Sonja slumped her shoulders. Her father had left them almost five years ago, without any reason or notice, and while he had a habit of popping up now and again, he mostly just brought more heartache with him. He had never explained his departure and his subsequent absence from their lives.

  Recently, things had gotten more complicated—and confusing—as he had turned up during times when Sonja was confronting some new supernatural force. More and more it seemed as if he were somehow tied in with all of it.

  Shaking the memories away, Sonja looked up at her mother. “Let’s not think about sad things. We’ve got a whole group of friends coming over soon and you wouldn’t want them to see you crying, would you?”

  Diane smiled, wiping away a tear. “You’re right, honey. This is a time to celebrate. Let’s have fun tonight.”