“Anti-social on account of his father. Lincoln always worried that somehow, his sons knew the truth. So, it was easier to keep them home—guilt them into taking care of him. Of course, his temper didn’t help. Scared the younger one into complete submission.”
“I see.”
“The only reason he was nominated for that blasted award today is because everyone still sees him as a war hero.”
“You’ve never told anyone else? Ever?” She asked, convinced there had to be at least one or two other times where the truth slipped out.
Perkins' lip twisted to one side in a sneer, obviously contemplating his past. “I’ve only told one other person besides you, ever.”
Sonja leaned in close. “Who was that?”
CHAPTER 12
Walking down the steps of the building and out into the warm afternoon air, Sonja watched as the last few cars filtered out of the parking lot from the picnic just up the road—most likely vendors who had taken longer to clean up.
Carl had revealed some very interesting tidbits of family history she had never expected of one of the most revered men in town. At the end of their conversation, she had graciously invited Carl to come to the diner some morning and get a free plate of her waffles, and the war veteran had happily accepted.
She just hoped those waffles kept him from blabbing too much of what he said to anyone else-except for maybe the sheriff. The last thing she needed was everyone hearing that Lincoln’s long lost, disinherited son might be wandering around town or hiding out in the woods.
Sonja also hoped, for the sake of Shamus, that all the truth about Lincoln’s dishonorable actions during the war stayed under wraps—at least for the time being.
Continuing her previous path toward home, she thought back on the information—heavy information—she had just received. Now Shamus’ comment, his worry about his older brother being disowned made more sense. Lincoln was trying to cover everything up, so when his son found out the truth, it was easier to disown him.
It also gave some truth to Shamus’ comment that his father was fairly poor, which meant one potential motive for murder was out the window—but it didn’t clear the son completely.
For a moment, Sonja considered calling up Sheriff Thompson and discussing the news with him, but she just wasn’t ready to talk to him yet—let alone be reprimanded for putting her nose where it didn’t belong again. She just didn’t think she could take any more tension or conflict of that caliber today.
So Sonja continued on home. When she got to the bottom of the hill—between the road leading up to her mother’s house intersected with the road that led to the diner—she decided to stop in and see if Alison was there.
If she needed anything today, it was her best friend’s shoulder to cry on.
Walking up the path to The Waffle Diner and Eatery’s parking lot, Sonja instantly spotted the white catering van parked just behind the building. Good, that meant Alison was there. Most likely, Ally had cleaned up a little early—once all of, or at least most of, the food was sold—and then left to get the diner ready for the dinner rush.
Arriving at the front double doors, Sonja unlocked the latch and stepped inside, spotting her friend at the counter. “You won’t believe the day I’ve had,” she announced, setting her purse on the counter and taking a seat. “I’ve basically screwed up majorly with Frank and Benjamin both.”
As quickly as the words had come out of her mouth, she wished she could suck them back in.
Benjamin stood up from the booth he had been sitting in, which had unwittingly hidden his personage when Sonja first walked in. “Hi, Sonja.”
The red-faced and frazzled young woman looked from Allison to Benjamin, and back to Alison again. While she gave her friend a distressed look of, ‘why didn’t you tell me he was here?’ Ally could only simply shrug her shoulders.
“Sonja?” Benjamin implored.
Sonja couldn’t bear to look at the man standing next to her. Instead, she stared into the abyss that was the silver, reflective napkin dispenser.
Finally, after a few moments of awkwardness, Ally jumped in. “He helped me load everything up into the van and unload it again. I was actually just about to drive him back to his car.”
Sonja nodded, “I see.”
“Well, I guess I better get you back to your car,” Alison insisted, grabbing her keys.
Looking up, both Sonja and Benjamin gave her incredulous stares.
“I haven’t finished the shake you made,” Benjamin said, obviously making an excuse to stay.
“It was hot after we got back to the shop, so ice cream sounded like a good idea.”
“Maybe you should give us a minute?” Benjamin suggested, nodding to Ally.
“Right,” she replied. “I’ll just go get gas in the van.”
Part of Sonja suddenly felt extremely anxious, wanted to call out to her friend and tell her to come back. The other part realized that this was her chance to potentially patch things up with Benjamin.
“Well, I’ll see you guys a bit later.” Turning to leave, Ally almost made it to the door when she was stopped dead in her tracks by Corrie Bennett—who had simply barged in thanks to Sonja leaving the door unlocked.
“Ah, I’m glad I caught you,” Corrie declared as she stepped in, basically pushing Alison back toward the dining area.
“Great,” Sonja mumbled under her breath. This was the last thing she needed today, right when she was just about to have a chance to talk to Benjamin alone again. Things in her life were just getting too hectic for her own good.
“What can we do for you?” Alison asked, taking the initiative—despite sounding a little snippy.
“I found this at your booth,” she held up a silver dollar waffle iron. “I guess you must have accidentally left it behind at the community center. I figured you’d want it back.”
Ally’s jaw dropped in shock.
Sighing, she instantly felt ashamed for thinking so many angry thoughts about Corrie. “Thanks for going out of your way to bring it to us,” Sonja responded, taking the waffle iron from the woman’s arms. “We really appreciate it.”
“Yes, we’re very grateful,” Alison said, the first hint of penance and sincerity in her voice ever for Corrie Bennett.
“You’re very welcome, ladies.” Turning around, Corrie headed for the door but stopped before she got there. Turning back toward the women she spoke, a second agenda on her mind. “While I’m here, do you mind paying for the sign that we printed for your booth?”
Ally scowled, knowing Corrie’s friendly visit was too good to be true. “Okay,” she replied, spitting through her teeth and attempting to keep a smile plastered on her face. “How much do we owe you?” It was clear that Alison ultimately was trying to get Corrie out the door again so Benjamin and Sonja could have their moment together, otherwise, Sonja highly doubted her friend would just roll over and pay some random overhead sum that had never been discussed. While Alison enjoyed working with people at the diner, she was first and foremost a businesswoman—and a darn good one at that.
“It cost thirty dollars,” the woman replied, holding out her hand expectantly.
“No,” Sonja interjected. She couldn’t stand by while her friend and business partner just shelled out thirty dollars for a hidden booth cost they had never been told about, no matter how urgently she wished to speak with Benjamin.
“Excuse me?” Corrie said, turning toward Sonja
“I said ‘no.’ We won’t be paying you for the sign.”
Corrie’s eyes widened to the size of dinner plates and her jaw dropped about a mile to the ground. “I see,” Corrie retorted condescendingly.
“Was it listed in the paperwork we signed for the booth?” Sonja asked calmly.
The woman hesitated. “I don’t think so.”
“Then we have no obligation to pay for it,” she replied.
Ally, for the first time all day, had pity in her eyes—obviously worried about her business partners strong at
tack of the woman. “Sonja, let’s just pay her for the sign,” she pleaded.
“No, no,” Corrie called, her face red with embarrassment. Flustering over her words, the woman moved slowly back toward the door. “That isn’t necessary. I’ll . . . I’ll just cover the cost myself.” She took another step back, wobbling on her high heel.
“Watch out,” Ally cried, but it was too late. The woman’s heel caught on the edge of a floor tile and sent her toppling backward. Reaching out, she grabbed a hold of Benjamin—who happened to be close enough—on the way down. Not expecting the sudden new addition of unbalanced weight, the large man went down with her.
Corrie’s purse burst open and a random assortment of papers, pocket tissues, mints, change, and other small items went skidding across the floor. Instantly, part of Sonja felt bad for having goaded the woman.
“Oh my gosh, are you okay?” Sonja asked as she ran over.
“I . . . I think I’m alright,” Corrie muttered, putting out a hand for Sonja to grab. Instead—Sonja found herself pulling up Benjamin.
Alison ran over to help Corrie off the ground. “Let me help you.”
“I’m fine,” she sputtered, leaning on Ally to help her up.
“Thanks,” Benjamin replied, smiling at Sonja again. She had to admit, it felt pretty good to have him smiling at her.
Alison got down and began to pick up the items that had fallen out of the purse, and Sonja and Benjamin quickly followed suit—each trying to gather up the items and deposit them in the purse.
Sonja held out the bag. “Here you go. Hope you’re alright.”
Hair tusseled about and face still flushed, Corrie didn’t look Sonja in the eye. “I’ll be alright,” she grunted, shuffling toward the door. “Sorry I bothered you.” Turning, the woman slinked out the front door.
“Great,” Ally commented. “Now we’ve embarrassed her.”
“I guess so,” Sonja agreed.
“I didn’t like her, but I would never want to hurt her,” Ally replied.
Sonja felt ashamed of her actions. Corrie was probably just so used to getting her way that when someone finally stood up to her she became a flustered mess.
The women’s conversation was interrupted by Benjamin’s cell phone ringing. Reaching into his pocket he quickly answered it. “Hello?” He walked to the other side of the store to talk privately.
“You know, Sonj’! I’ve never seen that side of you.”
“I think I developed it just today,” Sonja admitted, slumping her shoulders.
“Come on, Sonj’. We can all be a little catty sometimes. If we were docile, feminine women all the time, life would get pretty boring.”
“I guess you’re right,” Sonja replied.
Benjamin ended his call and walked back over toward the two women. “I’ve got to take off,” he commented. “That was Mr. Hinkley. He needs me out at the farm right away.”
Sonja felt her heart sink into the pit of her stomach. How could she be missing her chance again? She secretly cursed Corrie Bennett for her unwarranted interruption.
“Alright,” Ally replied. “Sonja can drive you back to the community center.”
“No, better not,” Benjamin replied. “Let’s go,” he nodded to Ally as he walked toward the back door.
Alison shrugged at her friend before following.
Suddenly, Sonja noticed a brown leather wallet laying on the ground. Benjamin most likely dropped it when he fell down.
Dashing across the tile, Sonja and picked up the wallet and made her way to the back door. “You forgot your wallet!” she called, but it was too late. The van was pulling out onto the street.
Sighing heavily, she sauntered back into the diner, figuring she should start to get things ready for when they opened for dinner at five.
Setting the wallet on the counter, she realized there was a piece of folded paper stuck to the bottom. Pulling the paper free, Sonja examined it—it was a note—a love note.
CHAPTER 13
Carefully, shakily, Sonja began to read the haphazardly scribbled words on the wrinkled paper.
“I have to come clean with you,” it read. “I find you extremely attractive—both physically and emotionally. You are a comfort in a time of hardship and distress. Seeing you each day like this gives me a rush of joy like I haven’t felt in many years.”
Her heart thundering anxiously in her chest, her hands wet from perspiration, Sonja tried to drink in everything she was reading.
“Unfortunately, I don’t think I can come to a position where I can make this relationship work,” the letter went on. Sonja instantly felt her heart drop like lead into a bucket of water. “I simply can’t get over my past, over my mistakes, over my lies—over my previous love.”
Previous love? Benjamin had a previous hidden love? Now it made sense to Sonja why Benjamin would respond poorly to her earlier comments in front of her mother. He probably felt rejected all over again.
“I can no longer see you, nor do I want to. I’m afraid this is goodbye. I ask you to please forgive me and think of me fondly whenever you read this letter in the future.”
The letter ended there, as if coming abruptly to stop, as if he had been interrupted while writing the letter.
Quickly grabbing the wallet, she flipped open, just to make sure it was actually Benjamin’s. The first thing she spotted was his driver’s license. This was definitely his wallet—which could only mean the letter was truly his, something he had probably carried in his pocket until he could finally hand it off to Sonja.
Retreating into the bathroom in the back of the diner, the she allowed herself to cry.
* * *
The evening at the diner dragged on seemingly without end. From time to time, while standing over the waffle irons or the griddle, Sonja thought of the letter. At one moment she retreated to the bathroom or office to reread the words printed there, just to make sure she had read it correctly.
Despite being hurtful, she somehow relished the letter—indulged in the written words.
At one point Ally asked her what was wrong, to talk to her about what she was thinking—feeling even.
Sonja simply replied with an “I’m alright,” or “I’m fine,” and moved on from the subject. She was willing to talk about Benjamin, wanted to even, but not just yet. She needed time to process what she was feeling and to process it in correlation with everything else that had happened there that day.
On more than one occasion her thoughts were also directed toward Sheriff Thompson . . . to Frank—someone who she had never considered dating before. She had quickly become friends with the sheriff after her return to Haunted Falls. Could it really ever be something more than that?
Suddenly, the age gap of seven years seemed like far less of a big deal.
Gently clutching the letter in her hands, she ran her fingers over the paper and over the slightly raised ink of the lettering. The paper was flimsy and more malleable than earlier—considering she had touched it so many times throughout the evening.
Taking a deep breath, she folded the letter closed until it was no more than a small square in her hands.
“Are you okay?” a quiet voice inquired from the doorway of the small office. Ally stood there, drying her hands on a towel and leaning against the door jam.
Leaning over, Sonja fed the piece of folded paper through the shredder. Listening to the jaws of the machine eat up its latest meal, she let her feelings disappear with the letter.
Looking back up at her friend, she smiled. “I’m good now.”
* * *
Finally arriving back at home around ten in the evening, Sonja noticed all the lights were off in her mother’s house. Deciding to forgo patching things up with her mom tonight, she walked around to the small guest house and walked in, turning on the light.
She tossed her purse on the desk to her computer, suddenly remembering the SD card buried in her pocket. The day had been filled with so much chaos that she had almost forgotten ab
out the whole murder case.
However, with the new information she had gathered from both Shamus and Carl, she was more curious than ever about what sort of scandal could be driving the murder.
Eagerly sitting down, Sonja took a seat at her computer and slid the SD card into the slot, careful not to touch the large flat sides of the item, and praying that it still worked—despite the condition it appeared to be in.
It took a moment for the computer to boot up, but when it did she opened her file browser. The computer made a light whirring sound as a green bar appeared on the screen, indicating it was attempting to read the card. “Please work, please work, please work,” she whispered. The screen came up with an error, stating it was unable to read the card. Sonja hit the “retry” button and waited. Again, after watching the green loading bar for a few seconds the screen came up with the same error. Deciding she would try it one more time before calling it quits and handing it over to the police, she clicked the retry button. After a few seconds, the little icon appeared with a list of folders—indicating the computer had read the device after all.
“Thank goodness.”
Clicking on the icon, she opened the folder. Displayed before her was a list of image hundreds of image files, all of which were from the day’s picnic. She instantly recognized the pictures from her booth, her and Ally standing there smiling, images of her handing waffles to Shamus, of talking to Lincoln—all those moments caught in static frames—preserved here on the memory card.
This could only mean one thing—whoever had been near the dumpster that day and had dropped the memory card, or maybe purposefully dumped it in the bin—had to be one of two people, Benjamin or Samuel Hawkins.
Sonja instantly thought of the letter she had shredded. “I simply can’t get over my past, over my mistakes, over my lies.” She prayed that the murder, this SD card and the letter weren’t connected. She had to talk to Samuel Hawkins first—before she jumped to conclusions.
Sonja instantly knew she would need to make a phone call, one she dreaded to make. She needed to call Corrie Bennett and ask for Samuel Hawkins contact information.
The Wayward Waffle: Book 4 in The Diner of the Dead Series Page 9
