Halloween Waffle Murder

by Carolyn Q. Hunter

  As a result, the room took on a somewhat morbid atmosphere. The orange and black decorations, the fake cobwebs cloaked over everything, and the somber faces of the guests gave off an image that looked like a bunch of long-dead ghosts who had lost their will to participate in the eternal party.

  For her first big Halloween party, this sure was a disaster.

  As Sonja walked across the room, she tried to smile at the guests to keep their spirits up until they could get everything worked out.

  Alison came over to her. “I’ve told everyone they’ll have someplace to sleep tonight,” she noted, holding up the list of room assignments, “and they all seem to feel a little safer and happier knowing that, but they’re getting anxious waiting.”

  “I wish I had more to tell you, but Frank is still working on things. Once he gives the okay, we’ll divide everyone up to go their respective rooms for the night.”

  “Sounds good to me. Did you find anything while you were searching?”

  “I can’t say yet,” she noted, not wanting word to get around about the clues they had found. If the killer really was among the party guests, she didn’t want any of them catching wind that they were getting slightly closer to figuring it out.

  “So, you did find something?” Alison asserted with a sly smile. “You really are the master sleuth, aren’t you?”

  “I think that is a bit of an overstatement,” she said, focusing her eyes on her father across the room. “I’ve gotta talk to my dad.” With the determination of a tiger out for its prey, she charged over to him.

  “Are you all right, dear?” her mother asked upon seeing the strained expression on her daughter’s face.

  “I need to talk to you,” she insisted, pointing at her father. “Now.”

  The lines on his face deepened, a sign that he’d been caught. Sonja just prayed that he wasn’t so involved in something that he couldn’t get himself back out.

  “Are you sure you’re okay, Sonj’?” her mother asked again.

  “It’s okay, hon. I’ll talk to her,” Sonja’s father said with a hint of comfort to his wife.

  Sonja motioned for him to follow and they walked over to a somewhat quieter and secluded corner of the room behind the refreshment table which had been mostly picked clean at this point. People had obviously continued to eat while they waited, which was just fine. The peanut butter cup waffles were completely gone.

  “Sonja, I know what you’re thinking.”

  “Do you?” she asked honestly, trying to keep her voice low as to not alert anyone else.

  “You might be jumping to conclusions,” he pointed out.

  Sonja sighed, realizing he was right. She needed to take this conversation, and the entire investigation, one baby step at a time. Letting out a whoosh of air from her lungs, she calmed herself enough to ease into what she wanted to ask. “Okay, then. I just had a strange experience over in the cottage, and I can’t help but wonder if it is somehow connected to the murder.”

  Her father folded his arms, playing out the situation to see just where she was going with this, or if she was even on target. “What do you mean?”

  “Let me start at the beginning of my thought process.”

  “Okay?”

  Without thinking, she picked up a chocolate covered rice treat and took a big bite out of it. She hadn’t eaten anything all night and the sugary marshmallow taste was comforting—almost as if it were giving her the strength to continue this conversation. “First off, earlier this evening I saw a strange man I didn’t recognize and am pretty sure I didn’t invite him to this party.”

  “The man in the green costume?”

  “That’s right,” she agreed, taking another bite. “Then, I saw you talking to him.”

  “I just wanted to ask how he knew you since I didn’t recognize him either.”

  Sonja pursed her lips with a hint of irritation. “But it looked like a far more serious conversation than the one you claim it to be,” she pointed out. “It almost looked like you two were disagreeing about something.”

  Putting his hands on his hips, her father sighed, looking down at his feet.

  She instantly knew by that reaction that she was on the right track, which didn’t make her feel very comfortable.

  “After that, I found the same man dead in the tower upstairs. Stranger yet, as soon as I stepped over the strange rune circle on the floor in that room, I passed out.” She tapped her foot anxiously as she led up to the big finish of her thought process. “Now, I’ve never been the sort of woman with a weak disposition. I know how to take care of myself,” she paused, mulling over the words in her mind, “and yet somehow I still passed out.”

  “Maybe you just hadn’t eaten enough today,” her father offered, trying to divert her away from her current train of thought.

  “I don’t think so, Dad. The more I look back on it, the more I believe that something supernatural occurred up in that tower.” She leaned in closer. “And now I think am beginning to understand what it might have been.”

  She paused, swallowing back a lump in her throat.

  “I asked Belinda about it, and she agrees.”

  Her father sighed and gave a nod that she was correct. “You said something happened in the cottage?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you believe it is related to the circle in the tower?”

  “Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying. I can’t help but feel you may have some insight into what’s happening to me.”

  Her father hesitated but finally said what was pressing on his mind. “You can’t see Misty anymore, can you?” he asked.

  Misty had been his cat when the animal was alive and he himself had been the one to give her the pet ghost as a gift one Christmas after he had revealed his own ability to work with spirits.

  In a way, Misty’s spirit was bonded with his daughter’s.

  Sonja blinked back tears, realizing what she’d guessed was correct. “So, you knew it this whole time?”

  “It isn’t exactly what you think.”

  “Why are my paranormal abilities fading? I don’t understand,” she asked for answers through a chocked voice.

  He put his arm around her. “Come on. I’ll tell you, but I think Frank needs to hear this, too.”

  Chapter Eleven

  In the library again, Frank and Sonja’s father sat on chairs while she sat on the chaise lounge. “Are you telling me you lied about knowing the victim?” Frank asked, his tone firm but unhappy.

  “Not exactly. I had never met the man until this evening.”

  “But?” Frank pushed, his eyes grim, waiting for an answer to all the chaos that had invaded his wife’s Halloween party. Sonja could see in her husband’s eyes that sense of protectiveness, but what was different this time is it was directed toward her own father.

  It was the little things, like the fact that Sonja had put in hours of work planning the event, buying the perfect decorations, and researching tasty recipes. Frank felt great pride in the way his wife worked hard for the little things—to make life that much happier with a touch of celebration and a hint of cozy comforts.

  Someone had ruined that tonight.

  On top of that, it was possible that his wife’s life had been threatened. Between the omen from earlier, the body turning up, and the suspicion that it all revolved around Sonja somehow created a fiery passion within Frank to keep his beloved safe.

  “You better tell me the truth now,” he insisted.

  “Frank, maybe take it back a notch?” Sonja suggested, feeling a bit self-conscious about the situation. “I want to hear this as much as, if not more so, than you do. Let’s just let my dad talk,” she suggested.

  She already felt on edge and Frank’s aggressive nature wasn’t helping.

  He looked at his wife with a deep breath. “Okay.” His eyes fell back on her father. “Go ahead.”

  Slouching forward, Sonja’s father clasped his hands together. “First off, I had nothing to d
o with the murder nor did I know that there was going to be a murder.”

  “No one is accusing you of anything like that, Dad,” Sonja said comfortingly. While she was concerned about her father’s involvement in what was happening to her supernatural sensitivity, she still could never believe he was capable of murder.

  “No, of course not,” he agreed, making a sideways glance at his son-in-law.

  “Go on. How did you know the victim?” Frank asked, attempting to keep his voice low and calm.

  “He was a private eye I contacted,” he finally admitted.

  Sonja furrowed her brow. “You hired a PI? What for?” she asked. “And why did he have a printed off picture of me?”

  He put up his hands, quietly asking for patience. “You have to understand, there is more to it. He wasn’t just a private detective.”

  Sonja swallowed hard. She had a good idea where this was going. “Was he . . . a warlock?”

  Her father hesitated but nodded.

  “Hold on a minute? You invited a warlock here to our town?” Frank burst out with aggravation. “After all the horror we went through with those witches in the past?”

  “It isn’t what you think. You see, he was a private eye who specialized in paranormal investigations. Specifically, he helped protect people from practitioners of black magic.”

  “You hired someone to protect me?” Sonja asked, finding herself slightly offended.

  “You know that omen from this morning?” he asked.

  “The chandelier falling?”

  “Well, I’ve seen other omens happening around you for the past few months. I began to suspect something dark headed our way… your way.”

  Sonja folded her arms. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

  “I didn’t want to worry you.”

  “You can’t be serious?” Sonja groaned.

  “However, in the end, I realized that perhaps if you didn’t have the same paranormal ability as I do, maybe these dark things would stop heading your direction.”

  Sonja’s jaw dropped wide open. “Y-You hired him to take away my sixth sense?” she gasped.

  “Not take it away, just sort of put a stopper on it—like a cork in a bottleneck.”

  She was instantly on her feet, her face red with hurt and fury all at the same time. “I can’t believe you. Why wouldn’t you just talk to me about these things first?”

  “That’s just it, I know that now.”

  “That’s what the private eye was for?” she went on in her rant. “To do some sort of magic to keep me from seeing ghosts any longer?”

  He nodded. “And that’s why you saw us arguing. You see, I called him to learn more about what services he provided. I sent him some info on you and your situation.”

  “You sent a stranger my wife’s picture and address? Are you nuts?” Frank cut in.

  “I had done extensive research on him and felt confident in his practices,” he defended himself. He had spent a large portion of his life traveling the country to stop witches and demons. Only he would know how to find a reputable warlock. “Also, I didn’t ask him to come yet. Technically, I hadn’t employed his services.”

  “You’re saying he just showed up?” Sonja wondered.

  “That’s what I’m saying. I was shocked to see him here tonight. That’s why you saw me confronting him. In doing his own research, he’d caught wind of the party tonight and felt it was a perfect time since the moon is nearly full.”

  “And what did you say to him?” Sonja begged.

  “I told him that I wasn’t interested in his services any longer. I didn’t want him to take away your powers. It also convinced me that I needed to talk to you first before doing anything so drastic.”

  “No kidding,” Frank grunted.

  “In any case, he’d already begun to set up in the tower without anyone knowing. I told him to head right back up to the tower and get rid of it and get out of here.”

  Sonja sat back down. “That was when someone killed him.”

  “It seems so,” Frank admitted, taking in the story and applying it to the knowledge of the evening. Sonja glanced at him and could see in her husband’s eyes a sense of relief. While it was obviously inappropriate to go behind her back, Frank seemed content that perhaps her powers were gone for good.

  “Then, I went upstairs looking for him because Alison mentioned that a party guest had gone up there.”

  “Which is when you found the body and stepped over the circle he’d already prepared,” her father confirmed.

  She slumped her shoulders. “And it took effect,” she whispered. After a seconds thought, she was back on her feet again. “Wait a minute. If someone killed him, then they must have known he was a warlock, right?” Sonja asked.

  “I assume so, yes,” her father said.

  “But how? Who is this person? Who knows all the secret passageways in the manor? Who knows this man was a warlock?” she hesitated. “And how is it all connected to me?”

  Frank stood up this time. “I don’t know, but I promise we’re going to find out. However, there can be no more secrets among us at all. If I am going to catch this killer, I need to know everything.”

  “I promise,” Sonja’s father said, making a salute.

  “Good. Now, we should probably start talking to the party guests. You guys head back into the ballroom. I’ll be there in a minute.”

  Walking out of the library, Sonja’s father went first, but as she stepped out behind him, she swore she saw someone slip into a room at the end of the hall. Had someone been listening at the door to their conversation?

  She looked and realized her dad had already disappeared into the ballroom.

  Without taking too much time to think, she decided to head down the hall and have a look. If someone had been eavesdropping, it could very well be a party guest trying to figure out when they would be able to either leave or at least go to bed. On the other hand, she wondered if the person had more sinister intentions.

  Tiptoeing along the red rug, she came to the door in question.

  Waiting for a second, she took a deep breath before throwing the door open and turning on the light of the study. What she saw behind that door shocked her.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Marie?” Sonja gasped, recognizing the police department’s secretary.

  “Oh, Sonja! You startled me,” Marie admitted, smoothing down the feathers on her dress which had gotten all tangled—almost as if she’d been in a hurry and gotten her clothes messed up in the process.

  “What are you doing back here?” she asked, surprised to see her old friend hiding away in the study. She wondered if she’d been mistaken about someone listening at the door of the library.

  “Oh, I was just looking for the bathroom,” she replied.

  Sonja hesitated, furrowing her brow. “Marie, you know where the bathroom is. You’ve been here at the manor before, haven’t you? Back when Belinda lived here she held a town-wide dance.”

  “Oh, well, I forgot, hon. You know, my brain doesn’t quite keep up the way it used to.” She took a seat at the writing desk as if she were out of air. Her make-up, still smudged from earlier (and perhaps even more so now) made her look almost ill.

  “Are you okay? You look like you’re not feeling super well,” Sonja pointed out.

  “I’m just fine, hon. Head back to the ballroom. I’ll be there in a second.”

  Sonja didn’t want to believe that Marie, a generous, funny, and kind woman in her sixties, could be involved in any of the strange occurrences of the evening—but somehow being in the room with her now felt odd. What reason would Marie have for listening at the door? She’d never been much of a busybody, as far as Sonja knew.

  Sure, she was flamboyant and outspoken, but not calculating.

  Heck, Sonja’s own mother was more of a gossip, what with her circle of friends in the knitting and quilting clubs in town. Marie had never much participated in any of that. In fact, Sonja didn’t remember
the woman doing anything but working as a secretary at the department.

  Of course, there were many people whose entire lives consisted of working and then staying in their own home at night. Still, Sonja couldn’t help but feel there was something else going on here.

  “Were you listening to our conversation in the library?” she confronted Marie with the burning question that had been on the tip of her tongue since she entered the room.