Carolyn Q. Hunter - Thanksgiving Waffle Murder

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Thanksgiving Waffle Murder

A Wicked Waffle Paranormal Cozy

Book 3

By

Carolyn Q. Hunter

Copyright 2017 Summer Prescott Books

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**This book is a work of fiction. Any similarities to persons, living or dead, places of business, or situations past or present, is completely unintentional.

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THANKSGIVING WAFFLE MURDER

A Wicked Waffle Paranormal Cozy

Book 3

PROLOGUE

P lease, Shamus. Just leave me alone, Agatha Winn insisted as she descended the narrow servants staircase in the back of the house. She wore the traditional black and white maid uniform and had a deep rosiness in her cheeksa result of having just spent the last two hours cleaning the game room. Reaching the manors kitchen, she turned on a dime to face her pursuer. I said to go away, she demanded again, seeing the dark-haired young mandressed in the traditional clothes of a footmanwalking down the steps after her.

Agatha, why wont you just listen to me? he begged, following her into the warm kitchen, which was lit by low burning oil lamps. The large brick oven built into the basement wall gave off heat that warded off the late autumn chill.

Im not interested in marrying you, and thats that. Picking up a fresh cloth rag, she began to instinctively wipe down the counters.

Cant you listen to reason? he demanded, planting his hands on the counter and splaying his fingers. He was breathing heavily, his eyes slightly red with tears.

I already told you, Shamus, there is nothing between us anymore and there never will be again. She refrained from mentioning his volatile temperament or the many wild weekends he spent at the tiny tavern in town, knowing that they would send him into spiraling further downward. In this type of situation, hed either collapse into tears, burst into a yelling fit, or both.

Tell me, please. What did I do?

She shook her head. I used to love you, but not anymore. I know now you can never change.

In the next instant, she saw how his nostrils flared and his face gushed a pinkish red hue. Listen to me, he demanded, taking a step toward her. The desperation in his voice, his desire for her to love him, was overwhelming.

She quickly moved around the kitchens island where a dish of pre-chopped vegetables sat. Shed worked on those earlier that day in order to make her job and the cooks easier when it came time to make the Thanksgiving feast. Theres no time. I have to prepare the turkey for this evenings supper.

You can make time for me. Im your fianc, he barked.

Leave me alone, this instant, she retorted, a slight squeak of fear in her voice. While shed always been afraid of his temper, never before had he laid a hand on her. The footman wasnt necessarily the largest member of the household, but he towered over the small maid.

I said go away.

Youre going to listen to reason, he prattled on desperately, the spray of his warm breath wafting on her cheeks.

No, leave me be. I dont want anything to do with you. I told you, its over, she squealed, the horror of the situation resting firmly on her conscience.

Who else would ever marry you? I love you.

Reaching out with a desperate hand and clawing around the counter, the maid searched for somethinganything. Feeling an all too familiar wooden handle, attached to the knife shed used to chop vegetables, she gripped onto it with her entire force of will. She didnt want to hurt the footman, just scare him off. However, bringing up the blade quickly, the swing caught the man on the arm.

The footman screamed out, stumbling back into the counter clutching his wounded arm.

Agatha knew she should run, get out of the kitchen and find the cook, the master, anyone, but she found herself worrying about the footman. Oh, my goodness. Im so sorry. I didnt mean to do that.

Pulling his hand away from his arm, Shamus eyes widened as he saw the spatter of blood on his palm. His arm had a clear and distinct lash running across it. It wasnt very big or long, but it was there. Youre going to regret that, he whispered threateningly.

I didnt mean to. A burst of strength erupted in Agathas body and she turned to run, but it was too late. Like a freight train barreling through the night, the footman knocked the knife from her hand. It clattered to the floor, useless to the maid now.

Agh, no! she screamed at the top of her lungs, hoping to all goodness that someone in the house would hear her pleas.

Shamus held her wrist. You will be mine, forever.

Her eyes widened in horror as he reached out and grabbed a length of twine from the counter, something the cook had used to truss up the turkey. No, please no. What are you going to do?

Why did you have to do this? he whispered.

Letting go of her arm temporarily, he tightened the cord between his hands.

Agatha wanted to turn, to run away. It was no use. Shamus slowly came toward her with the cord as she let out one final scream.

CHAPTER 1

S onja Reed sat up screaming, completely covered in her own sweat. The burning sensation around her neck, on her skin, subsided, as did the image of the jilted lover.

It took her a good twenty seconds to fully realize what shed been experiencing had been little more than a ridiculously realistic and lucid nightmarelike nothing shed ever experienced before.

Breathing heavily and attempting to calm her racing heart, which felt like it just might fly away and drag her along with it, she glanced around the darkness of her bedroom. The dream world melted further and further away, disintegrating into the ether as reality began to set in. Much to her relief, she was in her cottage home on the Smith Estateof which she was caretaker.

A nightmare, she whispered to herself. Nothing but a nightmare.

However, something inside her knew better. As experience has taught her, she became aware that there was more to what shed just seen than a simple night terror. Due to her clairvoyant capabilitiessomething that was still a secret to most of her family and friendsshe often had ghostly dreams.

But nothing like what shed just seen and felt.

This time, it was almost as if she were experiencing someone elses memories. She had felt the death of the woman. The poor, helpless maid.

What was her name? Agatha?