Wine and Punishment Page 25

  “Of all the nerve!”

  Twenty-one-year-old Tommy Park poked his head out the pass-through window to the kitchen. “What’s up?” he asked.

  I waved the crumpled flyers. “Wally the Waffle King strikes again.”

  The kitchen door swung open and Ivan appeared. Tommy ducked away from the window and came through the door a second later.

  “These were taped to the front window,” I said, waving the flyers again.

  Ivan grabbed one and glowered at the piece of paper. While an intimidating scowl was the chef’s typical expression, this one was far darker than usual.

  “He’s rubbing your nose in it,” he declared, crumpling the flyer as his large hand closed into a fist.

  Tommy took the other flyer from me. “Totally not cool.”

  “It’s one thing to open up a waffle house that will compete directly with us,” I said, “but it’s hitting a new low by plastering the ads all over the front of this place.”

  “He’s trying to get under your skin.” Ivan tossed the crumpled flyer toward the wastepaper basket, making a perfect shot.

  “But why? Does he really think annoying us will get us to close up shop so all our business goes his way?”

  “Not going to happen,” Tommy said.

  “Definitely not,” I agreed. “But why else try to aggravate us?”

  “Probably for fun,” Ivan said. “Some people enjoy riling others up.”

  “That’s true.” I’d learned that firsthand several months back when a bitter and vengeful woman had tried to make my life miserable.

  “And I hear Wally Fowler’s a slimeball,” Tommy said. “I’m not sure anyone in town actually likes him.”

  Ivan nodded his agreement. “Wildwood Cove would be better off without him.”

  If enough people believed that, maybe I had nothing to worry about. The townsfolk weren’t likely to give the self-proclaimed Waffle King their business if they despised him.

  “I guess it’s best to ignore him and focus on keeping our customers happy, like we always do,” I decided.

  “Sounds like a plan.” With a flick of his wrist, Tommy sent the second flyer arcing into the trash can.

  He returned to the kitchen and Ivan followed after him, his scowl as dark as ever. Was he more worried about the new waffle house than he was letting on? With his bulging muscles, numerous tattoos, and dark, intense eyes, Ivan wasn’t one to be easily fazed. But something in his face led me to believe he was taking the potential problem posed by Wally and his waffle house very seriously.

  My worries tried to resurface, but I forced them back down, focusing on starting a fire in the stone fireplace to keep myself busy. The Flip Side would be fine, I told myself. It was a well-established restaurant, with a solid and loyal customer base that loved Ivan’s cooking and the cozy atmosphere.

  Surely it would take more than Wally the Waffle King to destroy what we had here. After all, how much damage could one man cause?

  * * *

  About an hour after opening, the pancake house was getting busy. The town was waking up, the residents heading out to brave the weather, some of them ending up at The Flip Side. All of the tables near the cheery, crackling fire had been claimed, the welcoming warmth of the flames drawing in the customers as they escaped the cold and the rain. On my way around the restaurant to offer refills of coffee, I paused to talk with two of The Flip Side’s most loyal and reliable customers, Gary and Ed. They were lifelong residents of Wildwood Cove and had been best friends since they were five years old. Now retired, they split most of their time between the pancake house, the local seniors’ activity center, and the bowling alley.

  “What do you know about this Waffle Kingdom that’s opening up next week, Marley?” Ed asked.

  “I’ve heard the self-proclaimed Waffle King grew up here in Wildwood Cove,” I said. “But other than that, I really don’t know anything more than what’s on those flyers he’s spread around town.”

  “A waste of paper, if you ask me,” Gary spoke up as he poured maple syrup over his stack of pancakes. “Why would anyone eat there when they could come here? It’s not like anyone can compete with Ivan’s cooking.”

  I smiled. “Hopefully you’re not the only ones who feel that way.”

  “We’re not,” Ed assured me. “And I don’t think it’ll much matter to people that Wally grew up in Wildwood Cove. He’s been away for years, and he wasn’t good for much when he was here.”

  “I’ve yet to run across a fan of his,” I said, topping up the coffee mugs.

  Gary chewed on a forkful of pancakes. “Adam Silvester was buddies with Wally back in the day, but I don’t know if they stayed in touch. And there’s his sister, Vicky, of course. Half-sister, technically. But aside from those two, I’m not sure if anyone’s much keen on Wally. People around here have long memories.”

  I wasn’t sure what he meant by that, but I needed to move along and see to other customers.

  “I guess we’ll have to see what happens when the waffle house opens,” I said, happy that I managed to sound unconcerned.

  “You’ll never find us over there, that’s for sure,” Ed declared. He lowered his voice. “Unless you want us to go undercover to do some recon.”

  I couldn’t help but smile again. “I doubt that will be necessary, but thank you.”

  Gary saluted me with his coffee mug. “You can count on us, Marley.”

  Cheered by their support, I thanked them again and moved on to the next table.

  The breakfast rush kept me and Leigh—The Flip Side’s full-time waitress—busy for the next hour or so, but I eventually found time to slip into the kitchen and make myself a cup of tea.

  “Are you going to the ladies’ night at the hardware store tonight, Marley?” Leigh asked as she pushed through the kitchen door, bringing a load of dirty dishes with her.

  “I’m planning on it. Are you?”

  “No, I’ll be looking after the kids. Greg’s working at the store tonight.”

  I took a cautious sip of my hot tea. “I can’t help but be amused that ladies’ night at the hardware store is an actual thing.”

  “It’s a tradition,” Ivan said as he flipped pancakes on the griddle.

  “It’s true,” Leigh confirmed. “The store’s been holding this event for more than ten years now. I know it might sound a bit odd at first, but it’s really popular. And good fun too. Aside from having things on sale, they have door prizes, demos, samples to give away, and really good food.”

  “Free food?” Tommy said as he drizzled melted chocolate over a plate of crêpes. “Are you sure your husband can’t sneak me in?”

  “Sorry, Tommy,” Leigh said with a smile. “You’ll have to wait for Customer Appreciation Day in the spring.” She returned her attention to me. “It’s a good chance for you to get some Christmas shopping done. Maybe you’ll find something for Brett.”

  “Maybe,” I said, “but he probably already owns at least one of everything the store has for sale.” My boyfriend had his own lawn and garden care company, and during the winters he helped out with his dad’s home renovation business. He had a whole workshop full of tools behind his house. “I might get something for myself, though. I’ll need a few things if I’m going to make a garden in the spring.”

  “Don’t forget to try the mini cupcakes while you’re there,” Leigh advised. “Greg already knows he’s supposed to smuggle one home for me.”

  She disappeared through the swinging door. I drank down my tea and followed after her a few minutes later. I spent some time in the office between the breakfast and lunch rushes, but then I was back out at the front of the house helping Leigh.

  I carried a plate of bacon cheddar waffles over to a man I’d seen in The Flip Side three or four times before. Prior to that morning, I hadn’t known anything about him aside from his name—Adam Silvester—but thanks to my chat with Ed and Gary earlier, I now knew he had once been friends with Wally Fowler.

  Th
ere wasn’t anything about Adam that screamed or even whispered lowlife, but maybe I had a distorted view of Wally. Even if I didn’t, the fact that Adam had been buddies with Wally back in high school didn’t mean he was a bad guy. They weren’t necessarily friends any longer, and I couldn’t say that I’d always picked the best people for friends when I was a teenager.

  As far as I remembered, I’d only ever seen Adam at The Flip Side on his own. While he was always polite, he kept mostly to himself, gazing out the window as he ate or reading the latest issue of the town’s local newspaper. That was what he was doing today, perusing the articles as he started in on his waffles.

  I cleared up the neighboring table and carried the dirty dishes into the kitchen before delivering mocha mascarpone crêpes and blueberry crumble pancakes to hungry customers. I glanced out the window on my way back to the kitchen, noting that the rain had stopped and the sun was attempting to peek through the clouds. As I was leaving the dining area for the kitchen, the front door opened, admitting three new arrivals—two men and a woman. I didn’t alter my path.

  Leigh darted through the kitchen door behind me, grabbing my arm.

  “That’s him!” she said in an urgent whisper.

  “Him who?” I asked as I set down two dirty coffee mugs.

  “Wally Fowler,” Leigh said, keeping her voice low. “The so-called Waffle King.”

  “He’s here?” Ivan’s question boomed across the kitchen. “Why?”

  “I don’t know, but I guess we’ll find out.” Leigh hurried out of the kitchen.

  I followed right on her heels, ready to finally meet Wally the Waffle King.

  Sarah Fox is the author of the Music Lover’s Mystery series and the USA Today bestselling Pancake House Mystery series. When not writing novels or working as a legal writer, she can often be found reading her way through a stack of books or spending time outdoors with her English Springer Spaniel. Sarah lives in British Columbia and is a member of Crime Writers of Canada. Visit her online at AuthorSarahFox.com.