Sweet Ginger Poison (7 page)

Virginia is my real name, thought Ginger. Why can’t
Barb either use that or ‘Ginger,’ like everybody else? It reminded her of the
old Andy Griffith Show—the way Barney used to call Andy ‘Ange.’ Ginger wondered
if it irritated Andy.

“Yeah,” said Ginger. “And we still don’t know what
really happened to him.”

“
We?
”said Barb. “ You mean you and the police?”

“The police think it’s
murder
,” said Jane,
almost gleefully.

“No. They don’t know yet,” said Ginger.

“So, now we’ve got a major crime being investigated by
a chief of police who couldn’t shoot his way out of a box of corn flakes,” said
Barb.

“It could have been just an accident,” said Ginger.

“I don’t buy it,” said Barb. “A healthy, sober
24-year-old doesn’t just fall down on the sidewalk and die.”

“How do you know he was sober?” said Ethel.

“Well, it was early in the morning, so I assume…,”
Barb looked at Ginger. “
Was
he sober?”

“I think so,” said Ginger. “Addie didn’t notice
anything unusual about him when he came by the bakery.”

“I heard that he dropped off the coffee cakes and then
ran out to his car and started tearing out the interior,” said Ethel. “Somebody
said it looked like a wild raccoon had ripped the dashboard to shreds.”

“Where did you hear that? No. That’s wrong,” said
Ginger. “He was apparently trying to find something in his glove box, and just
pulled everything out and threw it on the floorboard.”

“What do the police think he was looking for?” said
Barb.

Before Ginger could speak, Jane said, “They don’t
know. But once they figure that out, they’ll understand what happened to him.”

“Who told you that, Jane?” said Barb. “One of your
‘horny hobblers?’

“No,” shouted Jane. “I mean—they didn’t tell me that.
And they’re not horny and they don’t hobble.”

Barb loved to needle Jane about two seventy-something
year-old deputies who often came around flirting with Jane at the diner.

“Well,” said Barb, “if you ever decide to go out with
one of them, you’d better
hope
they’re still horny.”

“Barb,” said Ethel, “quit picking on her.”

“I’m not interested in that,” said Jane. “I just love
a man in uniform.”

“Yeah, uniforms are great,” said Barb. “You can hide a
whole lotta ugly inside one of those things.”

“Well, that was just rude, Barb,” said Ethel.

“I call ‘em like I see ‘em,” said Barb. She threw back
her tea glass and gulped down half of it.

“Well, not that it matters, but I got my information
from two fine,
young
deputies,” said Jane proudly.

“Those boys are greener than Foenapper,” said Barb.
“What we need around here are more veteran officers—men who can command some
respect. All we’ve got is a couple of over-the-hillers and a pack of
skinny-butt pimple-poppers.”

“Well, I’m sure our new mayor will try to get higher
salaries for our deputies,” said Ethel. “Then maybe we can get some men with
more experience.”

“If y’all will allow me to speak,” said Jane, “I’ll
tell you what I found out.” She cleared her throat for the big pronouncement,
and then waited until all eyes were on her. “They found a pair of panties under
his front seat.”

“So? They were probably
his,
” said Barb.

Ethel giggled.

“No, no,” said Jane. “They were
sexy
. Like
something you’d get from Victoria’s Secret.”

“Still could have been his,” said Barb.

“I don’t think so,” said Ginger.

“Why? What do you know?” said Jane.

“Probably nothing,” said Ginger. “Anyway, I don’t want
to talk about it. Let’s change the subject.”

“I’m all for that,” said Ethel. “What’s for dessert?”

Jane jumped in before Ginger could answer. “Coffee
Cake of the Month.”

“Oh, wonderful,” said Ethel.

“Bring it on,” said Barb.

“Okay.” Ginger got up and went into the kitchen.

“What’s it called?” yelled Jane from the breakfast
nook.

“Firecracker Cocoa Cake,” said Ginger.

“What?” yelled Jane.

Ginger would not answer anymore yells. She uncovered
the serving dish and carried it back out to the table, along with four dessert
plates and forks. “It’s called Firecracker Cocoa Cake.”

“Ooh—sounds hot,” said Ethel. “So, it tastes like hot
cocoa?”

“No,” said Ginger, “not at all.”

“Come on, Ethel,” said Barb, “that would be too easy.”

Ginger sat the serving dish in the center of the table
and then placed a dessert plate and fork in front of each of the women. She had
pre-sliced two of the mini-cakes.

They each took a slice and began to eat it.

“It’s not really that hot,” said Ethel. “Oh—I take
that back. It’s getting hotter. In fact, I don’t know if I can—”

“—yes, you can, Ethel,” said Ginger. “Hang on.”

“Okay,” said Ethel. “I see what you mean. It almost
got too hot for me. But not quite. Then it cooled back down a little. How
unusual.”

“And delicious,” said Jane.

“Weird combination of flavors,” said Barb. “But I
really like it.”

“Thanks.” Ginger smiled. Her new recipe had passed the
ultimate test.

Ginger’s cell phone rang. She couldn’t imagine who
would be calling her at 6:30 p.m. She took it out of her pocket and checked the
caller ID. It was an unknown caller.

“Hello? (pause) Oh, hi, Chief.”

The other three women watched with great curiosity.

Jane motioned for Ginger to put him on speakerphone.

Ginger clicked the button. “So, what did you find out
from the medical examiner?”

“He’s not finished. They apparently had a rash of
suspicious deaths in Longview last night. So, Navy’s been waiting his turn.
I’ve got one of my deputies down there. He was supposed to call me when they
were getting close to Navy. But he took a quick dinner break, and when he got
back they were almost done with him.”

“I see. Well, do you know
anything
yet?”

“Yeah. Are you at home?”

Ginger was puzzled. “Yes.”

“Good. I want you to ride down to Longview with me.”

“Right now?” She looked at her guests.

“Yes. I’m on my way.”

Was he coming from his office? If so, he would be
there in less than a minute. “Why do you want
me
to go? What did you
find out?”

“Well, from what my deputy told me, it sounds like
they found some kind of poison in Navy’s body. And we know he ate one of your
coffee cakes, so—”

“—how do you know
that?
”

“We found a cellophane wrapper on the front seat of
his car. The label said ‘Sweet Ginger Cake.’”

Ethel stared at her empty dessert dish and gulped. She
looked at Barb and then at Jane. Clearly, they were all having the same
thoughts: (1) There was no way that their dear friend would try to poison them
(2) But under the circumstances, would it be considered bad manners to barf up
their dessert?

“You’re way over the speed limit.” Ginger glared at
Chief Foenapper.

He glanced to the right and caught a glimpse of her
steely eyes in the lights of an oncoming car. “Afraid I’ll get a ticket? Not
gonna happen in
this
car.”

If it hadn’t been for the seat belt restraining her,
she would have slapped him upside his smart aleck head and stomped on the
brake. This couldn’t be good for her blood pressure.

Ginger took a slow deep breath, and then spoke calmly.
“It’s only a twenty-minute drive at normal speed. What’s the big rush? He’s
already dead.”

“The mayor wants this case solved quickly,” he blurted
out, and then looked as if he wished he hadn’t said it.

“Oh. The
mayor
wants
it solved quickly.”
Now she understood perfectly. This is why Mayor Kassle wanted his old buddy for
chief of police—to be his lap dog. “So, what are you thinking—that I put poison
in my coffee cakes? That’s crazy.”

“No, of course not. You wouldn’t stay in business long
if you started poisoning your customers,” he chuckled.

“Then could you please tell me why you interrupted my
evening for this? You know I had nothing to do with Navy’s death, so why do you
need me to go with you to see the medical examiner?”

“I thought you were interested in this case.”

“I was hoping it was just an accident.”

“And I didn’t say that I thought you had nothing to do
with Navy’s death. I said that I don’t believe you poison your
customers
.
Navy wasn’t a customer.”

“With all due respect, Chief, you’re being
ridiculous.”

“Hear me out. Suppose one of your employees wanted
Navy dead.”

“Come on, really.”

“And that they knew he would be picking up that tray
of coffee cakes. And, just for the sake of argument, let’s say they knew that
Navy had a habit of eating a cake or two
en route
to the nursing home.”

Ginger could well imagine that Navy was helping
himself to cakes from the tray each morning.

“And let’s further suppose that this particular
employee of yours had a vendetta against Navy. They could have poisoned a cake
they knew Navy would eat.”

“Come on now, Chief, is that the best theory you can
come up with? You’re just making this up out of thin air. You’ve got nothing to
base any of it on.”

“Oh really? What about the panties?”

Ginger suddenly realized she had been tricked. Perhaps
the young chief was smarter than she thought. He had lured her into this
conversation, and now she couldn’t just abruptly pull out of it. That would be
a dead giveaway that she knew something she didn’t want to tell. “What?”

“You know what I’m talking about. I went back this
afternoon and re-interviewed the cook at the nursing home. She told you about
the panties we found under the front seat of Navy’s car, and she saw how you
reacted. You know who they belong to.”

“I don’t remember reacting at all.”

“Now Mrs. Lightley, if you have information that
pertains to this case, you are obligated by law to tell me. Otherwise, you’re
obstructing justice. And I don’t think I have to tell you where that could
lead.”

“I don’t have any
information
, Chief. I really
don’t know anything.”

“But you have a
hunch
.”

This
was the
reason he wanted her to come with him—not so she could hear what the M.E. had
to say, but to squeeze her brain and see what popped out. “Okay, fine. But I’m
really not sure at all.”

“So?”

“I think the panties might belong to Lacey Greendale.
But I really don’t know for sure. It’s just a guess.”

The chief grinned. “Good.”

What had she just done? Ginger wished she hadn’t asked
the cook so many questions. If she had not been aware of the panties, she
couldn’t have thought of Lacey. And right now the chief wouldn’t be about ready
to arrest her dear, sweet friend. She pictured Lacey being handcuffed, dragged
up to the fourth floor of the courthouse, and thrown into a jail cell with some
drug dealer or hooker.

When they arrived at the hospital and got out of the
car, the chief rushed Ginger inside the building.

The deputy was waiting in the hallway. “I’ll let the
M.E. know you’re here.”

The chief paced the floor.

Ginger felt dizzy—her ultra-sensitive nose overwhelmed
by the thick odor that permeated the hallway. She tried breathing through her
mouth. But that was even worse—she could
taste
the stench. Was it
chemicals or dead bodies or a combination? Ginger wouldn’t allow herself to
analyze it. She just prayed Ethel’s casserole would stay in her stomach where
it belonged.

After a few minutes, the medical examiner came out of
the lab and took them into his office. Ginger and the chief sat down in the two
seats in front of his desk.

“I understand you found poison in his stomach,” said
the chief.

“No, said the M.E., “I didn’t find any poison.”

The chief and Ginger looked at each other in surprise.

“What I found was fish oil.”

“Fish oil? How did
that
kill him?” said the
chief.

“Anaphylactic shock. Apparently he was highly
allergic.”

Ginger sighed in relief. It couldn’t have been her
coffee cake. She used some unusual ingredients—but never fish oil.

“Or it could have been the peanut flour,” said the
medical examiner.