Sweet Ginger Poison (12 page)

She got up and walked over to Phyllis, who was
standing in line. “Phyllis, I know you’re in a hurry, but could I ask you a
question?”

“Sure.”

“You said you didn’t like the muffin you got at
Cash’s. Did you eat it all, or do you still have some of it left?”

“I was going to eat it on my way home, but it just
wasn’t very good, so I only ate a couple of bites. It’s in the car.”

“I’ll make you a deal. If you’ll let me have
whatever’s left of it, I’ll buy your coffee cake this morning.”

“You will?”

“Yes. What kind do you want?”

“Sweet Ginger Cake.”

“I’ll bag it up while you run out to your car. What do
you say?”

Phyllis grinned. “It’s a deal.”

When she came back with the partially eaten muffin,
Ginger handed her the bag. “Thanks, Phyllis.”

“No, thank
you
, Ginger.”

Ginger watched her hurry out the door, and then went
back to sit down at the table with Elijah.

“What was
that
all about?” said Elijah.

“Cash Crawley has started selling these.” She showed
it to him. “They’re muffins, but he calls them cupcakes.”

“I thought cupcakes were usually kinda small.”

“They
are
.” Then she read the label. “C & C
Cupcakes: SweetCake.”

“Wonder if it’s supposed to taste like your Sweet
Ginger Cake?”

“Let’s see,” said Ginger, unwrapping it. She held it
up to her nose and inhaled slowly and deeply. “Hmm.”

“What?”

She pinched off a small piece and tasted it. “You’re
kidding me.”

“What?”

“I need to talk to Addie.”

“Addie? Why? What is it?”

“I’m sorry,” said Ginger, getting up. “I’ll see you
later.” She walked to the kitchen.

Addie was sitting in her chair daydreaming, waiting to
take the next batch of coffee cakes out of the oven.

“Got a minute?”

Addie checked the timer. “I’ve got
eight
minutes.”

Ginger motioned for Addie to come with her. She led
her into the office and closed the door.

Addie took a chair in front of the desk.

Ginger handed her what was left of the muffin.

“What’s this?” said Addie.

“It’s a product of Cash and Carry Donuts,” said
Ginger.

“Couldn’t be. He only makes donuts.”

“Not anymore. Look at the label.”

“Why is he calling it a cupcake? It’s too big to be a
cupcake.”

“I know. Taste it,” said Ginger.

“Somebody’s been eating on it. What’s this about,
Ginger?”

“You’ll know as soon as you taste it.”

Addie pulled a chunk off of the side that hadn’t been bitten
and put it into her mouth. Almost immediately her eyes widened. “This is—”

“—right.” Ginger smiled.

“So,
he’s
the one.”

“Yeah. Pretty stupid, huh?”

“But I don’t get it. Couldn’t he tell that it didn’t
taste right?”

“Apparently not. Or he just didn’t care,” said Ginger.

“No. He
had
to care. Otherwise, why pay for the
recipe?”

Only Ginger and Addie knew that the stolen recipe book
was a
fake
. Not even Cheryl knew. All the talk about it being worth
thousands of dollars was just a ruse, intended to tempt baker trainees. A baker
trainee eventually learned the real recipes. And Ginger didn’t trust them with
just anybody.

“I wish I had never started the whole fake recipe book
thing. It may be the very reason Navy’s dead.”

“No, Ginger. If he stole it and then somebody killed
him for it, that’s not your fault. That boy was a good-for-nothing anyway. I
can’t say I’m all that sorry to see him go.”

Ginger was shocked. “Addie, how can you say that? He
didn’t deserve to
die
.”

“No, of course not. You’re right.”

But Ginger didn’t believe her old friend. She could
see it in Addie’s eyes: she was
glad
Navy was dead.

Ginger had been praying for another suspect. Be
careful what you pray for.

At about 10:30 a.m., Ginger walked down to Scissy’s
Beauty Shop. Sissy Gossett had earned the nickname ‘Scissy’ in beauty school,
twenty-seven years ago. People were amazed at how fast she could work a pair of
scissors. She zigged and zagged and hovered above your head like a hummingbird.
You didn’t dare move an inch while her scissors were in motion.

When Scissy finished with you, your hair was a work of
art. And no two looked the same. Women quickly learned not to ask for their
hair to be styled like so-and-so’s. That was an insult. Each head was intended
to be a unique masterpiece.

Ginger wasn’t surprised to see Scissy idling in her
stylist chair, flipping through a magazine she’d probably already read a dozen
times. Business was slow on Mondays. Most women came in toward the end of the
week so their hair would look its best for Sunday morning services.

The other salons in town were closed on Mondays. But
Scissy got too lonely at home while her husband was at work. She had no
hobbies, no other interests. So, she opened her place on Mondays, just hoping
somebody would come in. She gave her other stylists the day off.

She smiled broadly when Ginger walked through the
door. “Hey, Ginger, come on in.”

“Hi, Scissy.”

“You didn’t have an appointment today, did you?” She
jumped up and scurried to the desk to check her appointment book.

“No. I’m scheduled for Friday afternoon—as usual.”

“I thought so. Well, what can I do for you? Need some
more of that new conditioner?”

“No, I’ve still got plenty. Thanks. I just wanted to
ask you a couple of questions.”

“Oh, okay. Have a seat.” If there was anything Scissy
was more accomplished at than styling hair, it was talking—or more precisely,
gossiping. She hopped back up in her stylist chair. “Shoot.”

“What do you know about Cash Crawley?”

“The Donut King?”

“Yeah. Have you heard anything new lately?”

“Only that he’s started selling muffins. But I
understand they’re nothing to write home about.”

Unbelievable, thought Ginger. Cash had just started
selling the muffins that morning. “How did you hear about it?”

“I had a customer early this morning who told me she
tried one. He’s only got one kind apparently. She said it wasn’t
bad
. It
was just kinda bland.”

“I see.”

“You think Cash is trying to compete with
you?
”

“Maybe.”

“Well, I don’t think he’d stand much of a chance,
Ginger. Nobody can top your coffee cakes.”

Ginger smiled. “Thanks.”

“The only business Cash usually tries to compete with
is his brother’s.”

“Really? I’ve never thought of them as being in
competition with each other. All Cash sells is donuts. Bull’s place has grown
into a full-service restaurant. I wouldn’t think there would be much fighting
over customers except at breakfast.”

“Yeah, but for the Crawley boys,
everything
is
a competition," said Scissy. "Remember what a great football player
Bull was in high school? He was huge even back then—thanks to the steroids.”

“Really? He took steroids back in high school?”

“Oh, yes. Everybody figured he’d get a full-ride
scholarship to wherever he wanted to go. But then he broke his ankle in the
state game. He never fully recovered from it. Never even went to college.”

“Yeah, I remember that," said Ginger. "It
was a shame.”

“Then little brother, Cash, came along five or six
years later and became the star quarterback. He seemed unstoppable. Until one
night after a big game when Bull took him to a club over in Shreveport to
celebrate. They got drunk and started fighting. One of Cash’s fingers got
broken—on his throwing hand. It healed, but he never threw the football quite
as well after that. Cash never forgave his brother for it.”

“So, they’re still fighting it out—in the
business
world.”

“That’s right," said Scissy. "But so far
Bull is winning.”

“I would think so.”

“But did you hear about Cash dumping a box of mice
into Bull’s restaurant.”

“What? No.”

“I’m not surprised," said Scissy. "Bull did
everything he could to keep it quiet. Even
I
haven’t told anybody.”

“Until now.”

“Well, yeah. But I know
you’ll
keep it a
secret.”

Ginger leaned forward. “So, what happened?”

“One of the cooks spotted several mice in the kitchen
during the lunch rush, so he ran into the dining room to get Bull. When he
pulled him aside and told him about the mice, Bull began to usher his customers
out of the restaurant.”

“He told them about the mice?”

“Oh, no," said Scissy. "He said he suspected
a gas leak. He apologized and told them their next meal was free—including
dessert.”

“Wow. That was close.”

“Yeah. If anybody had seen a mouse run across the
floor, Bull would have been out of business.”

“How did he figure out it was Cash?”

“He doesn’t know for sure. But he can’t imagine who
else would do that to him.”

“That’s so unethical,” said Ginger.

“Yeah, but it’s no big shock to me. Neither one of
them has any scruples.”

Scissy had confirmed Ginger’s suspicions. Cash was
indeed the kind of man who would have paid Navy to steal her recipe book.

But would Cash then
kill
Navy—just to cover up
the theft?

**********

Danny walked into the kitchen. “Have you seen Lacey?”

Addie pointed to the back door.

He went outside and saw Lacey with her back and one
foot against the wall, taking a drag from her Virginia Slim.

“Those things will kill you,” he said as he put a
Marlboro between his lips.

She continued to look straight ahead. “Not as fast as
a gun.”

He took out his lighter, flipped it open, and lit his
cigarette. “Look, I’m sorry. I was stupid. I shouldn’t have had the gun in the
apartment.” He put the lighter back in his pocket and took a long drag.

She turned to him. “You shouldn’t have had a
gun—period.”

“I know.”

Lacey punched him in the arm. “Stupid.”

He hesitated to ask. “What did you do with it?”

“What does it matter? You don’t need a gun.”

“Yeah, but you can’t just throw it away. Where is it?”

“I’ve got it in a safe place. Don’t worry about it.”

Maybe she had it on her—perhaps it was strapped inside
her thigh. Or maybe he’d seen too many B movies. He scanned her body, from head
to toe, and got distracted on the way down. Danny never got tired of staring at
her long, sexy legs.

She didn’t seem to notice he was ogling her. “I think
I convinced Ginger that I had nothing to do with Navy’s death. Hopefully she’ll
convince the police.”

“Good. What about the panties? They really are yours,
aren’t they?”

Lacey threw her cigarette down in disgust and snuffed
it out with a violent twist of her shoe. “I’ve got to get back to work.”

He grabbed her by the arm. “I want to know.”

She just stared at him.

“I
deserve
to know.”

“Okay, yes—they’re mine,” she said.

“I
knew
it.”

“I put them in his car to make Kayla jealous. It was a
stupid thing to do.”

“So, you still have a thing for him.”

“Not anymore.”

“Not anymore.” He said calmly. Then he yelled, “You
mean since he’s
dead?”

“I’m sorry. It’s not that I don’t love
you
. I
was just confused about my feelings.”

Danny was so angry he didn’t know what to say. He was
about to blurt out something he’d probably regret.

“But I know you’ll forgive me—just like I’ll forgive
you…for the gun.”

“It’s not the same thing.”

“Do you want me to forgive you?”

“Yes, but—”

“—no ‘buts.’ Do you want me to forgive you or not?”

“Yes.”

“Then you have to forgive me.”

“Fine. I forgive you.”

“Good.” She gave him a peck on the cheek, took his
hand, and led him back inside.

Danny wondered if he would get paid for the job. His
secret employer had provided the gun. His instructions were to hide in the
bushes along the back parking lot of the nursing home on Saturday morning and
wait for Navy to arrive with the coffee cakes. When Navy stepped out of his
car, Danny was to shoot and kill him.