Sweet Ginger Poison

Ginger deliberately blocked his path. “Something wrong?”

“Yes. It’s Navy Newcomb.”

“What kind of trouble did he get into this time?”

“Did you send him out to the nursing home?”

“Yes. Well, no—I didn’t sendhim. He’s been volunteering—taking cakes out there every morning.”

“That’s it? He just picks up some cakes and delivers them to the nursing home?”

“Yes. The three-day-old cakes.”

He seemed disappointed.

“They’re still good. They’re perfectlygood. I don’t give them stale cakes.”

“I see.”

“So, what did Navy do? You understand that he’s not an employee. He just volunteers.”

“I understand.” He tried to walk around Ginger, but she blocked him again.

“So, what’s the problem?”

“The problem is that Navy Newcomb…is dead.”

Chapter 4

Ginger stood there watching as Chief Foenapper rushed out of Coreyville Coffee Cakes, jumped into his car, turned on his flashing light, and sped away.

When she turned around, Elijah was walking toward her.

“What’s going on?”

“Navy Newcomb is dead.”

“What happened?”

“Daniel—I mean the chief—wouldn’t tell me. All I know is that he took my cakes out to the nursing home and now he’s dead. I want to go out there.”

“I’ll drive you.”

“Thanks.” She walked over to Cheryl Iper, at the cash register. “I’ll be back in a little while.” Ginger walked away before Cheryl had a chance to ask any questions.

Elijah had parked halfway down the block. In the early morning hours, Ginger’s customers took up more than her share of parallel parking slots. But most of the other shops were not open that early anyway.

Elijah’s old Ford sedan was roomy and comfortable. Pastors of small congregations learn how to live on meager salaries. One of the ways Elijah stretched his income was to buy his cars at auctions. This particular one had been a police cruiser in its previous life.

There was no way to know how many times the engine had been revved up for a high-speed chase. Or how many perps had ridden handcuffed in the back seat. None of that matter to Elijah. After a thorough cleaning and a new paint job, he considered the vehicle ‘born again.’

They got in and Elijah backed out and drove toward the nursing home.

“I hope this isn’t my fault,” said Ginger, more to herself than to Elijah.

“What do you mean? How could it be yourfault?”

“I think Navy stole my recipe book this morning.”

Elijah looked puzzled.

“What if somebody knew he was going to steal it? They might have tried to take it away from him. Maybe they fought, and—”

“—just how much is this recipe book worth?”

“Some other bakery might be willing to pay thousands for it. I don’t know. We get business from all over the area.” People travelling down Interstate 20 often made a detour through Coreyville just to get some of Ginger’s famous cakes.

“Okay. I can understand how valuable the book is. But I can’t believe people would killfor it.”

“I hope you’re right.”

When they arrived at Coreyville Country Home, Ginger asked Elijah to drive around to the back. They saw the chief talking to Justice of the Peace Harvey ‘Boot’ Hornamer. Two paramedics were loading a body into the ambulance in no particular hurry.

Ginger and Elijah got out of the car and walked up behind the chief just in time to hear the end of the conversation.

At 77, Boot was a product of his long-term habits. Sixty years of chewing tobacco had created a permanent protrusion in his left cheek. And these days, it never went away—whether the wad of chew was there or not. His love of the sun had turned his arms more leathery than his cowhide belt. The excruciating pain in his feet and back was exasperated by the cowboy boots. But he just wouldn’t be ‘Boot’ without them.

“So, I’m gonna order an autopsy.” Boot turned to the side and spit. The bullet stream of tobacco juice nailed a bullfrog right between the eyes.

“Okay,” said the young chief.

Boot walked over to his pickup and climbed in.

“Chief?” said Ginger.

He turned around.

“Y’all don’t have any idea what killed him?”

“I can’t discuss the case.”

“Why?”

Elijah jumped in. “So, you think it was murder?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Well, what areyou saying?” Ginger was getting annoyed.

“I’m not saying anything.”

Ginger noticed a woman standing near the back door of the building. Judging by the white outfit and apron, she figured the woman to be a cook. Perhaps she had seen or heard something. She would talk to her after she finished with the chief.

“Have you contacted his family?” said Elijah.

“I’m about to drive out to his mother’s house,” said the chief.

“What about his girlfriend?” said Ginger.

“I’ll go talk to her,” said Elijah.

“Thanks.” The chief walked to his car, got in, and drove away.

Two deputies watched as a tow truck drove away with Navy’s Corvette. Then they got into their car and left.

Ginger looked over at the building. The cook had apparently gone back inside.

“I’ll bet somebody in there saw what happened.” She began walking up the sidewalk, toward the kitchen door.

Elijah followed her.

Ginger knocked.

One of the cooks opened the door. It was the woman Ginger had seen standing outside.

“Yes?”

“Could we come in for a minute? I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

The woman hesitated.

“I’m Ginger Lightley.” She smiled and held out her hand.

The woman’s apprehension was suddenly gone. “Oh, Mrs. Lightley. I’m so happy to meet you.” She shook Ginger’s hand. “Your cakes are amazing. I’m a big fan.”