Sweet Ginger Poison

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 eightminutes.”

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’sthe 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 hadto 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 gladNavy was dead.

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

Chapter 16

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, everythingis a competition. 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. 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