“Thank you.”
She turned and started walking away.
What a fine butt, he thought. “Wait. Come back.”
She came back to his desk.
He signed the letters and held them out.
She leaned over his desk to take them.
He could see way down her dress. “That dress is too short and too low-cut.”
Monica stood up and covered her cleavage with her hands. “I’m sorry, Sir.”
“You’re fired.”
“But, Sir, it’s my first day. Please give me another chance.”
“I’ll need you to finish out the day. Hire me another secretary.”
“But, Sir. Please.”
“And I’ll pick you up tonight at around seven.”
“But, Sir, I—what?”
“You like seafood?”
“Uh, sure.”
“And feel free to wear that dress.”
“Yes, Sir.” She grinned. “Thank you, Sir.” She took the letters, spun around, and scurried happily out the door.
The mayor smiled. It was amazing what you could get away with if you had power. He’d grown up with the advantages of wealth. But add power to it, and wow. He loved his life.
The intercom on his phone beeped.
“Yes, Melissa—I mean, Monica?”
“The chief is here to see you.”
“Send him in.”
“Good Morning, Mayor.” Chief Foenapper came in and sat down.
“That’s good, Daniel. Let’s keep it formal. I’ll try to remember to only call you ‘Chief’ from now on. So, how’s your murder investigation going, Chief?”
“It’s going fine, Mayor. Our prime suspect is Lacey Greendale, the young woman I told you about. She works for Ginger Lightley.”
“So, you’ve brought her in for questioning?”
“Not yet. But, as I told you on the phone Saturday night, when I talked to her at her apartment she seemed very suspicious—especially when I asked about the panties we found in Navy’s car.”
“So, charge her.”
“I’ve been looking at other possible suspects.”
“You’re just wasting time, Chief. If she looks like a killer and smells like a killer then she’s probably your killer. You’d better lock her up before she skips town.”
“I know what I’m doing.”
“Sure, you do. I wasn’t saying that you didn’t. But you’re dragging your feet. Let’s get it done.”
“I’ve been doing research on everyone who had the opportunity to poison him. I particularly wanted to see if any of them had any prior arrests.”
“And did they?”
“No.”
“What’d I tell you? A waste of time,” said the mayor.
“No prior
“Who?”
“Addie Barneswaller.”
Chapter 18
Ginger’s 2002 Buick LeSabre had less than 20,000 miles on it. She’d averaged about 50 miles per week over the past six years. At that rate, she figured the car would last longer than
It took ten minutes to drive out to Ellegora Newcomb’s estate, and another minute or so to make it up the long, winding driveway after being buzzed in at the security gate.
Ginger thought it was a shame that the family’s riches had done Navy more harm than good. But some people just can’t handle being wealthy.
She didn’t know exactly what she hoped to learn by talking to Navy’s mother. But she was pleasantly surprised that she had been granted access. The few folks that knew anything about Ellegora had portrayed her as mysterious and eerily reclusive.
Lacey had still not been charged with Navy’s murder—which was good, but puzzling. Had the chief found a better suspect, or was he just incompetent? Ginger could only guess, since he refused to share any information with her.
She parked her car, walked to the door and rang the bell. A full sixty seconds passed. What was taking so long? The servants knew she was there. One of them had let her through the gate. Finally the door opened.
“Mrs. Lightley?”
“Yes. And you’re Mrs. Newcomb?”
“Oh, no, Ma’am.”
The servant was probably in her mid-fifties—about the age of Navy’s mother.
“Please come in, Ma’am.”
Ginger followed her to a small, formal room with a couch, several chairs, and a fireplace.
“Please have a seat.”
“Thank you.”
“And would like a cup of tea or coffee?”
“No, thanks. I’m fine.”
The servant walked out of the room.
Ginger looked around and wondered how long it had been since someone had used this room.
After a few minutes the servant came back with Mrs. Newcomb—who had a large glass of red wine in her left hand.
“Mrs. Lightley?” she slurred.
Ginger stood up. “Yes. And you’re Mrs. Newcomb?”
“Ellegora.” She couldn’t even pronounce her own name properly, thanks to the alcohol. She held out her hand and Ginger took it.
“Ginger.” She was secretly repulsed by the cold, limp hand. It felt like what you would expect to find in a coffin. The other hand was somehow strong enough to hold a glass of wine. It probably got a lot of exercise holding up that glass all day.
“Would you like a glass of Cabernet Sauvignon?” said Ellegora. “It’s my favorite.”
“No, thanks.”
The two women sat down, and the servant left.
“First of all,” said Ginger, “I’m so sorry for your loss.”
“Thanks.” She took a sip of her wine. “It’s my
“He might have come around eventually.”
“I’d like to think so.” She took another sip. “Did you ever wonder about his name?”
“I’m sorry?”
“His name: Navy. Kind of a weird name, huh?”
