Sweet Ginger Poison

“I suppose. But these days it seems like anything goes. More and more parents want something original. I can understand that, I guess.”

“Do you have kids, Ginger?”

“No, sadly, I don’t. Lester and I couldn’t have children of our own. We talked about adopting. But we just kept putting it off.”

“Did you ever wonder about his name?”

Ginger just stared at her. Hadn’t Ellegora already asked that question?

“It was his father’s idea,” said Ellegora. “Nigel was half drunk when he saw Navy for the first time in the hospital. He said, Look at the kid’s huge belly button. Let’s name him Navy.He laughed out loud about it. I tried to tell him that it wasn’t a big navel—it was just a birth mark around his navel. But he insisted that his son’s name would be Navy. End of discussion.”

She took a sip from her wine. “I hated the name. And as soon as Nigel left the hospital that night I started trying to think of some other name he would like better than Navy.”

“But apparently you weren’t able to talk him out of it.”

Ellegora’s eyes welled up. “When he left the hospital and was walking across the street, a Greyhound bus hit him and killed him. The driver said he was only going 30 mph, but he still killed my Nigel.”

“Oh, yes, I remember when that happened.”

“I couldn’t bring myself to deny my husband’s last request. Of course, he didn’t knowit would be his last request. And he might have changed his mind when he sobered up, but…”

“Well, there was nothing wrong with the name. It was a perfectly good name,” said Ginger.

“I got used to it.” She took another sip. “And now I’ll have to get used to seeing it on his headstone.”

Ginger thought she would start crying, but she didn’t.

“So, what was it that you wanted to see me about?”

“Well, I hope this won’t upset you…but one of my employees has been accused of killing Navy.” She quickly added, “But she didn’t do it. And I’m trying to prove it by figuring out who didkill him.”

“I’ve already told the police everything I know, but I’ll be glad to answer your questions too.”

“Thank you. What can you tell me about his allergy.”

“He was highly allergic to shellfish. Although I didn’t realize that fish oil supplements would be a problem for him.”

“So, did he carry an Epi-Pen around with him?”

“Yes—always. He kept it in the glove compartment of his car. I told him he should carry one in his pocket as well, but I don’t think he ever did. He said he didn’t like shirts with pockets, and he would break it if he carried it in his pants pocket. He wore jeans a lot.”

“So, it’s pretty likely that he had an Epi-Pen in his car on Saturday morning. Or at least that he thoughthe had one in there.”

“Well, I haven’t seen him much over the past few years. But I’m sure it would have been in his car. He knew how dangerous it was to be without it. One time in high school he nearly died after eating a crab cake at a friend’s house. The Epi-Pen saved him. You know how kids are—they think they’re invulnerable. But he took it a lot more seriously after that.”

“I can imagine.”

“What else?”

Ginger couldn’t think of any other questions. She should have written them down. “Uh…”

“Would you like to see his room?”

“He still has a room here?”

“It’s his oldroom. He hasn’t spent a night in it since his twenty-first birthday.”

“Sure. I’d like to see it.” Although Ginger couldn’t imagine how it would help.

She followed her staggering host down the long hallway.

“Here it is.”

“Wow. He sure won a lot of trophies.”

“Yes. Navy was quite the athlete.”

Ginger spotted his collection of high school yearbooks on the shelf. She walked over to them and pointed. “Would you mind if I look through these?”

“Help yourself,” she said. “I’ll be back in a minute.” She nodded to her empty wine glass.

Ginger picked up Navy’s senior yearbook. She thumbed through it and found his picture. He was a very handsome young man, she thought, except the cocky expression on his face.

She decided to check for an index to find his sports pictures. But the pages slipped through her fingers and she was suddenly looking at the inside of the back cover. It was filled with comments from his friends. She began to read them.

We were the best football team in the history of Coreyville High School, Dude. There will never be another team like us! – signed Bill.

I’m gonna miss cheering for the mighty Coreyville Cougars. Y’all were the greatest, Navy. Especially you! And thanks for that night under the stands! You blew me away! – signed Cindy.

It didn’t sound like something a girl would write. Ginger wondered if some boy had forged Cindy’s signature.

Great party, Man. Good thing your old lady was drunk out of her mind. Hope you enjoyed taking your Castor Oil! You’re the man!

It wasn’t signed. Ginger assumed that by ‘old lady’ the author meant Ellegora. But what was the deal with the Castor oil? Doesn’t it give you diarrhea? She wondered if one of the boys had pulled a trick on Navy. Typical teenage boy behavior, she thought.

“Find anything helpful?” Ellegora had refilled her glass.

“Not really. But thanks for letting me look.”

Ginger would not realize until later that she had just picked up an important clue.

**********

Coreyville Coffee Cakes was nearly empty at 1:30 p.m. The coffee break traffic would not start rolling in for at least another hour.

Danny Iper was cleaning tables when his cell phone began to buzz in his pocket.

“Hang on just a second. I need to go outside.”

He walked through the kitchen and out the back door into the alley.

“Okay,” said Danny. “You got my money?”

“One of my employees told me you came around earlier looking for me.”

“Yeah. I came to pick up my money.”

“I told you not to ever come to my place of business. And, besides, I don’t owe you anything. You didn’t do the job.”

“Yes, I did—not the way you toldme to. But I did it. Now I want to get paid.”

No response.

“Well?” said Danny.

“Fair enough. But we can’t be seen together in public.”

“I understand.”

“There’s an illegal dump site three miles south of town.”

“Yeah, I know where it is. About a quarter mile off the highway, right?”

“Right. Eleven o’clock tonight. Don’t be late. And don’t tell anybody where you’re going.”

“Hey, I’m not stupid.”

The caller hung up.