“Look who’s talking,” said Jane.
“No, no,” said Ethel. “Barb doesn’t have a juicy caboosey.”
“Thank you, Ethel,” said Barb.
“I’m sorry,” said Jane. “You’re absolutely right. Barb’s caboose is just fine. It’s the
“Hey!” said Barb.
“Hold on,” said Ginger. “I can’t keep up. Are we talking in terms of trains or horses?”
“Huh?” said Ethel.
“Cabooses and saddlebags don’t really go together,” said Ginger, passing a piece of cake around to each woman, “unless we’re talking about an old Western.”
“Now, why did you go and do that, Ginger?” said Barb.
“What?” said Ginger.
“You do it every time. Just when I’m about to really go off on somebody—usually Jane—you throw a monkey wrench into the thing. I had a killer comeback to what Jane said. But now you’ve made me forget it.”
“Good,” said Ginger, “because I need y’all’s help with something.”
“Okay,” said Ethel.
“Yeah, we’ll help you,” said Jane, taking a bite of cake.
“Well, you know I’ve been trying to help Lacey out of the mess she’s in.”
“Have the police thrown her in jail?” said Barb.
“No. Surprisingly they haven’t, and I don’t know why. They haven’t even charged her yet.”
“Maybe they found the
“I wish,” said Ginger. “But I doubt it. The chief is not sharing information with me, but if somebody had been charged, he couldn’t keep that a secret.”
“Yeah,” said Ethel, “the whole town would know about it.
“So,” said Ginger, “I’m trying to come up with other possibilities for suspects. And I think I have one. Maybe two.”
“Who?” said Jane, suspending her next bite of cake until she got an answer.
“Kayla Hanker.”
“Who?” said Ethel.
“Navy’s girlfriend,” said Barb.
“Right,” said Ginger. “And possibly Cray Vittleman.”
“Carl Vittleman’s son—the lawyer?”
“Yes,” said Ginger.
“Why would they want to kill Navy?” said Jane.
“I’m not exactly sure,” said Ginger.
“Oh, you’ve really gotten desperate, Ginge,” said Barb. “You’re grasping at straws.”
“Not totally,” said Ginger. “I went to visit Ellegora Newcomb this morning. That didn’t help much. By the way, Navy’s funeral is tomorrow at ten. Y’all want to go with me?”
The other women nodded.
Ginger went on. “But then I dropped by Carl Vittleman’s office. He’s the Newcomb’s attorney. But he wasn’t there. Instead I met with his son, Cray—who I wasn’t impressed with at all. Then, on the way out, I got his receptionist to spill the beans.”
“What?” said Jane. “What beans?” She could barely contain her excitement. Ginger sensed that the sugar from the cake was beginning to kick in.
“From what she said, it made me think there was a second trust fund. You know that Navy blew the first one—all two million of it. So, I’m thinking there was a second one that he was unaware of, and that he was due to get it on his twenty-fifth birthday. Remember: he got the first one when he turned 21.”
“Yeah,” said Jane. “His dad had set up the trust fund before Navy was born.”
“I didn’t know
“So, you think his father may have set up
“If so,” said Barb, “the dad was a pretty smart cookie.”
“Yeah,” said Ginger, “except when he walked out in front of that bus and got himself run over.”
“Oh, yeah,” said Ethel, cringing.
“But how would it profit Cray Vittleman for Navy to die?” said Barb. “That doesn’t add up.”
“Don’t be so sure,” said Ginger, “Guess who I saw in the parking lot when I came out of his office?”
“Kayla.” said Jane.
Ginger nodded.
“I get it,” said Ethel. “The two of them are having an affair, and Cray tells her about the secret trust fund, so they plot to kill Navy.”
“She collects the money,” said Jane.
“And they ride off into the sunset,” said Ethel.
“But Ginger, I thought you said Kayla was Navy’s
“Yeah,” said Ginger. “That’s the one hole in my theory.”
“And it’s a big,
“What if they really were married, but they didn’t want anybody to know?” said Jane.
“Look—Navy never spent one second worrying about what other people thought,” said Barb. “So, why would he hide the fact that he was married? It makes no sense.”
What Barb had said was perfectly logical. But Ginger still wasn’t ready to give up on her theory.
Chapter 20
It was too late to knock on Ginger’s door. He knew that. The porch was dark, but there was light coming from the living room. It was 10:45 p.m., so she was probably dressed for bed. He pulled the car over anyway. What would the neighbors think?
He got out of his car, walked to the door, and knocked.
Ginger seemed tired, but happy to see him. “Elijah?”
“Sorry to bother you so late, Ginger.”
“It’s no bother. Come on in.”
She took his coat and draped it across a chair. They sat down in the living room.
“So, what brings you out this time of night?”
“Well, I know you’ve been trying to think of other suspects for Navy’s murder.”
She perked up. “You’ve got one for me?”
“Maybe. But I’m not sure I should be telling you.”
“Why not?”
“I learned this information during a counseling session tonight.”
“Well, it’s not like you’re a Catholic priest.”
What was he doing here? “I shouldn’t have come. I’m sorry, Ginger.” He stood up.
“No, wait. You don’t have to mention the name of the person you counseled,” said Ginger. “Unless, of course, that person is the suspect.”
He hesitated.
“Elijah, please. What will it hurt?”
“Manny Monet.”
“The shoe shine guy?”
