Sweet Ginger Poison (3 page)

“Probably not.”

The bell on the front door jingled as someone walked
in.

Elijah looked to see who it was.

“Speak of the devil…”

“Our new chief of police?”

“Yep.”

Ginger sighed. “I guess I might as well get used to
it. Excuse me.”

She got up and walked over to Daniel Foenapper, who
was now standing in line. Daniel was only five-foot-nine, but his thin frame
made him look taller. He was quite impressive in his new uniform.

“Good morning, Chief.”

He seemed surprised, yet pleased that she had
addressed him in the proper manner. “Good morning, Mrs. Lightley.” His voice
cracked, sounding exactly like it did in junior high.

No, please call me ‘Ginger.’ She thought it, but
couldn’t bring herself to say it.

“Drop by anytime, Chief. It’s ‘on the house.’”

“No, Ma’am. I couldn’t do that—accept gifts, that is. It
wouldn’t be right. I’ll pay—just like everybody else.”

Okay. Maybe he’s not so bad, she thought. “Suit
yourself. But
do
come by often.”

He grinned. “I will. Your cakes are delicious.”

“Thanks. Well, have a nice day.”

Ginger stepped away, and was about to go back to
Elijah when she heard the phone behind the counter begin to ring. She saw Lacey
answer it. Ginger waited to see if the call was for her.

Lacey talked for a few seconds and then took the phone
away from her ear and began to survey the dining area. She looked at Ginger and
pointed to the chief.

Ginger went back over to where he was standing. “Looks
like we have a phone call for you, Chief.”

“Really?” Daniel looked down at his police radio. He
had forgotten to turn it on.

Ginger led him to the phone and Lacey handed it to
him.

“This is Chief Foenapper…yeah, I forgot to turn it on.
Sorry about that…I see…okay, I’m on my way.” He hung up the phone.

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
send
him. 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
perfectly
good. 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.”.

 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 store's 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 mattered 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
your
fault?”

“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
kill
for 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
are
you 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.”

Ginger knew that people loved her coffee cakes, but
she didn’t know she had
fans
.

The woman became even more excited. “Oh, would you
mind tasting one of my cherry tarts. It’s my own recipe.” She rushed to the
stove to get one.

Ginger looked at Elijah and shrugged. Then she saw her
coffee cakes sitting on the counter. One of her trays was sitting beside them.

The woman came back with a tart and handed it to
Ginger.

Ginger took a sniff and nodded. Then she bit off a
small portion and chewed it carefully as she analyzed it with her tongue. She
was like a professional wine taster—except for the spitting.

“I love the delicate flakiness. The cherries are
almost
too sweet—but they’re not. Ooh. And there’s a magnificent aftertaste. How
did you do that?”

The woman grinned. “It’s a secret.”

“Well, of course it is,” said Ginger. “And don’t you
tell a soul.”

“I won’t. Thanks, Ma’am.”

“You’re very welcome.” She handed Elijah what was left
of the tart. “Try it. You’ll love it.”

Without waiting for Elijah’s verdict, Ginger turned
back to the woman. “Are those the coffee cakes Navy delivered this morning?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Were you the one who let him in?”

“Yes. And he seemed fine. Then I got him to taste one
of my cherry tarts and he started choking.”

Ginger glanced back at Elijah, who had just put the
last bite of the tart into his mouth. He stopped chewing, and seemed to be
wondering whether he should spit it out. But he was not choking.

“So, do you think the tart made him sick?”

“No,” said the woman. “I mean—I
hope
not. Oh,
God. What do
you
think?”

“I doubt it.” She looked back at Elijah, who had
finished his tart.

“I feel fine,” he said.

“Maybe it was the
way
he ate it,” said the
woman. “He stuffed it in his mouth all at once.”

“That could be it,” said Ginger. “So, he started
choking and then he just passed out?”

“No, Ma’am. I ran to get him a glass of water. But by
the time I got back he had gone out the door. I went out to see if he was okay.
He was in his car doing something. Then he got out and started walking back
toward the building. So, I ran out to meet him. But before I could get to him,
he fell down. I checked his pulse, but I couldn’t feel anything.”

“Then you called 9-1-1?”

“Yes. And I got one of our nurses to come out. She
said he was already dead.”

Elijah said, “What do you think he was doing in his
car? Was he looking for something?”

“He must have been. While I was waiting for the
ambulance I went over and looked in the car. The glove compartment was open and
everything had been pulled out and thrown on the floorboard.”

“Did he have anything in his hands when he got back
out of the car?”

“No. So, I guess he couldn’t find whatever he was
looking for.”

“Did you hear anything the justice of the peace and
the chief were saying?” said Ginger.

“Yes. The justice of the peace said that he thinks
Navy’s head hitting the sidewalk is what killed him. His head was bleeding. But
he didn’t want to say for sure since Navy had been choking right before that.”

“So, they questioned you,” said Elijah.

“Yes.”

“Did they say anything else?” said Ginger.

“That’s about it, I think.”

Ginger looked at Elijah. He didn’t seem to have any
other questions. “Okay, then. Thanks. We appreciate it.”

Ginger and Elijah walked to the door and started to
step out.

“Oh,” said the woman. “There was one other thing. I
don’t know whether it’s important or not though.”

“What?” said Ginger.

“When the deputies were searching his car they found
something under the front seat. They were joking around about it until the
chief yelled at them.”

“Did you see it?”

“Yes. It was a pair of panties.”

Ginger was not at all surprised. Navy was known to be
a swinging bachelor. Although she thought he had finally settled down. “Wonder
why the deputies thought it was funny?”

“Probably because they were that kind that lace up on
the sides. You know—kinda sexy. And they had lettering across the front of
them.”

“What did it say?”

“Unlace Me.”

Ginger suddenly felt ill. She knew who the panties
belonged to.