“Great sermon, huh?” said Jane from the back seat.
The others agreed.
Ginger was in the front with Barb. Was it just her imagination, or did it seem like Elijah wanted to ask her something as they were going through the handshake line? Surely he didn’t want to have lunch with her—not that she wouldn’t be interested. Or would she?
Would that be starting something—like dating? She didn’t want to rush into anything. Besides—Sunday lunch at Luby’s Cafeteria with the girls had become a tradition.
“Was the sermon longer than usual?” said Barb.
Ethel checked her watch. “I don’t think so.”
“Well, just look at that line,” said Barb.
“First Baptist must have let out early,” said Jane.
“And the Catholic and Methodist churches too,” said Barb. “This is ridiculous.” She pulled into a parking spot, but left the engine running.
“We can’t always be at the front of the line,” said Ginger. “It’s only fair that other people get their turn.”
“Well, I think we should just go somewhere else,” said Barb in a huff.
“We could go to yourhouse, Barb,” said Ginger. “When’s the last time you cooked us a meal?”
“I’ve got a better idea, Ginge,” said Barb with a sly smile. “Let’s go over to the parsonage.”
“The parsonage?” said Jane.
“Yeah,” said Barb. “I got the distinct impression that the good reverend was just itching to invite our Ginger over for a nice cozy lunch. Didn’t y’all notice?”
“Well…now that you mention it,” said Ethel.
“Really?” said Jane. “I didn’t notice. But I haveseen the way he looks at her.”
“Jane!” said Ginger. “Don’t you dare talk about our pastor that way.”
“I’m sorry, Ginger,” said Jane, “I didn’t mean for it to sound crude. I just think he really likes you. And, yeah, I think he’d like to ask you out.”
“I think he’d like to jump her bones,” said Barb.
“Barb!” said Ginger. “That was terrible.”
“Yeah, Barb,” said Ethel, giggling, “that was terrible. I can’t believe you said that.”
“Well, somebodyneeded to say it,” said Barb. “Just to wake Ginger up and get her back into the game.”
“Maybe I don’t wantto be in the game right now,” said Ginger. “But I’m not stopping the rest of you. Go for it.”
“Good—because I’m ready to go,” said Jane. “But the coach won’t send me in.”
“What coach?” said Ethel. “There’s a coach?”
“No,” said Jane. “There’s no coach. In fact, in my case, there’s no game.”
“Yeah, Ginge,” said Barb, “at least you’ve got a game.”
“What are we doing?” said Ginger.
“We’re discussing your love life,” said Ethel. “Even I knew that.”
“I mean—what are we doing for lunch? We’re just sitting here.”
“Let’s go to Sonic,” said Jane.
“Sonic?” said Barb. “I wanted meatloaf.”
“I don’t mind eating a hamburger in the car,” said Jane.
“Me either,” said Ethel.
“Fine with me,” said Ginger.
“Well, okay,” said Barb. She backed out of the parking spot and drove away. “But I don’t want to see any crumbs in my cars.”
“We’ll be careful,” said Jane.
“And absolutely no ketchup!” said Barb.
“Yes, Mother,” said Ethel.
In less than five minutes they had driven to Sonic and ordered their food.
“Now Ginger can give us the rest of the details about last night,” said Jane.
“I’ve already told you everything I can,” said Ginger.
“Right,” said Barb. “Nowtell us everything you can’t.”
“Yeah,” said Ethel, “give us the dirt.”
“There isno dirt,” said Ginger. “Not really.”
“’Not really’ means there more,” said Jane. “Come on—you know you can’t keep a secret from us.”
“Spit it out,” said Barb.
“Look,” said Ginger, “I told you that somebody put fish oil in the coffee cake. Obviously, they knew about Navy’s allergy. And they knew he kept his Epi-Pen in his glove box.”
“Yeah,” said Jane. “We know that. What else?”
“That’s about it,” said Ginger.
“Any suspects?” said Barb.
Ginger hesitated.
Barb jumped on it. “Who is it? Anybody we know?”
“Yes,” said Ginger, quickly adding, “but she didn’t do it.”
“She?” said Jane. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”
“A womankilled him?” said Ethel, as though no woman had ever killed a man in the history of the world.
“Wise up, Ethel,” said Barb. “Women can be a heck of a lot meaner than men—if you really tick ‘em off.”
“Yeah,” said Ethel, “but here in Coreyville? I can’t imagine.”
“What’s her name?” said Jane.
“Lacey Greendale,” said Ginger.
“But Lacey works for you, doesn’t she?” said Ethel.
“Yes,” said Ginger. “But, like I said: there’s no way she did it.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure,” said Jane.
“Why?” said Barb. “What do you know?”
“I don’t know if it really means anything,” said Jane, “but the other day I was walking out of Wal-Mart and I saw Lacey standing in the parking lot, yelling at some guy in a black car. I couldn’t see who he was.”
“Was he in a Corvette?” said Ginger.
“I don’t know,” said Jane. “Could have been. And then the guy just peeled out and drove away, leaving her standing there.”
“They used to date,” said Ginger. “And since they broke up, they haven’t been on very good terms. But she’s no killer. I’m sure of that.”
Was Ginger just kidding herself? Was she so determined to prove Lacey’s innocence that she couldn’t see the obvious? She had stashed the pistol in Lester’s old safe in the basement to protect Lacey. It was Danny’sgun. Or was it? What if Lacey bought the gun to take revenge on Navy? Ginger felt a chill run up her spine.
Lacey could have planned to shoot Navy, and then thought of a neater, cleaner way—with less risk. After all, it wasn’t really poison. It was just a dietary supplement. Lots of people take them all the time.
Sure, she spiked his coffee cake. But it was just to make him sick, just to get back at him—not to killhim. Was it her fault that he had misplaced his Epi-Pen? She couldn’t be blamed for his carelessness.
Ginger needed to either come up with an alternate suspect or face the reality that Lacey might indeed be the killer.
Chapter 15
Early Monday, Silvy quietly slipped in the back door from the alley and walked down the hallway to his office.
Bull Crawley looked up from his computer. The forty-year-old bald head, along with the six-foot tall, double-wide frame made him look like a washed up pro wrestler. “Morning, Honeysuckle.”
Silvy was not fond of the nickname he had given her. But she was in no position to complain. “Good morning, Bull.”
“So, what’s my pain-in-the-butt brother up to this morning?”
“He’s already selling coffee cakes. Actually, they’re jumbo muffins. But he’s calling them cupcakes.”
“Really? Good. He’ll be out of business soon—and in jail, where he belongs.”
“I’m not so sure,” said Silvy.
“How long you think it’s gonna take for somebody to realize that his cupcakes taste just like Ginger’s coffee cakes?”
“But that’s just it—they don’t.”
“Why not? Didn’t he follow the recipe?”
“Yes. And I helped him. We started with the Sweet Ginger Cake. He wanted to try just one recipe at first to see how it goes over. And we fol
lowed the recipe very carefully. I don’t know what went wrong.”
“Maybe you baked them too long, or at the wrong temperature,” said Bull.
“No. We did everything exactly according to the recipe.”
“Well, if they don’t taste right then why is he trying to sell them? That’s crazy.”
“Because Cash can’t tell the difference. He thinks they’re fine. He has no sense of taste.”
“That’s true.” He grinned. “Except in women.” He got up from his chair and walked around to her.
“How about working me into your busy schedule today?” he said, putting his big, hairy arms around her.
“I could probably take a break at around 3:30.”
“You work way too hard for that putz.”
She smiled. “Well, this afternoon when I come back I’ll work hard for you.”
“Yeah, but you’ll only stay ten minutes. He gets you all night long.”
She faked a pout. “Don’t blame me. This is what you wanted.”
“No, not really. But it’s the only way I knew to keep up with what he’s doing. Cash is determined to steal all my customers.”
“Oh, come on now, Bull. He’s nowhere close to doing that.”
“Well, I just don’t trust him.”
“You’ve got nothing to worry about, Baby.” She nearly choked on the word ‘Baby.’ “I’ve got everything under control.”
“That’s what I love about you, Honeysuckle.” He pulled her small, firm body close and kissed her hard.
She nearly gagged. How much longer would she have to endure this nasty little charade?
**********
Lacey delivered two cups of coffee to Ginger and Elijah’s table.
“Thank you, Lacey,” said Ginger.
“Yes, Ma’am. You’re welcome.” She smiled politely and walked away.
“Things are pretty tense around here, I guess,” said Elijah.
“Yeah,” said Ginger. “And I just don’t know what to do about it. I tossed and turned all night trying to think of who else might have wanted to kill Navy.”
“Maybe it’s some otherex-girlfriend—could be somebody from Dallas. Who knows what all he was into over there. Maybe he owed money to a loan shark.”
“You’re right. It could be somebody from out of town. All I’m thinking about is the people here in Coreyville.”
“You can’t let it make you crazy, Ginger.”
“I know. But look at her.”
Elijah glanced over at the counter where Lacey was waiting on a customer.
“Do you really think she’s capable of murder?” said Ginger.
“You can’t always go by looks. Think about Judas. The other eleven didn’t think helooked like a traitor.”
“You’re not helping. Judas committed suicide. I love that girl. I can’t stand the thought of her being hurt.” She paused. “No. I will not accept it. She is not the one.”
“Well, maybe Chief Foenapper has some new leads. He might already have another suspect or two.”
“But if he did, wouldn’t he have let me know about it?”
“Honestly, I doubt it. My impression is that he wants to solve this crime all by himself. I remember how tight-lipped he was out at the nursing home. He didn’t want to tell us anything.”
A woman rushed inside and went straight to Ginger.
“I’m sorry, Ginger.”
“For what?”
“I was picking up some donuts for Henry over at Cash’s place and I saw that he’s started selling muffins. And I thought I’d try one. I love your coffee cakes, Ginger. But I was in a hurry, and I thought I could save some time.”
“I understand. It’s okay, Phyllis. It doesn’t hurt my feelings.”
“But it’s just not as good as yours.”
Ginger tried not to gloat. “I see.”
“So, even though Henry’s waiting for his donuts, and he’s got to get to work, I just had to get me a Sweet Ginger Cake.”
“Well, you’d better hurry then. No hard feelings.”
“Thanks, Ginger.” She rushed to the end of the line.”
“Looks like you’ve got some competition,” said Elijah.
“Yes. But apparently it’s not very strongcompetition,” said Ginger. Then she had a thought. “Excuse me just a moment.”
She got up and walked over to Phyllis, who was standing in line. “Phyllis, I know you’re in a hurry, but could I ask you a question?”
“Sure.”
“You said you didn’t like the muffin you got at Cash’s. Did you eat it all, or do you still have some of it left?”
“I was going to eat it on my way home, but it just wasn’t very good, so I only ate a couple of bites. It’s in the car.”
“I’ll make you a deal. If you’ll let me have whatever’s left of it, I’ll buy your coffee cake this morning.”
“You will?”
“Yes. What kind do you want?”
“Sweet Ginger Cake.”
“I’ll bag it up while you run out to your car. What do you say?”
Phyllis grinned. “It’s a deal.”
When she came back with the partially eaten muffin, Ginger handed her the bag. “Thanks, Phyllis.”
“No, thank you, Ginger.”
Ginger watched her hurry out the door, and then went back to sit down at the table with Elijah.
“What was thatall about?” said Elijah.
“Cash Crawley has started selling these.” She showed it to him. “They’re muffins, but he calls them 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 m
ay 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.”
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