Sweet Ginger Poison (14 page)

“Please have a seat.”

“Thank you.”

“And would you 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
second
time to lose him. When he turned twenty-one and got his trust fund money he
just went crazy—wouldn’t listen to reason.”

“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?”

“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
know
it 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
did
kill 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
thought
he 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
old
room. 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 for 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 ours!
– 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,” said the angry voice.

“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
told
me 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.

As Ginger was leaving Ellegora Newcomb’s house, she
asked when Navy’s funeral would be held, and was surprised to find out that it
would be the next morning, at ten. That didn’t allow much time to get the word
out. Ellegora told her she had left the planning up to their family attorney,
Carl Vittleman.

Ginger parked her car and walked into Mr. Vittleman's
office. Perhaps he knew of someone who had made threats against Navy. She had
wanted to ask Ellegora about it. But, after seeing her condition, she decided
not bring it up.

“I’m here to see Mr. Vittleman.”

The young woman at the receptionist desk glanced up
from her magazine. “And your name?” She laid down the magazine.

“Ginger Lightley.”

The woman checked her computer. “Do you have an
appointment?”

“No, I don’t. But I just came from the Newcomb Estate,
and—”

“—I’ll let him know you’re here.” She picked up the
phone and pressed the intercom button. “You have a visitor.” The young
receptionist talked to him in a tone that made Ginger wonder if the two were
lovers. She didn’t really know Carl Vittleman, but she was sure he was close to
her own age.

“Her name is Ginger…” She looked to Ginger for help.

“Lightley,” said Ginger.

“Ginger Lightley. She doesn’t have an appointment, but
she just came from Mrs. Newcomb’s house.”

Before the receptionist could hang up the phone,
Ginger heard a door open, and a man walked out. He was too young to be Carl
Vittleman.

“Hello, Mrs. Lightley. I’m Cray Vittleman.”

“Oh—you’re Carl’s son.” He was a very handsome young
man, about 30, Ginger figured. But he seemed too smooth—sort of sleazy.

“Yes. Please come into my office.”

She followed him down the hall. They walked in and he
closed the door.

“Please have a seat.”

“So, where is your father?”

“He’s ill. I’m handling his clients.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. How long has he been
ill?”

“Uh…for a little while. The doctor says he needs a lot
of rest. He’s going to be fine.”

“Well, I’m not sure whether you can help me with
this.”

“I can assure you, Mrs. Lightley, that anything my
father could do for you, I can do even better.” He smiled slyly.

“I see. Well, then, what do you know about Navy
Newcomb? Do you know if anybody had been threatening him?”

Cray began to squirm. “Oh. I thought you needed
legal
advice. I’m afraid I can’t help you with this.” He stood up and walked to
the door.

Ginger stood up. “Well, I’m sorry to have wasted your
time, Cray. I hope your father gets well soon.” She walked out.

“Thanks. Goodbye.” He closed his door.

“Well, that was quick,” said the receptionist,
scarcely looking up from her magazine.

Ginger wondered how much the young woman knew, and how
difficult it would be to get it out of her. “It’s such a shame what happened to
Navy Newcomb.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

She decided to take a shot in the dark. “Especially
when he was just about to get all that money.”

“Yeah. If he’d only known it was just a few days
away.”

Bingo. Wasn’t Navy’s birthday next week? Perhaps
Ellegora had planned to give her son a large birthday gift. Or maybe there was
a second trust fund. That would explain why the family lawyer would be
involved.

“Well, thanks. And have a nice day,” said Ginger.

“You too. Bye.”

As Ginger walked out to her car, she wondered who
would stand to gain by Navy dying before he could collect?

A red car in the parking lot caught her eye. She
looked more closely. Why did it seem familiar? Then she recognized the woman
sitting in the driver’s seat. It was Kayla—Navy’s girlfriend. Ginger smiled and
waved at her. Kayla suddenly turned her head the opposite direction.

What was Kayla doing here? Did she and Navy have some
unfinished business with the Vittleman law firm? But why would it involve
Kayla? If they had been married she could lay claim to the second trust fund—if
there was one. But they weren’t. They hadn’t even been together long enough to
establish a
common law
marriage.