Sweet Ginger Poison by Robert Burton Robinson Page A

I
understand they’re nothing to write home about.”
    Unbelievable, thought Ginger. Cash had just started
selling the muffins that morning. “How did you hear about it?”
    “I had a customer early this morning who told me she
tried one. He’s only got one kind apparently. She said it wasn’t bad . It
was just kinda bland.”
    “I see.”
    “You think Cash is trying to compete with you? ”
    “Maybe.”
    “Well, I don’t think he’d stand much of a chance,
Ginger. Nobody can top your coffee cakes.”
    Ginger smiled. “Thanks.”
    “The only business Cash usually tries to compete with
is his brother’s.”
    “Really? I’ve never thought of them as being in
competition with each other. All Cash sells is donuts. Bull’s place has grown
into a full-service restaurant. I wouldn’t think there would be much fighting
over customers except at breakfast.”
    “Yeah, but for the Crawley boys, everything is
a competition," said Scissy. "Remember what a great football player
Bull was in high school? He was huge even back then—thanks to the steroids.”
    “Really? He took steroids back in high school?”
    “Oh, yes. Everybody figured he’d get a full-ride
scholarship to wherever he wanted to go. But then he broke his ankle in the
state game. He never fully recovered from it. Never even went to college.”
    “Yeah, I remember that," said Ginger. "It
was a shame.”
    “Then little brother, Cash, came along five or six
years later and became the star quarterback. He seemed unstoppable. Until one
night after a big game when Bull took him to a club over in Shreveport to
celebrate. They got drunk and started fighting. One of Cash’s fingers got
broken—on his throwing hand. It healed, but he never threw the football quite
as well after that. Cash never forgave his brother for it.”
    “So, they’re still fighting it out—in the business world.”
    “That’s right," said Scissy. "But so far
Bull is winning.”
    “I would think so.”
    “But did you hear about Cash dumping a box of mice
into Bull’s restaurant.”
    “What? No.”
    “I’m not surprised," said Scissy. "Bull did
everything he could to keep it quiet. Even I haven’t told anybody.”
    “Until now.”
    “Well, yeah. But I know you’ll keep it a
secret.”
    Ginger leaned forward. “So, what happened?”
    “One of the cooks spotted several mice in the kitchen
during the lunch rush, so he ran into the dining room to get Bull. When he
pulled him aside and told him about the mice, Bull began to usher his customers
out of the restaurant.”
    “He told them about the mice?”
    “Oh, no," said Scissy. "He said he suspected
a gas leak. He apologized and told them their next meal was free—including
dessert.”
    “Wow. That was close.”
    “Yeah. If anybody had seen a mouse run across the
floor, Bull would have been out of business.”
    “How did he figure out it was Cash?”
    “He doesn’t know for sure. But he can’t imagine who
else would do that to him.”
    “That’s so unethical,” said Ginger.
    “Yeah, but it’s no big shock to me. Neither one of
them has any scruples.”
    Scissy had confirmed Ginger’s suspicions. Cash was
indeed the kind of man who would have paid Navy to steal her recipe book.
    But would Cash then kill Navy—just to cover up
the theft?
    **********
    Danny walked into the kitchen. “Have you seen Lacey?”
    Addie pointed to the back door.
    He went outside and saw Lacey with her back and one
foot against the wall, taking a drag from her Virginia Slim.
    “Those things will kill you,” he said as he put a
Marlboro between his lips.
    She continued to look straight ahead. “Not as fast as
a gun.”
    He took out his lighter, flipped it open, and lit his
cigarette. “Look, I’m sorry. I was stupid. I shouldn’t have had the gun in the
apartment.” He put the lighter back in his pocket and took a long drag.
    She turned to him. “You shouldn’t have had a
gun—period.”
    “I know.”
    Lacey punched him in