Sweet Ginger Poison by Robert Burton Robinson Read Free Book Online Page B

would wander in and ask for something not on the menu—like Eggs
Benedict.
    That was enough to get you branded a ‘city slicker.’
Jane would delight in putting a hand on one hip and saying, “I’m sorry, Sir,
but we don’t have those here. In fact, nobody in town does. You might want to
try McDonalds. I understand they’ve got something called an Egg McMuffin.” Jane
wasn’t normally a smart aleck. But she just couldn’t tolerate uppity people.
    “Chicken, tuna—whatever,” said Jane. “Never mind.”
    Barb looked at Ginger. “So, Ginge, I hear you had
quite a morning.”
    Virginia is my real name, thought Ginger. Why can’t
Barb either use that or ‘Ginger,’ like everybody else? It reminded her of the
old Andy Griffith Show—the way Barney used to call Andy ‘Ange.’ Ginger wondered
if it irritated Andy.
    “Yeah,” said Ginger. “And we still don’t know what
really happened to him.”
    “ We? ”said Barb. “ You mean you and the police?”
    “The police think it’s murder ,” said Jane,
almost gleefully.
    “No. They don’t know yet,” said Ginger.
    “So, now we’ve got a major crime being investigated by
a chief of police who couldn’t shoot his way out of a box of corn flakes,” said
Barb.
    “It could have been just an accident,” said Ginger.
    “I don’t buy it,” said Barb. “A healthy, sober
24-year-old doesn’t just fall down on the sidewalk and die.”
    “How do you know he was sober?” said Ethel.
    “Well, it was early in the morning, so I assume…,”
Barb looked at Ginger. “ Was he sober?”
    “I think so,” said Ginger. “Addie didn’t notice
anything unusual about him when he came by the bakery.”
    “I heard that he dropped off the coffee cakes and then
ran out to his car and started tearing out the interior,” said Ethel. “Somebody
said it looked like a wild raccoon had ripped the dashboard to shreds.”
    “Where did you hear that? No. That’s wrong,” said
Ginger. “He was apparently trying to find something in his glove box, and just
pulled everything out and threw it on the floorboard.”
    “What do the police think he was looking for?” said
Barb.
    Before Ginger could speak, Jane said, “They don’t
know. But once they figure that out, they’ll understand what happened to him.”
    “Who told you that, Jane?” said Barb. “One of your
‘horny hobblers?’
    “No,” shouted Jane. “I mean—they didn’t tell me that.
And they’re not horny and they don’t hobble.”
    Barb loved to needle Jane about two seventy-something
year-old deputies who often came around flirting with Jane at the diner.
    “Well,” said Barb, “if you ever decide to go out with
one of them, you’d better hope they’re still horny.”
    “Barb,” said Ethel, “quit picking on her.”
    “I’m not interested in that,” said Jane. “I just love
a man in uniform.”
    “Yeah, uniforms are great,” said Barb. “You can hide a
whole lotta ugly inside one of those things.”
    “Well, that was just rude, Barb,” said Ethel.
    “I call ‘em like I see ‘em,” said Barb. She threw back
her tea glass and gulped down half of it.
    “Well, not that it matters, but I got my information
from two fine, young deputies,” said Jane proudly.
    “Those boys are greener than Foenapper,” said Barb.
“What we need around here are more veteran officers—men who can command some
respect. All we’ve got is a couple of over-the-hillers and a pack of
skinny-butt pimple-poppers.”
    “Well, I’m sure our new mayor will try to get higher
salaries for our deputies,” said Ethel. “Then maybe we can get some men with
more experience.”
    “If y’all will allow me to speak,” said Jane, “I’ll
tell you what I found out.” She cleared her throat for the big pronouncement,
and then waited until all eyes were on her. “They found a pair of panties under
his front seat.”
    “So? They were probably his, ” said Barb.
    Ethel giggled.
    “No, no,” said Jane.