Free Sweet Ginger Poison by Robert Burton Robinson Page A

said Officer #2, “without us out there to
protect you, you’d feel…naked.” He did a slow scan of her body—as though he had
X-ray vision.
    “Ooh,” said Silvy, “I guess I would .” She
covered herself with both hands, as though she were naked. The cops seemed to
lose their appetite—for donuts . She loved it. “So, what’s happening
around town—anything new?”
    “Well, I guess you heard about Navy Newcomb,” said
Officer #1.”
    “Sure,” said Silvy. “Everybody’s heard about that.”
    “Yeah,” said Officer #2, “but I’ll bet you didn’t
know…,” lowering his voice, “…that it was murder .”
    “Really?” said Silvy. “I thought he just tripped and
hit his head.”
    “He was poisoned,” said Officer #2.
    “You’re kidding,” said Silvy.
    She pumped them for more details, but soon realized
they didn’t have any.
    After the cops left and the dining area had been
cleaned up for the next day, the other workers took off and Silvy locked the
front door.
    She walked into the kitchen and saw Cash organizing an
array of ingredients on the counter. His brand new ovens were preheating.
    Up until now, the only food items Cash sold were
donuts: glazed, powdered, filled, twisted, puffed, rolled—every imaginable
type. He dominated the donut market in Coreyville. Now he wanted to branch out.
He wanted a business like Ginger Lightley’s. People came from all over, just to
purchase her famous baked money-makers.
    But he would go further than Ginger had. She refused
to pursue an internet business. Cash figured she was just too old to understand
the opportunities—the fortune to be made through online sales. He wouldn’t be
so foolish. His new cakes would one day be even more famous than Ginger’s.
    “Everybody’s gone and we’re all locked up,” said
Silvy.
    “Check out these jumbo muffin pans,” said Cash. “Wait
until people get a taste of my new Cash and Carry Cupcakes.”
    “Wouldn’t it be better to call them muffins? Cupcakes
are usually kinda small.”
    “No. I’m calling them cupcakes because it goes better
with Cash and Carry. Besides, a lot of restaurants sell muffins. I’m gonna
offer people a new vision of what a cupcake can be.”
    “Big?”
    “Yeah—and amazingly delicious. But I need to come up
with a cool name for each flavor—like Ginger Lightley does. She’s got the
Carrot Orange Blossom, the Pineapple Doozie, the Veggie Lightley, and names
like that.”
    “And don’t forget about the Sweet Ginger Cake.”
    “Yeah. I should have a cupcake with my name on
it. Like…the CashCake or something.”
    “What kind of flavor would that be? Would it taste
like money? ”
    “Very funny. I don’t know yet. I’ll think of
something.”
    Silvy slithered in between Cash and the counter and
looked up at him with her ultra-seductive eyes. “I’d like to taste your flavor
right now, Baby.”
    Normally, this would have been enough to make the
ambitious entrepreneur forget all about work. But not tonight. He stepped to
the side, picked up the black book and began to thumb through it.
    “I can’t believe you’re already using it,” said Silvy.
    “Why shouldn’t I?”
    “Because he just died this morning.”
    “That wasn’t my fault,” said Cash, flipping another
page.
    “Don’t you feel bad that you didn’t even pay him
for it?”
    “I would have—if he had lived long enough.” He
set the book down, opened, and checked the items on the counter against the
recipe. “Good. I’ve got everything I need. Might as well get started.”
    Silvy wondered why Cash couldn’t have just created his own recipes instead of stealing them. But she knew the answer: Cash had
a dull sense of taste. He did know a good donut when he tasted it. But beyond
dough and icing, he was lost.
    “I’ve got some bad news,” said Silvy.
    “What’s that?”
    “A couple of cops came in just before closing.”
    “Cops love their coffee and donuts, don’t they? It’s