The Domino Girls Club met every Tuesday and Saturday night, around the oak table in Ginger’s breakfast nook. Their potluck dinners were made up of whatever each woman had cooked that day, plus a pan of hot, buttery rolls and a never-ending supply of iced tea. Usually Ginger provided dessert.

The meal would be followed by a seven-round game of Chickenfoot dominos, which could get pretty rowdy, especially with Jane mouthing off and Barb wise cracking.

“Oh, Ethel, I love this casserole,” said Ginger. “Could I get your recipe?”

Barb grabbed Ethel’s arm. “Don’t do it, Ethel. Not unless she’ll swap it for one of her secret coffee cake recipes.”

Ethel Eggly and Barb Omatta, 67 and 66, respectively, had been best friends for many years. And they had grown closer than ever since their husbands, Earl and Henry, were killed in a horrific speedboat accident three years ago.

“I’ll tell you what’s in it,” said Jane.

“No, you won’t,” said Barb. “This ain’t some Betty Crocker concoction, Jane. It’s Ethel’s own recipe.”

“I know that,” said Jane. “But I can tell you the ingredients just by tasting it.” She took a bite and chewed slowly and thoughtfully. She closed her eyes as though she were meditating.

“What’s the verdict, Jane?” said Ginger.

“You really think she can do it?” said Ethel.

Ginger smiled and shrugged.

“Well?” said Barb. “Wait—let me guess. You have determined that Ethel’s tuna casserole contains…tuna!”

Ginger and Ethel snickered.

Almost everything that came out of Barb’s mouth had a sarcastic ring to it. Sometimes she grated on Ginger’s nerves. But other times she was laugh-out-loud funny.

“Well, that’s a given,” said Jane. “Of course it has tuna.”

Ethel and Barb looked at each other and started laughing. Ginger tried not to laugh, but couldn’t help herself.

“What so funny?” said Jane. “I’m just getting started. Be patient. I’ll tell you what the rest of the ingredients are.”

“You’ve already blown it, Honey, and you don’t even know it,” said Barb.

“Huh?” said Jane.

“It’s not tuna,” said Ginger. “It’s chicken.”

Jane didn’t have an acute sense of taste like Ginger. Thankfully, it wasn’t a problem in her line of work. Jane’s Diner offered plain old country cooking. It was delicious food—but it wasn’t fancy.

For example, breakfast at Jane’s consisted of bacon, ham, sausage, eggs, grits, pancakes, biscuits and gravy. Once in a while an out-of-towner 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. “They were sexy. Like something you’d get from Victoria’s Secret.”

“Still could have been his,” said Barb.

“I don’t think so,” said Ginger.

“Why? What do you know?” said Jane.

“Probably nothing,” said Ginger. “Anyway, I don’t want to talk about it. Let’s change the subject.”

“I’m all for that,” said Ethel. “What’s for dessert?”

Jane jumped in before Ginger could answer. “Coffee Cake of the Month.”

“Oh, wonderful,” said Ethel.

“Bring it on,” said Barb.

“Okay.” Ginger got up and went into the kitchen.

“What’s it called?” yelled Jane from the breakfast nook.

“Firecracker Cocoa Cake,” said Ginger.

“What?” yelled Jane.

Ginger would not answer anymore yells. She uncovered the serving dish and carried it back out to the table, along with four dessert plates and forks. “It’s called Firecracker Cocoa Cake.”

“Ooh—sounds hot,” said Ethel. “So, it tastes like hot cocoa?”

“No,” said Ginger, “not at all.”

“Come on, Ethel,” said Barb, “that would be too easy.”

Ginger sat the serving dish in the center of the table and then placed a dessert plate and fork in front of each of the women. She had pre-sliced two of the mini-cakes.

They each took a slice and began to eat it.

“It’s not really that hot,” said Ethel. “Oh—I take that back. It’s getting hotter. In fact, I don’t know if I can—”

“—yes, you can, Ethel,” said Ginger. “Hang on.”

“Okay,” said Ethel. “I see what you mean. It almost got too hot for me. But not quite. Then it cooled back down a little. How unusual.”

“And delicious,” said Jane.

“Weird combination of flavors,” said Barb. “But I really like it.”

“Thanks.” Ginger smiled. Her new recipe had passed the ultimate test.

Ginger’s cell phone rang. She couldn’t imagine who would be calling her at 6:30 p.m. She took it out of her pocket and checked the caller ID. It was an unknown caller.

“Hello? (pause) Oh, hi, Chief.”

The other three women watched with great curiosity.

Jane motioned for Ginger to put him on speakerphone.

Ginger clicked the button. “So, what did you find out from the medical examiner?”

“He’s not finished. They apparently had a rash of suspicious deaths in Longview last night. So, Navy’s been waiting his turn. I’ve got one of my deputies down there. He was supposed to call me when they were getting close to Navy. But he took a quick dinner break, and when he got back they were almost done with him.”

“I see. Well, do you know anything yet?”

“Yeah. Are you at home?”

Ginger was puzzled. “Yes.”

“Good. I want you to ride down to Longview with me.”

“Right now?” She looked at her guests.

“Yes. I’m on my way.”

Was he coming from his office? If so, he would be there in less than a minute. “Why do you want me to go? What did you find out?”

“Well, from what my deputy told me, it sounds like they found some kind of poison in Navy’s body. And we know he ate one of your coffee cakes, so—”

“—how do you know that?”

“We found a cellophane wrapper on the front seat of his car. The label said ‘Sweet Ginger Cake.’”

Ethel stared at her empty dessert dish and gulped. She looked at Barb and then at Jane. Clearly, they were all having the same thoughts: (1) There was no way that their dear friend would try to poison them (2) But under the circumstances, would it be considered bad manners to barf up their dessert?