CHAPTER 71: IMPERSONATION
Back when Frank was scrambling to pay off his overdue credit cards, he was already thinking about Aunt Ginger. So once the debt was settled, he began digging all over the backyard, trying to find her remains.
But to truly deal with the Ginger problem, it wasn't just about the corpse. He also needed to resolve the fact that—according to government records—Ginger was still "alive."
For the past dozen years, Frank had kept her death a secret in order to keep cashing her Social Security checks. As far as the system was concerned, Ginger Gallagher was still breathing.
That's why Frank needed to produce a body. If he could present a "recently deceased" Ginger, the whole situation could be passed off as a technicality—no more fraud charges.
But finding a suitable corpse? That was no small task.
Even though Frank had made all kinds of shady connections while paying off his debts—people who could get their hands on bodies—none of them could deliver the right body.
According to the records, Ginger would be over 90 years old by now. Try finding a female corpse that old. Even finding one in her seventies or eighties was nearly impossible.
Most of the bodies available were victims of violent death, unknown identities, or homeless individuals—none older than maybe fifty. So despite his best efforts, Frank couldn't find a corpse convincing enough to pass as Ginger.
Then, before he could even solve that part of the problem, the fraud investigation blew up in his face.
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"You have no idea how serious this is!" Fiona shouted. "You need to go to Wisconsin and bring Aunt Ginger back home immediately. That woman from the Social Security Office is coming back tomorrow morning, and she's bringing federal investigators with her!"
"Yeah… that might be a bit of a problem," Frank muttered.
"What problem?" Fiona demanded, eyes narrowing.
"Well, the thing is… Ginger's actually been dead for over ten years," Frank said awkwardly, looking anywhere but at her.
"WHAT!?" Fiona's voice jumped an octave.
"Wait a minute—the woman from Social Security said Ginger changed her mailing address twelve years ago. You changed it after she died?!" Fiona shouted, putting the pieces together.
"This is huge. I need to get everyone home—now!" she said, grabbing her phone.
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The Gallagher kids gathered back at the house.
"I kinda remember her," Lip said. "She gave me chocolate cookies when I was little. How did she die?"
"Uh… I think she OD'd. Just got too high and never came back down," Frank recalled.
"No!" Debbie cried.
"Debbie, come on. You never even met her," Frank replied, a little annoyed.
Debbie was barely ten years old. Ginger had died twelve years ago—Debbie hadn't even been an embryo yet.
"I never met her before… and now I never will," Debbie said, tears welling up in her eyes.
"It's okay, sweetheart. If Aunt Ginger had met you, she'd have loved you," Frank said, picking her up.
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The kids weren't too shocked by Frank's confession. The fact that he'd been claiming Ginger's benefits for over a decade without telling anyone? Totally in-character. He'd done worse.
And honestly, scolding Frank wasn't going to fix anything. The Gallaghers had one unshakable rule: when a problem comes up, you solve it. No whining, no blaming—just fix it.
"Jesus, Frank! What do we do now? Ginger's dead, and Social Security's coming with a damn federal agent tomorrow morning. If they find out—this is a felony!" Fiona panicked.
"They didn't notice anything for twelve years. Which means all their data is ancient—they don't even have a current photo of her," Frank said. "They have no idea what she looks like."
"So all we need is an old woman who looks the part, stage the house like Ginger lives here, and we're golden," Lip said. Quickest thinker in the house, as always.
"If Ginger were alive today, she'd be over ninety. Where the hell are we gonna find someone that old?" Fiona asked.
"She doesn't need to be ninety. Just needs to look old enough," Frank reasoned.
"I think Veronica works at a nursing home," Ian said.
"I'll call her now!" Fiona grabbed her phone.
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Veronica had a legit job at a local nursing home. It didn't pay much and was pretty chill, so she usually took side gigs like Fiona. While it was hard to find an elderly woman on the outside, nursing homes were overflowing with them.
Given the situation, Veronica was more than willing to help. The whole crew headed to her workplace.
The nursing home was huge. In the activity room alone, there were dozens of elderly men and women lounging around.
"That's Mrs. Sullivan. She's ninety-two—could drop dead any minute."
"Mrs. Helen needs meds every four hours."
"Beatrice? Her son visits every day. Can't use her."
"Jenny's popular around here. If she disappears, someone will notice."
"I like her! I want her to be Great-aunt Ginger!" Debbie said, pointing at an old lady knitting quietly.
Frank quickly slapped a hand over her mouth. "Not something we shout in public, Debbie…"
"She's too alert," Veronica said. "Great memory, too. Wouldn't work."
"We need someone old enough, but kind of out of it," Fiona explained. "Ideally with dementia or poor memory."
Everyone split up to search. There were plenty of old folks, but the right combination was tricky.
"You won't get fired for lending us a grandma, right?" Fiona asked Veronica quietly.
"Nah, this place is exactly like the horror stories on the news. No one gives a crap about these people. Security's a joke. Last month, some drifter got caught assaulting Mrs. Herbert while she was unconscious—and the guy got promoted for stopping it," Veronica said.
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It didn't take long before the group found their golden ticket: an elderly woman, plenty old, plenty confused, and with memory so bad she was having full conversations with a plant.
"She's the one!" Everyone agreed unanimously.
Sneaking her out was absurdly easy. No sneaking required—just walked her out the back door. No one noticed. No one asked.
"Hey V, if anyone here croaks and you think they'd make a good Ginger, let me know," Frank whispered to Veronica as they left.
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