“And what about her name?”
“Her name is Cassandra,” she replied, as she pulled her glasses down her nose and peered over the top of them. “I think that’s what I have written down somewhere here. I do seem to recall that name, Cassandra, but I don’t know her last name.”
At that, Doreen nodded. “Okay, so the nephew inherited everything from Chrissy’s will. Do we know what his name is?”
Nan nodded. “Peter.”
“Okay, that’s an easy name to remember,” Doreen noted. “Now we have Peter and Cassandra. What about last names?”
Nan shrugged. “We don’t really worry about last names here very much, dear. Everybody at Rosemoor has been married two and three times. So we really don’t bother to learn more than first names here.”
“Right.” Doreen smiled. “It still does help to get some history, when doing investigations like this.”
“Oh.” She thought about it and nodded. “I guess you can’t just type in Cassandra and expect to get the right one, huh?”
“No, sure can’t,” she replied. “Does anybody here likely know what the last names are?”
Nan thought about it for a bit before answering. “You know what? Let me just call Richie.” And, with that, she took out her phone. When she explained to Richie what she was after, she put her phone on Speaker and stated, “Doreen’s here visiting, but I don’t know how to find Cassandra’s or Peter’s last names.”
“Let me think about it.” He pondered that for a moment. “I’ll contact Laura. I’ll be down in a minute.” And, with that, he seemed to disappear off the phone. Yet it sounded like he was walking down the hallway with his phone still on.
Doreen frowned at that. “Has he still got his phone on?” she asked her grandmother quietly.
Nan nodded. “Which is why his battery is forever running out on him.” She shook her head. “And the one time you actually want the man to be there and ready and available, his phone’s dead, and he doesn’t get any messages,” she complained loudly.
“I heard that,” Richie growled from a long way away. “Of course I’ve got my phone on still. Then I don’t have to redial to get you guys when I get the information.”
Nan sat up straight in her chair and gave Doreen a bright smile. “See? He’s perfectly fine.”
“I’m sure he is.” Doreen picked up her cup of tea and took a big sip of it. It was lovely tea. She sat back, closed her eyes, and just let the steam from the top of the cup bathe her face.
“You look tired, dear.”
Her gaze flew open, and she stared at Nan. “I’m doing quite well. I had a pretty relaxing weekend.”
“And now you’re bored.”
“I am?”
“Oh, yes. If we’re looking into Chrissy’s murder, you’ve only got this poisoning case to work on. So you must be bored. I’m surprised you haven’t delved into those other files at your house.”
“Well, it’s under consideration,” she replied. “I just wasn’t sure I was mentally ready to handle a really big case.”
“Oh no, that Bob Small matter? Oh my, you need preparation for that,” she stated wisely. “And, of course, we’re helping right now, just so that you can get a break and can get the rest you deserve, before you get on to those bigger cases.”
Nan had spoken this with such a knowing air that Doreen had to laugh. “I don’t know how big they’ll be. According to Mack, we don’t have that many cold cases anymore.”
“Yep, but now that you’ve brought in the Bob Small stuff,” Nan noted, “that’s a whole different story. Plus, you still have Solomon’s research files. You won’t run out of work anytime soon. But you might run out of oomph, which is what this is all about. As long as we can help take some of the pressure off you with this legwork and initial research, you should be right as rain for the next one.”
“Thank you for that,” she said humbly. “It’s nice to know you care.”
Nan reached across, patted her hand. “Dear, I would be lost without you. Anytime you need me to help out, you just let me know.”
Doreen grinned at her grandmother. “Thank you.”
Nan gave her a wicked grin. “And I know perfectly well that you don’t really want our help,” she admitted in a conspiratorial whisper. “But it’s equally important that we have something to do to keep us sharp.”
“Of course.” Doreen laughed. “It would never do for you to become anything less than sharp. If you were any sharper, Nan, you’d be cutting my hand every time we talk.”
At that, her grandmother went off in peals of laughter. “I’ve still got it,” she replied, tapping her brain. “So good of you to notice.”
Doreen smiled at her. “Nan, you’ve always been a little bit different, a little bit off, a little bit weird and unique, but, whatever it is that you’ve got, believe me. You’ve still got it.”
And, in sheer delight, her grandmother laughed and laughed.
It went on for so long that it was hard to hear anything else, until suddenly a voice snapped, “Would you stop that?”
It was Richie, speaking through his phone.
“Good Lord. Here I’m trying to have a conversation with you, and all you keep doing is caterwauling.”
“I’m here. I’m here,” Nan replied smartly. “What did you find out?” And she heard voices in the background on Richie’s end of the call. “Laura says, it’s Peter Riley. R-I-L-E-Y. And it was Cassandra …” Nan looked back at Doreen expectantly. “Richie, are you there? I can’t hear what Cassandra’s last name was.”
“That’s because we’re looking it up,” he replied. “Just give us a minute.”
“Okay.” Nan looked over at Doreen and shrugged. “At least we’re getting you some names.”
“Absolutely,” she replied. “I still need to figure out why anybody would murder Chrissy though.”
“Well, that’s obvious,” Richie responded testily on the phone. “That nephew wanted to inherit everything.”
“But what did he inherit?” Doreen asked him curiously. “Was Chrissy wealthy?”
“Oh dear no,” Nan answered. “There were some months when we had to pitch in to help her pay for her Rosemoor bill. She would overspend her account and then couldn’t pay it off.”
Doreen stared at her grandmother. “But, if that’s the case, why would somebody kill her because obviously there wouldn’t have been very much for them to inherit.”
At that, Nan looked at her, frowning. “Well, there is that, I suppose.” She stopped and asked, “What do you think, Richie?”
“We know people who would have killed each other for a cup of coffee,” he explained, “so her argument isn’t persuading me one way or the other at the moment.”
At that, Nan nodded. “We really do have to trust in what Chrissy said. I mean, if she felt people were trying to poison her, you know I’m inclined to believe her.”