“Even though some people have mentioned that,” Nan interjected. “And I would never do that.”
“No, of course not,” Doreen acknowledged, believing her grandmother on that level implicitly. “It’s too important to you to mess up.”
She looked at her and then nodded. “See?” She pointed to Richie. “My granddaughter understands.”
He nodded. “But not everybody does,” he noted cautiously. “And, of course, if you bring it up too much, a lot of people will get upset and quite possibly get Nan into trouble.”
“Right, because you’ve been in trouble in this instance before.” Doreen frowned. “Would they kick you out of Rosemoor?”
Nan shook her head and shrugged. “They’re just old sticks-in-the-mud.” She primped her hair with her hand. “I mean, honestly, why would anybody get upset over losing a few pennies?”
“It depends whether it’s pennies or if it’s big money,” Doreen replied cautiously. “And, as I well know, your version of pennies versus my version of what are pennies are very different things.”
At that, Nan’s attention was completely diverted. “Are you broke again?”
Doreen winced. “Nan, that’s really not something I want to discuss right now, and it’s never been a case of again,” she responded. “I still haven’t gotten paid for a lot of things, so I’m still broke. It’s not again. And, no, I don’t need or want any more money from you.”
But Nan didn’t look at all convinced.
Doreen sighed and showed her palms. “When the antiques come in,” she explained, “I’ll be doing just fine.” Doreen paused. “Heck,” she muttered. “If any of that stuff finally comes in, it should be good, even Wendy’s money.” That thought reminded her entirely about the weird scenario at Wendy’s. She sighed.
“Yeah, you’re right there,” Nan agreed.
Doreen looked down at her notepad and the very lack of information she had available. “Can we stop getting side-tracked and get back to the names of the people I need to talk to, please?”
Richie supplied four more names, as well as Maude, each one making Nan gasp or turn pale—or, in one case, pinch her lips.
“So these are all people you’ve had some problems with here, Nan?” Doreen asked, looking up from the list as she read through it.
Nan slowly nodded. “I guess you could say that.”
“I’m not trying to hurt you or to upset you,” she stated gently, “but I do want to know that whoever might have hurt you will pay for what they did.”
Her grandmother gave her the tenderest of smiles. “You are a sweetheart,” she replied gently, “but I’m as tough as nails.”
“Maybe,” Richie agreed, “but your head isn’t.”
And, at that, Nan went off in gales of laughter, as if it were the best joke ever.
Chapter 11
Thursday Morning
Doreen hadn’t forgotten about Dr. Weatherby, Chrissy’s doctor. She called him, trying to not get images of skinny-dipping in her mind as she did so. Regardless, when the doc answered, Doreen explained she was Willa Anne Montgomery’s granddaughter.
He had coughed to collect himself, then asked what he could help her with.
“I know you can’t talk about your patients, even dead ones,” she began.
“Yeeees,” he replied.
“I’m calling about Chrissy Smith. I understand that she died a few months ago and that her body was cremated without an autopsy, deemed a natural death, I believe. But can you tell me if she was depressed? If you were worried about her emotionally? I just need to get a feel whether an autopsy should be done on her remains, if that is even possible.”
“Hmm. Well, you are bringing up many issues here. Some I have not enough knowledge of to give you an answer. And the others? I do believe they fall under doctor-patient privilege. Of course, if you wanted to file a lawsuit against me, the court would decide the matter.”
Doreen sighed. “I was afraid of that. But thank you for speaking with me. My nan speaks … well of you.”
Again the doc cleared his throat. And hung up on her.
“I guess I deserved that,” she muttered.
It was later Thursday morning before Doreen managed to get permission from not only the powers-that-be at Rosemoor to go talk to all the residents, looking for any eyewitnesses who didn’t realize they had seen Nan’s attacker right before it happened—but especially also the five people who seemed to dislike Nan the most, or at least the most publicly.
Her grandmother had been checked on several times throughout the night by the resident nursing staff, and, as Doreen talked to her grandmother this morning, Doreen was greatly relieved to confirm that everything was okay with Nan. That she had no problems through the night.
Nan offered, “Come down for breakfast. And we can set up a strategy for your interviews. I can give you targeted questions to ask those five haters.”
Doreen had to smile at her grandmother’s intensity. There was no keeping Nan down, at least not for long periods of time, thankfully. “Oh, I’ll come down to see you anyway,” she replied, with a giggle. “I wanted to check up on you, to see you with my own eyes.”
“I’m fine,” Nan replied, with an airy voice.
“Says you,” she muttered. “You nearly gave me a heart attack.”
Nan went off in gales of laughter.
That was a good sign that Nan had no headache or any pain when laughing. Very good sign. Doreen exhaled a long grateful breath.
“You and Richie.” Nan snorted. “I don’t know who he thinks would be his cohort in crime if I were to kick the bucket.”
Doreen rolled her eyes at that. “Well, you know, you could consider the fact that maybe neither of you should be cohorts in crime. Anyway, Nan,” she jumped in to say, “I’m packing up the animals, and we’ll be down in a few minutes.”
And, with that, she walked out in the backyard, stopped, noted a couple beautiful hydrangeas, returned inside to grab her garden shears and some twine, snipped those three big blooms—one white, one strawberry pink, and another one with a greenish tinge to it. Then she plucked two leaves, those long skinny ones from the daylilies, wrapped them around the blooms, and tied the bundle tight with the twine in a knot. And then she carried them down to her grandmother.
With the animals happily racing at her side, she walked toward Rosemoor, grateful that the animals had calmed down to the point today that they had been okay to just walk. She’d also forgotten to mention to Mack what they had done for antics to send her racing down to Nan’s at top speed. But obviously they’d known something was up. As she wondered at the mentality and the intelligence of the animals, she noted that, chances were, they were much more intelligent than even she had suspected, given their ability to suss out that Nan was in trouble.
Nan was excited to see the flowers. “Oh my, you do have a wonderful green thumb, dear. Thanks for sharing these with me.” She patted the animals as she spoke, not wanting to ignore them. “Let me put these in a vase.” She returned shortly, placing the vase of beautiful flowers on the tiny patio table, then greeted the animals all over again and finally settled in her patio chair.