Poison in the Pansies Read online

  “Well, at least he didn’t bite anybody,” he admitted grudgingly.

  “Mugs would never bite anybody,” she replied, and then she shut her mouth. Because that wasn’t true. Mugs didn’t bite anybody who was nice. But, if anybody attacked her, well, Mugs was all over them. And she sure couldn’t count on the fact that he might not bite anybody under those circumstances.

  The old guy looked at her with a knowing look and added, “All dogs bite.”

  “Again, you’re right,” she agreed. “All dogs bite, depending on the circumstances.”

  “Exactly, don’t ever expect an animal to do what you want them to do when the chips are down.”

  An absentminded tone filled his voice.

  “I don’t see you around here,” he noted abruptly.

  He probably considered himself the Sarsons Beach Police. She smiled. “I’m from the Mission Creek side.”

  “A little way away from home, aren’t you?” he asked suspiciously.

  “No, not a whole lot,” she stated quietly. “I was here on Sunday and saw a box of poison in the garden bed, so I was hoping it had been cleaned up already.”

  He frowned at her, turned to the exact same spot she spoke of, and nodded. “I cleaned it up. You could have done it when you were here,” he accused.

  “And, if I had come by vehicle, I would have,” she explained. “I came on a paddleboard, and we left the same way, so it wasn’t an easy thing to collect it and to put it safely somewhere.”

  “You could have put it in the garbage,” he stated.

  “Maybe. I was also with a cop, and he called for somebody to come clean it up, so I assumed that it was being done immediately.”

  At that, the old guy laughed. “The cops? Do something? Something like that? No way. They probably phoned the city to come do a clean-up. You know? Like in the grocery store. Clean up on aisle one.” And then he laughed at his own joke.

  For somebody who supposedly didn’t talk much, he didn’t seem to want to shut up anytime soon. She asked him, “Where did you put it?”

  “Me? I just threw it—” And then he stopped, frowned at her, and asked, “Why?”

  “I just want to make sure it was safely disposed of, so we don’t have to worry about kids in the park getting at it.”

  “Well, that’s why I cleaned it up,” he snapped, giving her that look that said she should have as well.

  “And that’s why we called the authorities,” she repeated quietly. “I just want to make sure that nobody else will get poisoned.” And, of course, he pounced on that.

  “Else? Did somebody get poisoned?”

  The question was a little convoluted. She shook her head. “I don’t think so, but I know a guy who died recently of poison. So, when I heard that, I was thinking of this stash of poison, and I didn’t want anybody to get hurt from it,” she explained, wondering why it was getting harder to talk to this guy.

  Again he nodded. “Well, I put it away.”

  “You put it away?” she asked. “What does that mean?” He just glared at her. She held up a hand. “Sorry. I’m not trying to get too personal. I just want to make sure that it’s disposed of properly.”

  “Well, I wonder if your properly done disposal is the same as mine,” he snapped. “In my day, we never would have left that out in the open for somebody to grab. We would have put it away on the top shelf in the back corner of a garage.” He just glared at her.

  She nodded. “Well, hopefully nobody will have access to it there.”

  “Of course not,” he retorted. “Pretty sure it was mine anyway.”

  At that, she stiffened. “Did you have a break-in recently?”

  He shrugged. “In my day, we didn’t lock up, like we have to now. Today it seems like just having a door means an open door. It used to be, if there was a door, locked or not, people respected it and didn’t walk in.”

  “And so you didn’t keep it locked, and somebody walked in and helped themselves, is that it?”

  He didn’t say anything, just continued to glare at her.

  Doreen nodded. “Well, I’m sure the cops wouldn’t hold anything against you, if that were the case.”

  “Cops? What cops?” he asked, frowning at her. “I don’t talk to no cops.”

  “Right,” she replied, wondering at the added crankiness. “I just meant that, if anybody had been hurt by it, nobody would blame you if somebody had come in and broken into your place to steal your rat poison.”

  “No, of course they wouldn’t.” He stared at her. “Why would you even think that? Rat poison can be purchased anywhere. Besides mine is old and at this point a mix of rat poisons.”

  “I don’t know,” she murmured. “It was just a thought that crossed my mind.” She shook her head in confusion. “Why a mix?”

  “Because I got some of a different brand from my brother way back when and forgot I had the box and bought a newer one a some point, but there was no point in keeping two so I dumped them altogether, not that it’s any of your business,” he snapped, then walked away, muttering something about “Stupid people. Interfering nosy-bodies …”

  She watched him leave, and then, with the animals at her side, she hopped up to see just how far away he lived. She could hardly tell Mack that the poison had been picked up and was suspiciously taken from this old guy’s house if she didn’t at least have a name, and she highly doubted that the cranky old man would give her one—certainly not now. The only way she could get any evidence for Mack to pursue would be if she found out where he lived.

  So, proceeding cautiously, knowing that this guy could cause her quite a lot of grief if he thought she was up to something, she watched as he disappeared into an cheap house that needed a lot of work at the end of the block. Well, not so much a cheap home but one which hadn’t been properly kept and maintained, like the other ones on this street. After all, this was prime real estate, close to the park, close to the beach.

  She casually walked past the house he had entered, jotted down the number, without trying to make it look like she was, and then headed around the block, so that he wouldn’t think that she’d come deliberately after him. As soon as she was clear, she and her animals hopped back into her vehicle and drove home.

  At least the whole time that she’d been with the old guy, Mugs hadn’t caused any disruption. Matter of fact, he just laid at her feet, ignoring the world going on around her. And that was a bit weird in itself too, but he seemed to be comfortable with the old man, so why wasn’t she?

  Chapter 6

  Back home again, Doreen sat down, added to her notes. She still didn’t have anything concrete but was a little bit closer to something, even if she didn’t know what that something was. She made herself a pot of coffee and waited in anticipation for it to be done.

  When Nan phoned, just as she poured a fresh cup of coffee, she stared down at the Caller ID number and wondered if she should answer. If Nan invited her for a visit, Doreen would feel like she’d have to go—but she had just made coffee. … A limited supply in her world.

  Nan continued to let the call ring on Doreen’s phone.

  Doreen quickly answered it, before it went to her voice mail. “Hey, Nan.”

  “What were you doing? Sitting there with coffee?”

  Doreen laughed because it was so close to the truth. “I just made a fresh pot of coffee,” she admitted, “and I was afraid to answer the phone, in case you would want me to come down for a visit, and I would lose out on the fresh-brewed hot coffee.” She had explained in such a woebegone voice that her grandmother laughed.

  “I would have at least waited until you’d had your coffee,” she noted, still chuckling. “Besides, you do need to come down. We have some information.” And, with that, she hung up.

  Doreen stared down at the phone with a gasp. “You did not just do that.”

  What was with everybody hanging up on her? And, of course, she wouldn’t discuss the fact that she hung up on Mack all the time. That was Ma
ck; he deserved it. But for Nan to hang up on her own granddaughter? Surely Doreen didn’t deserve her grandmother hanging up on her all the time. Mystified at what they could possibly have found, and yet, at the same time, worried and wondering what Doreen should be doing about it now, she sipped her coffee, considering her options. When her coffee was cool enough to drink, Doreen almost chugged it.

  She groaned. “And that’s why I didn’t want to answer Nan’s phone call,” she muttered to herself. She looked down at the animals, staring up at her hungrily. “And we didn’t even eat,” she muttered. She fed them a little bit of dry food and quickly made herself a sandwich. When everybody was done eating, and the prep mess was cleaned up, Doreen sent her grandmother a text. On my way. She didn’t get an acknowledgment, but, hey, she was pretty sure that her grandmother had gotten the message and would wait for her.

  At least this way Nan could put on the tea. She had the uncanny ability to figure out exactly when Doreen was coming or how long it would take her to get to Rosemoor because, every time she and her animals appeared for a visit with Nan, the tea was already steeping. By the time the group of them walked down to the center today, Nan was sitting outside, waiting for them.

  Doreen smiled. “How do you always know when I’m coming?”

  “Well, you did text me,” Nan replied, her eyes wide, as she stared at her granddaughter.

  “I did,” she agreed. “I just figured, when I didn’t hear from you, I didn’t know if you saw it.”

  “Of course I saw it,” she stated, with a wave of her hand. “No point in responding since you were on your way.”

  “True.” She sat down, as Nan gushed over Mugs and Goliath. Thaddeus, not to be outdone, walked down Doreen’s arm onto the table and pecked a musical rhythm against the hot teapot. Nan just laughed at him.

  “You are such a joy to have around.” And, sure enough, he walked up her arm and sat on her shoulder and just cuddled in.

  “I don’t think he’ll ever forget you,” Doreen noted. “You two have quite a bond.”

  “So do you two.” Nan chuckled. “And that’s the way it should be.”

  Doreen wasn’t sure what that meant but was happy to just wait and to let her grandmother talk when she was ready. By the time ten minutes had gone by though, Doreen was getting impatient. “So what information do you have?” she asked.

  Nan looked at her. “I’m not sure I’m ready to share it yet.”

  Doreen stared at her, nonplussed. “I thought that’s why you wanted me to come down.”

  “I always want you to come down and visit,” she stated. “That’s not the point.”

  “No, of course not,” she agreed, and then she sighed. “So this is just a visit? You don’t have anything concrete?”

  “Well, of course we have something concrete,” she stated in astonishment. “I wouldn’t have told you that we had something if we didn’t.”

  At that, Doreen groaned. “Nan, could you just tell me what you found out?”

  “Oh, sure.” Nan smiled. “As long as you realize that our investigation isn’t complete.”

  “Of course not,” she replied. “Investigations are always ongoing. We aren’t looking for complete as much as we’re looking for information to lead us into the right direction.”

  “Well, in that case,” she added, “I definitely have something.”

  Doreen looked at her and waited.

  “Let me get my notes.” Nan got up and went into the other room, and, when she returned, she had a notepad. “Chrissy started talking—as far as anybody here knows—months before she died.”

  “Talking about what?” Doreen asked, all down to business.

  “Talking about being poisoned.”

  “And did anybody tell her to go to the doctor and to get checked out?”

  “Oh, yes, of course, dear,” she stated. “Several of us told her to call the police. But she was starting to, you know, get a little bit …” Nan looked up at Doreen, looping her finger in a circle around her ear. “You know? She was getting quite forgetful, and she was quite fanciful, I guess is a good word,” she noted. “So, over time, we all just stopped listening to her.”

  “And when you say, over time, you mean in the months before her death?”

  “Yes, of course. It couldn’t have gone on any longer. She died, dear. Pay attention.”

  At that, Doreen let out her breath slowly and then nodded. “You’re right. Go ahead.”

  Satisfied, Nan looked down at her notes, reading something before speaking again. “And then, about a month before she died, she started saying that it would happen soon. It would happen soon.”

  “And do you know what it was?”

  “She wouldn’t clarify. She kept saying that she would be dead soon, and we all assumed that’s what she meant. It would happen soon, as in, she would die soon. Which, of course, as you know, she was totally correct because she did.”

  “Right,” she agreed carefully. “She did die soon, but it was still another month later, right?”

  “Yes, exactly,” Nan confirmed, “so it wasn’t all that soon. Or it was, depends on your definition of soon.”

  As Nan looked to be gearing up for another discussion on the perspective on time and soon, Doreen asked, “What other notes have you got written down there?”

  Nan’s focus returned to her notes. She mumbled through something, as she ticked off and crossed off a few things. “Her nephew inherited everything,” she shared. “We thought that was suspicious.”

  “And why is that?”

  “Because she has a daughter.”

  “Okay. Any idea why her daughter was excluded from the will?”

  “No, that didn’t make any sense to us,” she replied. “Chrissy rarely talked about her daughter, but she was family, so we naturally assumed that her daughter would have been at least mentioned in Chrissy’s will.”

  “Of course. And where does the daughter live?”

  “I don’t know.” Nan looked up at her, with a frown. “We haven’t been able to figure that out.”

  “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.”