Dagger in Dahlias by Dale Mayer

Author:Dale Mayer [Mayer, Dale]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery & Detective, Cats & Dogs, Women Sleuths, Fiction, Cozy, Mystery
ISBN: 9781773361444
Google: 0l5-DwAAQBAJ
Publisher: Valley Publishing. Ltd
Published: 2019-04-02T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 15

Friday Later Afternoon …

“Okay, definitely time for a change of conversation. Do you know anybody here who is an oldie?” Doreen asked with a smile. “If so, maybe you could ask them about Johnny.”

“I have,” Nan said. “But nobody appears to know anything.”

“Well, it was a faint hope. But you did call me for something, didn’t you?”

Nan looked at her in surprise, and then her face lit up. “Oh my, I completely forgot.” She hopped up, walked into her living quarters, and came back out. “I asked Richie because I know he’s been here since Kelowna was basically established,” she said. “Lovely man.”

Doreen desperately wanted to ask if he needed blue pills but needed to keep the conversation straight and not let her grandmother go sideways.

“He did say not all was well within the group.”

“How does he know?”

“The girl in question who died a year ago was his niece. His great-niece. And he said she had a lot of trouble with the gang.”

“Gang, meaning all of them?”

“Yes. Apparently she was a little too free and easy with her affections,” Nan said. “And her great-uncle didn’t like that one bit. But, when he questioned her about it, she said she stopped going out with Johnny because she found someone else.”

“Any idea who that was?” Doreen asked, sinking back into her chair. “I don’t know that it matters at this stage, but it would be interesting to know who.”

“I’m not sure,” Nan said. “But, if anybody could figure it out, it would be you.”

“What’s Richie’s last name?”

“Smithson,” Nan said. “He is a lovely chap.”

“How old is he?”

“I think he’s eighty-two, maybe eighty-three,” Nan said. “It doesn’t really matter though. His mind is as sharp as anything.”

“Good,” Doreen said. “Maybe you could ask him some questions about the accident.”

Nan reached across the little bistro table, pulled up her phone, and sent a text.

“Did you just text him?”

Nan lifted her face to study her granddaughter. “Are you having some memory problems, dear? You just asked me to question him about the accident.”

Oh, dear. Another rabbit-hole moment. Doreen shook her head. “No, I was wondering if you were though because—just moments ago—you told me nobody here knew anything.”

“Sure, but that’s not Richie. Richie is different,” she said with a wave of her hand. “He’s not anybody. He’s special.”

And again the questions were itching to flow from her lips, but she dared not. Then she couldn’t help herself. “Special in what way?” she asked.

“Not that way,” Nan said shortly. “No better way to ruin a friendship than having sex, my dear.” She lifted her head again from her phone, holding it, as if waiting for Richie to get back to her immediately. “You should remember that with Mack.”

Doreen stopped and stared. “You’re the one who just told me that Mack and I would do well for having a romp together.” She snorted. “How does it figure that now you are telling me not to?”

“Oh, my dear, I’m not telling you not to,” she said. “Absolutely go and do it.

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