Murder in the Marigolds Dale Mayer (read 50 shades of grey .TXT) 📖

is gone, the better. Actually it would be best if he is charged with Robin’s murder. That would suit the two of them and serve them both right.”

“Well, Robin is dead,” she said, feeling a little bit more gratitude toward the woman, after seeing what was on that last key.

“But still, they both did you wrong,” Nan said.

“Oh, he’s not making any apologies. Don’t worry,” she said. “He is still talking about bringing me back with him, although why he thinks I would even want to do that, I don’t know. And he certainly isn’t offering me any money.”

“Of course not. Money is all about power for him,” Nan said. “And you don’t want any exposure to any of that.”

Doreen shook her head. “No, I don’t. But back to you and this little wager you’ve got going. If Mack finds out that you’re betting again, he won’t be happy with you.”

“Mack knows,” she said, with a wave of her hand. “Besides, Richie talks to his grandson all the time. I’m sure somebody there knows.”

“You can’t get away with this all the time, Nan. You must stop. You have to consider the fact that it’s putting their positions in jeopardy too.”

“Pish-posh,” Nan said, with another wave of her hand. “These guys have known about it for years.”

“So, you didn’t start it when you arrived here?”

“When I moved into Rosemoor? No, of course not,” she said, wide-eyed. “We’ve been betting on everything in this place for years. I’ve always had friends here. I just have more now.”

“I’m surprised they let you in, if you were the instigator behind all this betting,” she muttered, as she snagged up the second croissant.

Nan sat back, with a satisfied look on her face, as she watched Doreen break it open and slather whatever that creamy goodness was on it. Nan said, “You still need to eat up. You’re not that rounded yet.”

“I’m not trying to be rounded, thank you,” she said, looking at Nan in horror. “I think just maintaining my current weight would be lovely.”

“Well, you can’t maintain it, if you’re not eating.”

“I had food last night, and it was quite good,” Doreen replied.

She nodded. “Lucky you didn’t end up with indigestion,” she said, “given the company.”

“Well, it certainly gave me a lot to think about afterward.”

“Did you sleep?”

“Like a baby,” she said cheerfully. “Only he woke me up this morning.”

“Please don’t tell me that Mathew spent the night?” Nan said, looking irritated.

Doreen looked at her in horror. “No, of course not,” she said. “I told you that it’s not that type of relationship.”

“Maybe not,” she said, “but I wouldn’t put it past that guy to try to wiggle his way back into your bed.”

“Well, he didn’t,” she said firmly, as she bit down onto the croissant and chewed.

Nan nodded wisely. “Good, because that’s Mack’s bed.”

Doreen started to gasp and choke at the same time. “It is not Mack’s bed.” She leaned forward, hissing at her grandmother under her breath.

“Sure, it is,” Nan said. “You just haven’t gotten yourself up to snuff yet.”

Groaning, she sat back and said, “I’m not ready.”

“Good,” Nan said. “Glad to hear it. That means you know your own mind.”

“Of course I do,” she said. “I’m not a fool, but I feel like I can’t trust my own judgment yet. Look what I chose.”

“Honey, you’re not the same person you were back then. You’re not that naive young girl. And Mack is a good man.”

“He is. Yes, I know that—”

“Don’t you but me,” Nan said.

“I didn’t say but,” Doreen protested.

“Good thing. Good thing,” she said. Nan then sat back, picked up her tea, with a look of satisfaction, and sipped it.

Not exactly sure what that look was all about, Doreen finished her croissant in a hurry and said, “Besides, I think Mathew is leaving town this morning.”

Immediately Nan leaned forward. “Which flight?”

“I don’t know. He just said he had to leave this morning.”

“He wanted to know if there was anything else, I suppose.”

“Of course,” she said. “He also still seemed to think that Robin had given me something. He didn’t understand that Robin threw a fit when she was at my house, and absolutely no way did she give me anything.”

“No, I can imagine,” Nan said calmly. “Well, the sooner he is gone, the better.”

“I couldn’t argue with that.” And then Doreen noticed that Nan was writing down notes. “Are you using our conversations for your betting?”

“Of course I am,” she said. “All is fair in love and war, and, when it comes to bets, it’s war,” she said, with a cheeky smile.

“It’s also illegal, Nan.”

“Don’t be a stick in the mud,” she said. “You keep getting your nose into Mack’s business, and I’m pretty sure he figures that’s illegal.”

“Not as illegal as yours.”

At that, Nan looked up, her eyes widened, and said, “You mean, there are degrees of illegal?”

“You know what I mean,” Doreen protested.

“Nope, not sure I do,” she said, “and I doubt that you could explain it either.”

Flummoxed, Doreen sat back, with the last bit of croissant in her hand. She dropped her hand onto her lap, with a sigh, and Mugs took it right out of her fingers. “Mugs, what are you doing?” she wailed. “That last bite was for me.”

His tail thumped like crazy, as he sat there, looking at her, hopeful for more. Thaddeus hopped off Nan’s shoulder, then walked across the table to the last two croissants and immediately started pecking away on one.

Doreen reached down, snatched up the croissants, and said, “Oh, no, you don’t.”

But one of the croissants flew off the plate and landed on the ground. Immediately Thaddeus flew after it, but Mugs got there first, and, with the two of them fighting over the one croissant, she stared in dismay at the chaos.

Nan was too busy laughing to be upset. She said, “Go ahead. Take that last one home with you. But this time make sure you don’t share it with the others.”

“I didn’t intend to share that one,” she