Death in a Major Read Free

blinking. “No. I’ve never met the man.”
    â€œOh.” How odd. Why would he have such an intense dislike for a man he’d never met? Unless I was mistaken about whom he’d been focused on.
    Ernest pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and patted his perspiring forehead. “Excuse me.”
    He made a direct line to the nearest waitress and snagged a flute of champagne off her tray. My eyebrows shot up as he gulped down the entire contents in no more than a second. He abandoned the empty glass on a nearby table and moved through the crowd, patting his damp forehead again.
    Weird.
    Or was it? I’d never seen Ernest act like that before, but then again, I barely knew him and had never spent time with him outside of the orchestra. For all I knew he was odd on a regular basis.
    Shrugging off Ernest’s behavior, I decided to join some of my fellow second violinists who had gathered near one of the grand arched windows, the view nothing but darkness at this time of night. I threaded my way through the clusters of ­people, making sure to stay behind Mr. Major so he wouldn’t see me and have a chance to run his sleazy eyes over me again. As I passed within a few feet of his wheelchair, Mrs. Duffy spread a small blanket over his knees.
    â€œAre you warm enough, Dad?”
    Major swatted her hand away. “Stop fussing. I don’t need your incompetent brand of help.”
    My eyes widened at the rancor in his voice. So did Mrs. Duffy’s. She choked back a sob and turned away from her father, quickly squeezing her way through the crowd.
    I glared at the back of Major’s head. What a mean old bastard.
    He continued to grumble under his breath. The frizzy-­haired woman patted his shoulder again and spoke to him in quiet, soothing tones.
    I set my empty champagne glass down on a nearby table and searched the room for Mrs. Duffy. I spotted her just as she slipped out through a door at the far end of the room. Abandoning my plan to join my fellow violinists, I worked my way through the crowded room until I reached the far door. I pushed it open and slipped out into a corridor lined with the same red carpeting as the reception room.
    There was no one in sight. I knew there was an exit around the corner, so it was possible that Mrs. Duffy had stepped outside to collect herself. I wasn’t sure if I should continue to look for her to make sure she was okay. Maybe she’d prefer to be left alone. After all, I didn’t know her particularly well. I’d taught her son, Jordan, violin for seven years, but had never talked to her for more than a few minutes at a time, and the topics of our conversations had always stayed confined to her son’s progress or lesson schedules. Certainly we’d never discussed anything personal or established any sort of friendship.
    I turned back to the door, intending to return to the reception room.
    â€œWhat are you doing here?” a female voice asked.
    I spun around, thinking the question had been aimed at me, but I was still alone.
    â€œI need some cash,” a man said.
    â€œAnd you think I have extra lying around?” I recognized the female voice as belonging to Mrs. Duffy. “You know I’m having my own financial troubles since I left Gregory.”
    I paused with my hand on the doorknob. I knew this was a conversation that wasn’t meant for my ears, but somehow I couldn’t bring myself to go back into the reception room. I’d always been too curious for my own good.
    Two quiet steps took me farther along the corridor, closer to the branch that led to the exit.
    â€œOf course I know,” the male voice said. “I need you to get some money off Dad for me.”
    â€œKevin, you know I can’t do that. If I even mention your name these days he goes through the roof.”
    The man let out a string of colorful swearwords, most of them unsavory descriptors aimed at Mr. Major Senior.