Death in a Major Read Free Page A

“Can’t you pretend it’s for you? I’m desperate here, sis.”
    â€œI can’t.” Mrs. Duffy sounded close to tears. “He’s not much happier with me than he is with you lately. He thinks I’m a failure since my marriage fell apart.”
    â€œHas he been bullying you again?”
    Mrs. Duffy sniffled.
    I jumped as a loud bang reverberated along the corridor.
    â€œKevin! Be careful!” Mrs. Duffy admonished in a hushed voice. “You almost put a hole in the wall.”
    â€œThat damn bastard,” Kevin spat. “Always trying to make everyone else miserable.”
    A door opened nearby and a draft of chilly air wafted along the corridor toward me.
    â€œWhere are you going?” Mrs. Duffy asked, her voice tight with worry.
    â€œI’ve had enough of the old miser,” Kevin said. “And I’m going to make sure we never have to deal with him ever again.”
    A door slammed shut, the noise jolting me into motion. Not wanting Mrs. Duffy to know I’d overheard the conversation, I slipped back into the reception room and pulled the door closed behind me.

 
    Chapter Two
    T HE CHAT TER OF dozens of happy voices was as soothing to my ears as a lullaby after the unsettling conversation I’d just overheard. Despite my initial curiosity, I no longer had any desire to know more about the dynamics of Mr. Major’s family. Clearly they weren’t a cheery, love-­filled bunch, and that saddened me, particularly since I was quite fond of Major’s grandson, Jordan. But perhaps the family was simply experiencing an unusual rough patch. The exchange between Mrs. Duffy and her brother led me to seriously doubt that, but what did I know? For Jordan’s sake, I hoped his family life was better than what my recent eavesdropping had suggested.
    As I made my way back through the reception room, I decided to switch my focus to something far more pleasant than Mr. Major and his family—­free food. I sampled a few fancy hors d’oeuvres and another delectable petit four. I chatted with some of my fellow musicians as I ate, enjoying both the food and the company. A viola player who’d studied music at the University of British Columbia at the same time as me had run into our music history professor the day before. We reminisced briefly about his outfits, which were always comprised of khaki pants and one of the same five hand-­knitted sweaters. Apparently, that hadn’t changed since our graduation.
    When the two of us had finished sharing our memories with the others, the group’s conversation shifted to football, a subject I knew nothing about and had little interest in. Finishing off my last morsel of cake, I decided to follow it up with a cup of tea.
    Detaching myself from the group, I headed for a hot-­water urn set on one of the white-­clothed tables. From a selection of pretty teacups set out on the table, I chose one decorated with red sweet peas and filled it with water. As I held my cup beneath the nozzle, Mr. Major wheeled himself toward me. Somehow I managed to keep my groan under my breath.
    Lucky for me, it turned out that the man was more interested in somebody else and didn’t notice me. I let out a sigh of relief as he wheeled past me to approach Dr. Daniel Beaufort, the PGP’s vice chair, who was helping himself to a cup of coffee.
    â€œMr. Major,” Beaufort greeted when he looked up and saw the other man. He didn’t sound thrilled to be in Major’s presence.
    â€œBeaufort,” Major returned, his voice holding a note of condescension. “I hope you’ve thought about what we discussed the other day.”
    I inched my way along the table, hoping to distance myself from the men and their conversation. Still, I couldn’t help but overhear their next exchange, despite the fact that Dr. Beaufort lowered his voice to little more than a harsh whisper.
    â€œThreatening me will