Free The Villa of Death: A Mystery Featuring Daphne du Maurier (Daphne du Maurier Mysteries) by Joanna Challis Page B

use.
    Ellen rose from her desk. “Do sit down. Do you care for coffee? Tea?”
    I saw an empty tea tray on her desk. “No, we’re fine and I’m so sorry we’re late. It was the—”
    “Traffic,” the major put in. “Dastardly this time of year.”
    Ellen looked from him to me. Her face registered mild surprise since last she knew I hated him and refused to spend a minute in his company. I longed to explain matters. I didn’t want her to think me a weak-willed woman.
    “Well.” Ellen resumed her seat wearily.
    The question remained in her eyes. I’d gone to invite the major to come at three, not to spend the day with him. But she didn’t know why I’d gone with him. I’d gone with him because I suspected he knew something, something he wished to keep private between himself and Ellen.
    “The business I have is private,” he began, “I think it best if we discuss it alone.”
    Ellen glanced up from her desk. There were great dark shadows under her eyes. “I couldn’t sleep last night. My mind, you know. I was thinking of Teddy’s tombstone and what he’d like upon it. Of course, I know he’d prefer to be buried in America but I can’t bear the thought of him going home cold on that ship. I’ve had a terrible row about it with his sisters. They insist he goes back but I can’t let him go. Is that wrong of me?”
    “Unless there is monetary gain, everybody loses in the business of death,” the major murmured, then reiterating the need for privacy.
    “No, I want Daphne here,” Ellen replied firmly, leaving her desk to walk to the window. She stood there a moment, her slim frame silhouetted by the pale afternoon glow. “I’ve had two house calls today. Teddy’s accountant and solicitor. I knew he was wealthy but I had no idea of how complicated his businesses are. There.” She indicated to a box on the floor full of fat blue folders. “It’s only a start. Mr. Berting, that’s Teddy’s accountant, has tried to put things simply but I can’t understand it. I wonder if you might help me, Major Browning? If both of you might help me? Apart from my daughter, I have no family and even fewer that I trust. Harry is here, of course, but he manages Thornleigh for me; he has no business head and nor do I.”
    “Employing a proper business manager might be better,” advised the major.
    “Teddy loved his businesses. They were like pets to him and as his widow, I feel it my duty to look after these pets, particularly when there are many wolves at large.”
    Her gaze fell upon a couple walking outside in the garden. I strained my neck so I could see who it was. Dean Fairchild and cousin Jack.
    “Your husband,” the major began, “was involved in two major deals in the last year. Such business brought him to England.”
    “Yes. That’s true.”
    “And you contacted him when he arrived?”
    “Yes, that’s also true. I confronted him with Charlotte. He was astounded by how the child looks like him and offered me money. I refused. He started then to make amends with regular visits and taking us out to dinner.”
    “During that time, did he ever talk about his work? The two deals?”
    Ellen thought back. “A little. I remember the names … Salinghurst and Gildersberg. Teddy said he had an interest in those two companies.”
    “More than an interest. He holds a forty-percent share in Salinghurst and recently acquired one hundred–percent holding in Gildersberg.”
    “He owns Gildersberg then?” A slight crease showed on Ellen’s brow. “What does this have to do with his death?”
    “Read the headlines.”
    Ellen blinked at the newspaper thrust into her hands. “Gildersberg’s share prices collapsed this morning with the news of its director’s passing, a Mr. Teddy Grimshaw, of Boston, Massachusetts. It is reported that Mr. Grimshaw had ambitious plans for the German food chain company…”
    “Salinghurst and Gildersberg are competitors,” the major explained. “I suspect your husband