Chapter 11-

“This is news to me. All Metya told me was she had met you briefly and that I should keep an eye on you. Logically, when Tydeus started to push their noses into your spa trip, I just had to intervene. It stops at that! Attempted murder shall be the end of their villainy.”

“But I’m also part of all this, you know.”

“You must be involved with the businesses somehow. I don’t understand it, but Metya might have-especially if she knew that your life might be… you know.”

I sighed.

“I don’t know either. I wish I did, but nothing is certain anymore…

“Yet, I still want to know who killed my husband-”

“Do you think that he is what started all of this? Really?”

“Well, what do you think? That Metya happened to give me a letter on the eve of her death; the day after my estranged husband died too. It’s got to be connected!”

“Not necessarily…”  It felt like I might be testing Chloe’s patience.

“But doesn’t being in business with a great rival open your eyes to every possibility?”

“I don’t jump to conclusions, Mrs. Howard!” Chloe cried.

“Well, I just feel that this has to be more than a coincidence.”

Chloe frowned, most likely unconvinced. She glanced at the clock on the tarnished mantelpiece and exclaimed.

“I must be going…. I’m sorry, Mrs. Howard, but I was told to keep an eye on you, not babysit you; I didn’t think things would get so…dangerous.”

“In all due respect, Chloe, i don’t need babysitting. Tell your bosses to make sure that this…Tydeus doesn’t get in my way again. Please.”

“Oh, of course, we will,” Chloe said with a smile that was definitely sneaky, “Is there someone I can call on my way back to work and get them here in a jiffy? Not to look after you, but for company too.”

I nodded solemnly, “Yes there’s my son.”

“…Who is…?”

“Steven Howard. He’s at the local college.”

“Okay,” Chloe stood up briskly, subconsciously gathering her cloak about her thin body. Her hair continued its steady rhythm of bobbing up and down, and her dark eyes roamed the house for one last time. She walked to the door, almost in a ghostly fashion, and turned as her right hand unlocked it.

“Don’t expect to see us again.”

I scowled.

“What? Why? You’re just a business.”

“A private business,” she said, and smartly turned back to the exit and walked away.

I hoped that she wouldn’t face the same fate of her CEO, but I had a feeling that I was never going to see her again.

The End

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