Web of Lies, Sally Rigby [list of e readers .TXT] 📗

‘Us. The house. In recent years, the house has started eating money. We’ve had to replace the roof. The boiler – which was as old as the hills – stopped working. The grounds take a lot to maintain. We also had school fees to pay and now we’re supporting the boys at university.’

‘Did you go on holidays? Did he buy expensive clothes and gifts?’

‘Donald always had a good car and his suits were made at Savile Row, because he said people wouldn’t invest in someone if they thought they didn’t have a lot of money themselves. We did go on delightful holidays, several times a year.’ She blushed.

‘Sarah, I’m not blaming you for any of this, you weren’t to know the situation.’

‘You might not blame me, but I do. Why didn’t I notice anything? You must think me so stupid, but Donald never involved me. And foolishly I didn’t ask. I’ll regret that for the rest of my life.'

He rested his hand on her arm. ‘You must stop being so hard on yourself. He duped you in the same way as he did to everyone else. It isn’t your fault.’

‘I suppose you’re right,’ she said, sighing. ‘Why don’t you spend some time going through his files now and then we’ll have lunch. Unless you have somewhere else to go?’

‘Lunch would be lovely, thank you.’

He followed Sarah back into the kitchen and down a corridor to the east wing of the house, stopping at the last room. Elsa was running close behind them.

‘Here’s Donald’s study,’ Sarah said, opening the door.

It was a large rectangular room with a floor to ceiling bookcase running along the far wall, a gigantic ornate wrought-iron fireplace on the other and in the centre, standing proud, was a magnificent mahogany antique desk with a dark green leather inlay. The desk was bare other than a laptop in the middle and, next to a brass photo frame, an antique silver dual-footed inkstand with glass inserts to one side of it. Behind the desk stood a Victorian style captain’s chair, with a burgundy leather seat. It was stunning. The large window and French doors overlooked the garden, and the sun’s rays made a beautiful dappled effect on the desk.

‘This is a lovely space,’ he commented.

‘Yes, we recently had it refurbished.’ Her voice fell away, as if she was embarrassed at spending the money.

He glanced around the room at the large paintings on the walls and the cream sofa with cushions that matched the deep red and cream striped curtains, pulled back with curtain ties. No expense had been spared.

‘Did Donald spend a lot of time in here?’

‘Too much. He’d be in here for hours, unless he was out visiting clients. Occasionally he’d even sleep on the sofa if he was too tired to make it upstairs. I’d moan sometimes, but it fell on deaf ears. I didn’t like to complain too much, though, because it was his hard work that gave us the lifestyle we enjoyed. Now we know the truth it’s made a mockery of our whole existence.’

‘Did he have regular contact with his clients?’

‘Yes, most weeks he’d be out with them, as far as I know. I couldn’t tell you who they were, but you’ll find details of meetings in his diary. He’d often travel to London as many of his clients were there, and he’d stay overnight if he was taking them out for dinner.’

‘Whereabouts did he stay in London?’

‘A small hotel in Knightsbridge. He talked about buying a small flat for when he was there, and for us to use when we went to the city, but he never got around to it. Thank goodness.’

She walked behind the desk, opened the middle drawer and took out a small black leather notebook which she handed to him.

‘This contains all of his passwords.’

‘Do you mind if I look through his files?’ Seb asked, pointing to the four-drawer dark wood cabinet situated in the corner of the room.

‘Not at all. Look at whatever you want. Nothing’s off limits. I don’t know what you’ll find, though, as I couldn’t bring myself to touch any of his work-related belongings.’ She stepped away from the desk and he sat down and opened the lid to the laptop.

‘I’ll be fine on my own, no need for you to hang around. You don’t mind Elsa being in here with me, do you?’

‘Of course not. I’ll pop back with a bowl of water for her. You can open the doors if she wants to go out in the garden. I’ll let you know when lunch is ready.’

The laptop password was written on the first page of the notebook, along with passwords for his bank accounts, his accounting software, and all sorts of other organisations. Sarah really should look into making password changes to any which related to her as well, as this lack of security made her far too vulnerable. But that was a discussion for another time. He didn’t want to overload her with too much to think about.

He opened the laptop and was impressed at how organised the documents were. Every folder and file within it were labelled using an easy-to-understand system, which made the task of going through everything a lot easier.

First of all, he opened the folder containing a list of clients, recorded in alphabetical order. Each client had their own file, which included a signed copy of their agreement, followed by a list of investments they’d made and when they were paid dividends. Some clients received theirs monthly, some quarterly, some every six months and some once a year. The agreements appeared watertight, requiring the client to invest their money for a minimum period. These investment periods mainly fell between five and ten years, with most of them falling into the latter. There was the provision for clients to withdraw their funds early, however, this incurred a hefty penalty of fifteen per cent of the initial investment. As some clients had invested up to two hundred