Brenda Joyce - Deadly Kisses

Francesca would have been consumed with guilt for her deception, but there was too much worry and hurt. She could not get past the fact that Hart had admitted to holding Daisy in his arms, obviously grieving for her. She reminded herself that he had every right. After all, she still cared for Bragg. She would grieve until the day she died if anything ever happened to him. Why couldn’t she accept that Hart had continued to care for Daisy, too?

Because she had always been jealous of the fact that Hart had once wanted Daisy enough to keep her as a mistress.

Francesca did not want to think about how insecure Daisy had always made her feel. She took a breath and plunged into the fray. “Rick, I arrived just a few moments before I bumped into Hart. When I arrived, the front door was ajar. I found Rose with Daisy, in grief. There was no sign of a murder weapon. I covered up the body and I also thought to look for the killer, as I heard a noise in the hall. That is when I ran into Calder on the stairs.”

“And you went to Daisy, for what reason?”

Francesca reached into her beaded velvet evening bag and handed him the note. He read it and gave it to Newman. “Tag it,” he said. He faced Hart. “And the note Daisy sent you?”

Hart was rubbing his jaw. “It’s probably on my desk, where I left it.”

“I’m afraid I will need it, Calder.”

“I’ll send it to you,” Hart said. He walked away from Bragg and Francesca, as if deep in thought. Francesca watched him, aware of Bragg watching her. This was one case that she was not going to be enthusiastic about working on. She turned to Bragg. “Rose has admitted to finding Daisy murdered, Rick. I think we need to pursue her as a suspect, as distasteful as that is.”

Bragg spoke, not to Francesca but to Hart. “You have a houseful of witnesses, do you not, who will testify that you were at your home from the time you arrived there, at approximately 8:00 p.m., until you left for Daisy’s at half past eleven?”

Hart faced them from a distance. “Alfred let me in when I returned from the depot. I am sure he saw me go out.”

Bragg made a note. “And your driver can certainly testify to taking you to Daisy’s at half past eleven, can he not?”

Hart’s expression was impassive. “I took a cab.”

Francesca almost groaned. “Rick! Hart was at home for at least three hours! I am sure quite a few staff can testify to that.”

Bragg looked at her, not responding.

Francesca felt some panic bubble. Rick did not believe all that Hart had said.

“Rick, I want to speak to you alone,” Hart suddenly said.

Francesca was instantly alarmed. “Calder!”

“No.” His eyes had become shards of steel. “I wish to speak with my brother privately.”

Francesca’s worry knew no bounds. She hesitated and Rick said, “I want to speak to him alone, as well. Francesca, it is late. I will finish with Hart and he can take you home, as long as you promise me you will come in first thing in the morning to give an official statement.” He smiled at her.

But she did not smile back. If they wished to speak alone, then they were going to discuss her—or discuss something they did not wish for her to hear. When both men united against her, it was a losing battle. She looked at Rick, who was smiling too benignly at her, then glanced at Hart, who was not smiling at all. He appeared ruthlessly determined, but to do what?

“I’ll take you home in a few minutes,” Hart said.

She knew she could not prevent this private discussion. She sighed and faced Rick. “Of course I’ll come in tomorrow morning. What about Rose?”

“I’m going to interview her in a moment, if she is up to the task. If not, I will send her home with a police escort and speak with her in the morning, as well.”

Francesca would be shocked if Rose were ever proven to be the killer. She felt very sorry for the woman. “Rick, she is in mourning.”

“I know.” He laid his hand on her back and guided her across the room to the door. “Newman? Why don’t you see Miss Cahill downstairs and begin speaking with Rose.”

“Aye, sir,” Newman said.

HART WATCHED FRANCESCA LEAVE. He was very deter mined, but a part of him almost called her back. Before the door closed she sent him a reassuring look. He knew her so well now, better than he had ever known anyone. Therefore, he had not a single doubt that Francesca genuinely wanted to comfort him, just as he knew she wanted to protect him. It was amazing, and he knew that later he’d be grateful. Tonight, however, he had no use for any emotions whatsoever, not even those engendered by his fiancée. Tonight, he refused to feel anything at all.

Images of Daisy filled his mind, her anger, her tears, and later, her bloody corpse.

Hart turned to Rick and said, “I do not want Francesca involved in this investigation, not in any way. She thinks to protect me but it is hardly necessary.”

Bragg’s tawny brows lifted. “I could not agree more. How noble of you.”

Inwardly he seethed. “We both know I am not noble, Rick, so don’t even begin. But even I am not rotten enough to put Franesca in the awkward position of defending me in the murder of my ex-mistress.” He did not want his past with Daisy—or any woman—thrown up in Francesca’s face, time and again. In fact, he had regretted his hedonistic past ever since meeting Francesca, or shortly there after. Although he could not change the past, he hoped to keep Francesca as far removed from it as he could. Yet to night, the past had somehow caught up with them both.

“I could almost believe you are putting Francesca first,” Rick said, “except we both know you are not.”

Hart despised his brother’s self-righteous, judgmental nature. “Let’s finish, Rick.” His temper was explosive and that felt good.

But Rick was clearly not finished. “You don’t want Francesca to know why you went to see your mistress tonight, do you?” Rick was furious. “We both know you did not ride downtown to go over her expenses and accounts.”

Hart saw red. “Fuck you. I did not visit Daisy to sleep with her.”

Rick stared. Finally said, “Then why? Because only some very urgent dispute or crisis would rouse you so late at night.”

He tensed. Daisy’s sobs filled his mind, and the image was hateful. “I told you, it was a matter of finances. I’m not even sure what, exactly, the matter involved. She probably wanted more funds. I had asked her to leave the house last month, earlier than we had agreed. She refused and I had decided to let it go. Maybe she was going to ask me for a payoff.” He smiled coldly. “But we will never know now, will we?”

“How interesting this is, your word against the word of a dead woman. Why did you ask Daisy to leave the house earlier than the two of you had agreed she would go?”

Hart had to hand it to his half brother—Rick never missed a trick. Calder had learned long ago to stick as closely to the truth as possible. “She had become difficult, even malicious, toward me—and worse, toward Francesca. I was angry with her and I had had enough.”

Bragg’s brows rose. “Were you angry with her to night?”

“No,” Hart said, and that was the truth.

Rick saw it, too, because he nodded. “Is there anything else you wish to add?”

“No.”

Rick nodded again. “Come in tomorrow afternoon. Your statement will be ready and you can sign it.” He hesitated. “It wouldn’t hurt, Calder, to bring your lawyer with you.”

Hart stiffened. “I don’t need a lawyer, because I did not murder anyone.”

Rick shrugged and started for the door.

Hart seized him from behind. “I meant what I said. I do not want Francesca working this case with you. Turn her away, Rick, when you see her tomorrow. She doesn’t need this.”