Read Online Brenda Joyce - [Francesca Cahil 03] by Deadly Affairs - Free Book Online Page B

Another door was partially ajar; inside, Francesca glimpsed a sleeping man, more mattresses, one chair, and a small bureau.
    She had been inside tenements before. But never one as crowded and inhumane as this.
    Somehow, she smiled at the old lady. “Hello, Mrs. Jadvic. I am Francesca Cahill.” She extended her hand.
    The old woman just looked at her. Then, “What you want?” She spoke with a heavy Polish accent.
    Francesca pointed at the little blond girl with big blue eyes sucking on the teat. “Is that Mary O’Shaunessy’s daughter?”
    Before the old lady could answer, the front door opened and another woman entered, in a stained and faded brown coat. The hem was coming undone, but the woman’s blond hair was pinned beneath a new red scarf. Her hazel eyes were bright. She looked from Joel to Francesca and her brows shot up. “Joel?”
    “Hi, Mrs. Jadvic,” Joel said. “This is Miz Cahill, from uptown.”
    “I see that,” Mrs. Jadvic said. She had a slight accent, not as strong as her mother-in-law’s. Francesca could not determine her age—she might be twenty, thirty, or forty; she was too worn-looking to tell.
    “Miz Cahill’s a sleuth,” Joel continued. “She’s here to solve Mary’s murder. To find out who dun it.”
    Francesca had already taken one of her cards out of her purse. She handed it to Mrs. Jadvic, who put her bag of groceries down. The tired blonde said, “I don’t read.”
    “I am a sleuth, Mrs. Jadvic. And Maggie Kennedy hasretained my services. She wants to know who murdered Mary O’Shaunessy, and why.”
    Mrs. Jadvic bit her lip and tears filled her eyes. “Them two are hers. We can’t keep ’em. We just can’t.”
    Francesca looked at the blond girl with the big blue eyes, who had thrown her teat aside. Then she looked at another skinny little girl, this one with dishwater brown hair and the exact same big blue eyes. She wondered if she could bring the girls home until they were placed with a real family; then she recalled that she was on a probation of sorts with her parents. The girls would have to go, temporarily, to a foster home or an orphanage, she realized. It hurt her thinking about it.
    The older sister seemed to understand her thoughts, because her expression turned sullen and she took the little blonde’s hand and gripped it tightly. The smaller child made a sound of protest.
    “I will find them a home,” Francesca said abruptly, turning back to Mrs. Jadvic. And the sisters would not be torn apart. “How long can you keep them here?” she asked.
    “I cannot feed them. I can’t feed my own,” Mrs. Jadvic said tiredly. “When Mary was alive, it was different. She gave me five dollars every week for them, and she came home late Saturday night, returning to the Janson house on Monday morning.”
    Francesca took out a pen and notepad. She wrote down “Janson house.” Do you have an address for the Jansons?” she asked.
    “They’re on Madison Square, twenty-fourth, I think,” she said.
    Francesca wrote “Mad Sq.” on her pad. That was where Bragg lived. “Were you—” She stopped.
    Bragg lived on Madison Square in a very nice town house with his servant, Peter. He had several bedrooms. Oh, dear, he might be furious at first, but couldn’t he keepthe two girls until she placed them? It broke her heart, sending them to an orphan asylum.
    “Lady?” Joel asked curiously.
    Francesca wet her lips. “Mrs. Jadvic? Have the police been by?”
    She nodded. “But I wasn’t home. They said they would come back. My mother-in-law told them about the girls. One of the detectives said he would take care of moving them, that he would alert the proper people.”
    Like a sack of potatoes,
Francesca thought with heat. “We do not have much time,” she murmured.
    “Wut?” Joel asked.
    “Mrs. Jadvic? Can you pack up the girls’ things? I have a nice home for them to stay in until we find them new parents.” Francesca walked over to the girl with dishwater