Read Online Deadly Kisses by Brenda Joyce - Free Book Online

murder all night, endlessly analyzing the little evidence she currently had. Maybe today Hart would tell her why he had called on Daisy. Maybe she would find a new lead, one that would point her in the direction of the real killer. As distasteful as it was, she had to acknowledge that Rose’s behavior that evening had been odd and suspicious. Francesca could not come to terms with the concept of Rose murdering her best friend and lover, but she was clearly on the police’s list of suspects and she would have to be considered a possible perpetrator. She could certainly deflect attention from Hart. Instead of worrying about what Hart might be hiding, she was going to focus all of her attention and efforts on finding the brutal killer. Sooner rather than later, she would interview Rose at length.
    Francesca added some pins to her jaunty blue hat and left the dressing room, her long dark skirts swirling about her. She grabbed her reticule as she left the bedroom, having already placed her small derringer inside. A servant was coming up the corridor toward her. “Miss Cahill? You have a caller.”
    Francesca was taken aback. A call at eight in the morning was unheard of. This had to be urgent. “Is it Hart?”
    The servant handed her a business card. “It is a Mr. Arthur Kurland, ma’am.”
    Francesca was filled with surprise and anger. Kurland was a newsman from the Sun. Usually he accosted her outside of her home or on the street. He had never dared to call in such a social way before.
    â€œShould I send him away, ma’am?”
    Francesca was certain he had learned of Daisy’s murder. Half of the city’s newsmen kept shop in a brown stone right across thestreet from headquarters, on the lookout for a hot scoop. As he seemed to have some kind of personal animosity toward Francesca, he had surely come to gloat over the fact that the murder victim was Hart’s ex-mistress. Francesca had no doubt he had come to pry for information.
    Oh, she would see him, all right. She would carefully feed him misinformation that pointed him in any direction but Hart’s. “No. Where is my father?”
    â€œHe is in the breakfast room.”
    Francesca quickly led the way downstairs. She did not want Andrew learning of Daisy’s murder, not until the police had an official suspect, other than Hart. Francesca had little doubt that if Andrew learned of the murder now, it would put the final nail in the coffin of his disapproval of her engagement. He would never give Hart another chance. “I’ll entertain Mr. Kurland in the Blue Room, Mary. Bring two cups of coffee, please.” As she entered the spacious front hall, she pinched her cheeks, regretting her earlier decision to forgo rouge.
    She must not let Kurland suspect that anything was wrong. So she smiled, sailing forward to where he waited at the hall’s other end, by the front door. His brows slowly rose as she paused before him and he carefully scrutinized her face.
    Francesca hoped she did not look exhausted or distressed. “Good morning, Mr. Kurland. My, this is a surprise.”
    He was a slim man in his thirties with brownish hair and wearing an ill-fitting, equally brownish suit. He grinned. “I think the surprise is mine. You’re not going to give me the boot?”
    â€œIf you are calling in such a pleasant manner, there must be an interesting matter to discuss.” She gestured and he preceded her into a pale blue room with mint-green ceilings, gilded paneling and several lush seating arrangements. He paused before the large white-and-gold marble fireplace. Francesca closed the mahogany doors behind her.
    â€œI don’t know if murder should be described as interesting,except that maybe it is interesting to you, because you are a sleuth.” He smiled widely. “Come, do not play innocent with me!”
    â€œAre we discussing the terrible, untimely demise of Miss Jones?” Francesca