Chapter 7 #2
“I found this hidden in Daisy’s bedroom. Every single newspaper clipping contains an article about Judge Richard Gillespie or a mention of him. Bragg! This has to be the lead to her past that we are looking for. I am going to Albany on the next express.”
He looked up, his expression serious. “My men obviously missed this.”
“Yes, they did. Before you chastise me, I know I should have asked for permission to search the house, but you were so occupied when I left here earlier. Is Leigh Anne all right?” she asked impulsively.
He hesitated. “Francesca, do you remember Mike O’Donnell?”
“Of course I do. He was Mary O’Shaunessy’s brother and Kate O’Donnell’s husband—a suspect in their murders. Why?”
“He called on Leigh Anne and the girls this morning.”
Francesca felt a sudden dread. “What did he want?”
“According to Leigh Anne, he was very proper and very polite. However I expect extortion will be his game.”
“He’s an uneducated thug!” Francesca exclaimed, recalling nothing proper or even likable about the man.
“He claims that the death of his wife and sister changed him, that he has found God.”
Francesca did not like the sound of that. “Do you believe it?”
“No. But I will have a better idea of what this is about after I speak with him.”
She plucked his sleeve. “Do you want me to come with you?”
He met her gaze, his expression softening. “That is very kind of you, but I think you are right—you should go to Albany and check Gillespie out. Obviously, Daisy felt strongly about him. However, keep in mind that the connection may not have any relevance to our case.”
She nodded, worried now about what O’Donnell wanted from the Braggs.
“Francesca, I am so sorry about what happened between us earlier today,” he said suddenly. “It was wrong for me to speak as I did. It was out of place and entirely unacceptable.”
She bit her lip. “Rick, I can’t fight with you. I hate it. I still care too much,” she whispered honestly. “And it hurts too much.”
His expression tightened, as if he fought himself. “I am on your side,” he finally said. “And I will always be on your side.”
She nodded, tearing up. “I want to help you if I can. If O’Donnell is intent on some kind of extortion, you must tell me.”
He walked out from behind his desk and reached out. She slipped her hand into his. “You don’t have enough on your plate?” he asked softly.
She was aware of his body’s heat, and she could not help recalling moments they had shared, before Leigh Anne had returned to their marriage, before she had fallen for Hart.
She did not want to think of such intimacy and she moved away from him.
Feeling herself flush, she said, “There is more. Rose was at the house between 6:00 and 7:00 p.m. She and Daisy argued over Daisy refusing to move out. And she still will not name her gentleman caller. I doubt she had a client that night, and that means she may have never left Daisy’s. ”
Bragg nodded. “I think she would have revealed his name, if he did exist. Good work, Francesca.”
She thrilled to his praise, but quickly sobered. “I asked her if she did the deed. She denied it. At the time, I believed her. But, Rick, I will say this again—Rose was angry with Daisy. She had motive, and she seems to have had means.”
“I happen to agree with you,” Bragg said. He hesitated, and his cheeks seemed to flush. “I really do hope that Hart is innocent. I know Hart and I are always at odds, and that your engagement has only fueled the rivalry we share, but in spite of what I said earlier, he is my half brother.”
Relief made her knees buckle. She seized both of his hands. “I am so glad to hear you say that!”
He smiled a little at her. “I was angry when we spoke earlier.”
“I know—and it is my fault for lying to you.” She tried not to think about Alfred now. She wished she had not suggested that he alter his version of the previous evening’s events.
He did not comment on that. “Try to convince Hart to come forward and admit his reasons for being at Daisy’s last night.”
“I will try, but I will wait until his mood improves,” Francesca said. “He is very distressed about the murder.” She paused. “Did Newman speak with Hart’s staff?”
“Yes, he did.” Bragg gave her a strange look. “Alfred claims Hart was at home, exactly as he said he was. I wonder.”
She swallowed, her heart racing. “What do you mean?”
“I think Alfred is a very loyal servant. He has worked for Hart for years. No one else can corroborate his statement. I am not inclined to accept it just yet.”
In a way, Francesca was glad. Still, she quickly moved to the next subject. “There is more.” She told him about David Masters and George Holstein.
“I’ll put Newman on it. Hopefully he can interview both men today—or at least before you return from Albany. I suppose you want to take the news articles with you?”
“I really need to read them carefully. I was going to do so tonight, but I can actually do it on the train.”
“Check with the front desk when you leave. There might be a schedule lying about.”
Francesca nodded. She had no excuse to linger now, but a part of her was reluctant to go. Somehow they had weathered the earlier crisis and she was so grateful. They were almost a team once again.
“I had better get going,” she said. “Especially if I am off to Albany as soon as possible.”
“By the way,” Rick said when she was at the door, “your sister was here a few hours ago, looking for you. Apparently she heard about Daisy. She seemed very worried, Francesca. She asked me to tell you to stop by her home the moment you can.”
Francesca was very close to her older sister.
In that instant, calling on Connie and sharing all of her burdens and woes seemed the perfect way to end a long day of work.
“I’ll stop there on my way home,” she said, wondering if Hart had ever received her note.
They needed to meet that evening, especially as she now planned to leave town for a day or two.
Bragg nodded. When his telephone rang, he answered it, listened closely and said, “Send them to the conference room.” He hung up abruptly. Francesca paused, glancing at him. He appeared grim.
Her heart skipped. “What has happened?”
“You should stay. Daisy’s housemaid and housekeeper have just arrived, and apparently they have something they wish to say.”
Francesca felt a new tension. “What else could they say? Annie already witnessed that argument between Daisy and Calder on Thursday.” But she had a very bad feeling, oh yes.
Bragg stood, crossing the room. “I guess we are going to find out,” he said, opening his door more widely for her.
Francesca felt ill. She somehow knew that whatever the two employees had come to elaborate upon, it was not going to be helpful to Hart’s case. She could only hope that she was wrong.
An officer appeared at the corridor’s far end, walking beside Annie, who was red-eyed from weeping.
She was wringing her hands nervously together.
Francesca had met the housekeeper, Mrs. Greene, on a prior occasion.
Now, she was very pale and appeared tense.
Both women were ushered into the conference room, where Bragg greeted them.
“Thank you for coming to headquarters,” he said.
“Newman is in the field, but Miss Cahill and I will try to be of help.”
Annie sat down at the long table, her mouth trembling. Mrs. Greene said, “We made a promise to Miss Jones, sir. All of us who worked for her, we made her the same promise, not to ever talk about the goings-on in that house.” A tear slipped down her face.
“I understand,” Rick said, glancing at Francesca.
She took her cue, stepping forward, trying to appear professional and not dismayed.
“But Daisy is dead, and while we all should respect her wishes and her need for privacy, her killer must be brought to justice. If you need to break that promise in order to help us find her killer, that is what you must do.” She smiled reassuringly at both women.
“We know that,” Mrs. Greene said frankly.
“I mean, we have spent most of the day thinking about how kind Miss Jones was, how fortunate we were to be in her employ, how she never treated us as anything less than thinking, feeling people. Never mind her unsavory reputation, she was a fine woman and a real lady.”
Francesca found it interesting that her staff had thought so highly of her and that they now grieved so genuinely for her. “Do either of you know who called on her last night, other than Rose?”
Mrs. Greene and Annie shared a look. The housekeeper said, “We already told the police everything we know about last night, Miss Cahill. No, this is about the argument she had with Mr. Hart on Thursday.”
Filled with dread and despair, Francesca knew she did not want to hear this.
As if reading her mind, Bragg laid his hand on her shoulder. “Go on.”
Annie looked worriedly at Mrs. Greene, then turned imploringly toward Francesca and Bragg. “I wasn’t honest when I said that I couldn’t hear what they were saying. I could. They were shouting, carrying on so loudly, I heard every word,” she blurted and tears welled in her eyes.
Francesca was so afraid now that she could not speak.
Bragg said, “It’s all right. We understand that you had made a promise to Miss Jones. But your decision to come forward today and tell the complete truth is entirely appropriate, Annie. It is the right thing to do.”
“I know,” she whispered, looking with absolute worry at Francesca.
“I was there, too,” Mrs. Greene suddenly said harshly. “Not the entire time. Annie was the one who eavesdropped from the first, but I was bringing refreshments and I heard them, just before Mr. Hart stormed out.”
“Why were they arguing?” Bragg asked. “Why was Daisy in tears? And why was Hart so angry?”
Annie stood up, her hands moving nervously. Her whisper was so low that Francesca had to lean toward her to hear her words. She said, “Miss Jones was with child.”
Francesca heard her own sharp intake of breath.
“Miss Jones was with child? Hart’s child?” Bragg demanded, stunned.
Annie nodded, not looking at Francesca now. “Yes. She told him and he seemed not to believe it, not at first. But she would not back down. She told him to speak with her physician. And that was when he became silent and she began crying.”
Francesca realized she was gripping the back of a chair. Daisy had been carrying Hart’s child.
“Then what happened?” Bragg asked tersely.
Annie wiped her eyes. “She started saying she knew he would take care of her and the baby, no matter what, even if he married Miss Cahill. And he started shouting at her, telling her she had done this on purpose. I really can’t remember everything, but it was awful, sir, just awful, the way she wept and the things he said to her. ”
Francesca sat down, her face in her hands, incapable of any rationalization now. There was only raw feeling, disbelief and shock and a deep, deep sickness.
“He was cruel,” Mrs. Greene said abruptly. “I remember his exact words, as they were too horrible to ever forget.”
Francesca closed her eyes tightly, reeling. Vaguely, she felt Bragg’s clasp on her shoulder. “What did he say, exactly?” Bragg asked.
Mrs. Greene hesitated. “I don’t want your goddamned child.”