Chapter 18 #3
Andrew stepped back. “The act was a truly selfless one,” he admitted.
Francesca bit her lip. “I am glad you can finally say something positive about Hart.”
“You still want to marry him, don’t you?”
Francesca didn’t hesitate. The truth was so obvious.
She could claim she was eccentric and liberal, and that she had no use for traditional arrangements, but deep in her heart, she wanted to be his wife.
She wanted that commitment the way she had never wanted anything else.
But she was prepared to go forward with him without any formal agreement if she had to. “Yes.”
“Will he be proved innocent?” Andrew asked.
Francesca nodded.
He touched her cheek. “When this is over, I will sit down with Hart and have a long talk with him.”
“What does that mean?” Francesca asked.
“It means I will try to lay my prejudices aside and genuinely comprehend the man. I will give him a chance, Francesca, to prove to me that he is worthy of being your husband.”
Francesca flung her arms around him. “Papa! I love you so much! I have hated being at odds with you this way.”
“Francesca, will you please move back home?”
In that moment Francesca realized just how much the living arrangement with her sister suited her.
She had much more independence and the freedom to do as she pleased.
“Papa, I am enjoying my visit with Connie. You know that we have not been spending very much time together, due mostly to my sleuthing, but now we get to see each other several times a day.”
“But you will come home?”
“In a few days,” she said, wondering how she could make her stay at her sister’s permanent.
Andrew smiled. “I am so glad we have worked things out.”
“So am I, Papa,” Francesca said, smiling happily in return. And then she saw Bragg appear in the doorway. He said, “Gillespie’s coming up.”
Francesca seized her father’s hand. “I have to go. We are interviewing a suspect.” She quickly kissed his cheek and ran after Bragg. In the hall, she saw Gillespie step out of the elevator with a uniformed officer. He seemed annoyed and angry.
“What is this about, Commissioner?” he demanded. “I was ordered by your men to come here.”
“We have some questions to ask you,” Bragg said, gesturing to his office. He nodded at the young officer, dismissing him.
“I don’t know what you could possibly wish to ask me,” Gillespie said, marching into the center of Bragg’s office. He did not sit down. “You arrested Calder Hart yesterday.”
“Hart was released on bail. More importantly, we have discovered he was framed. He was falsely arrested, Your Honor,” Francesca said.
“The charges have been dropped,” Bragg added.
Francesca hadn’t known that. She thought about Daisy’s letter. She was not going to show it to Bragg, no matter how guilty she felt for withholding it. Hart had been through enough. “Your Honor, sir, did you know that your daughter received a significant sum of money last month?”
He started. “No, I did not. How would I know that? I told you, I had no idea what had become of Honora until you showed me that sketch.”
Francesca exchanged a glance with Bragg. Softly, she said, “Sir, we have a witness who will testify that you were at Daisy’s home last month.”
He paled.
“And we also have proof that the money she deposited, all twenty thousand dollars, came from the First Federal Bank of Albany,” Bragg said.
“What in God’s name does this have to do with her murder?” Gillespie exclaimed.
“Your Honor!” Francesca was stern. “You have lied to me and you have lied to the police. You knew that your daughter was here in the city, using the name Daisy Jones. Yet you have insisted you knew nothing. Why, sir?”
Gillespie sank into a chair. “Why do you think?” He covered his face with his hands, apparently about to weep. “I am an elected official. My daughter turned herself into a whore. Why do you think I denied ever knowing of her and her new life?”
Francesca went to him, clasping his shoulder. “I am sorry,” she said. “And I understand. When did you first learn that she was in the city?”
“I ran into her by accident, outside of a restaurant. There had been no word, for eight endless years. We hired private investigators, Miss Cahill. They worked for me for two years, but they turned up nothing. We had given up!” he cried.
“But on May 3, I saw her on the street as she was getting out of a handsome coach, looking as elegant as any lady. I knew it was my beautiful daughter the moment I first saw her.”
“And she invited you home?” Francesca asked.
He nodded, wiping at his tears.
“Did you tell your wife and daughter?” Bragg asked.
“No! They know nothing! They knew nothing—not until after she was murdered.”
Francesca knew that was a lie, for he could not look at them now.
Had he returned to Albany and announced his discovery of Honora’s whereabouts?
Or had he privately confided in Martha? Perhaps Lydia had somehow overheard what had transpired.
However it had happened Francesca was quite certain that had all three of them had known about Honora’s life as Daisy by the night of her murder. “And the money?”
“I am her father,” he said. “It was a gift. I was hoping she would change her life. We wanted her to come home.”
“We?” Bragg demanded.
“A figure of speech. Martha and Lydia grieved for her for years, Commissioner.”
“I have one more question. When did she tell you what she had become?”
“She didn’t.” He paused. “But she was living alone, unwed, and she would not come home. It was obvious that someone was keeping her.” He covered his face with his hands again.
Francesca took the opportunity to look at Bragg. He shook his head. Clearly, he also smelled a rat.
“Sir?” An officer knocked on the open door. “Rose Cooper is here, and she has asked to speak with you.”
“Bring her up to the conference room.” He turned to Gillespie. “Excuse us.”
“How long will I have to be here?” the judge asked, clearly intent on leaving.
“Just a few more minutes,” Bragg assured him.
Francesca followed him out. The moment his office door was closed, she tugged on his sleeve. “Rose must have some information she wishes to share,” she said in excitement. Perhaps this would be the break they needed.
“I doubt it is a confession of murder,” Bragg said mildly.
Rose appeared at the far end of the corridor. Although immaculately dressed, she was haggard with strain. Francesca wasn’t certain if she remained stricken with grief or if some other event had occurred to distress her. “Rose? Are you all right?”
Rose paused before them, shaking her head. “I doubt I will ever be all right again.”
“Let’s go inside,” Francesca suggested. She guided Rose into the conference room, Bragg following. She hesitated and then decided not to waste time. “We know about your relationship with Chief Farr.”
Rose turned white. “You must tell him I never said a word!”
“It’s all right. He knows that. Joel was following him and he saw you together.”
Alarm immediately showed on Rose’s face. “Are you sure he doesn’t think I told you the truth?”
“Has he threatened you?”
“Of course not! But he is chief of police. He can make my life miserable!” She glanced at Bragg with more worry.
“Did Farr promise you protection in exchange for your services?” he asked.
Rose shook her head. “No. I…I like him. We’re…lovers. That’s all—and that’s no crime.”
Francesca had never despised Farr more. She had not a doubt he had availed himself of Rose’s services simply by threatening to arrest her if she refused him. “Were you with Farr the night Daisy was murdered?”
“No,” she whispered. “I lied. I never had a customer. I’m not stupid—I know how it looked. I knew you’d think about all the fights I’d had with Daisy after she took up with Hart. And I really thought he did it…but now I am not so sure.”
Francesca was eager. “What has changed your mind?”
“Her father,” Rose said, her tone stricken. “I have been thinking about him all night, ever since you told me that you found Daisy’s family. Then I read in the newspaper this morning that he is here to bury her. And I can’t let that happen!” She began to cry.
Francesca put her arm around her. “What is it that you are not telling us? Why don’t you want Daisy’s father to bury her? Rose, what do you know?”
“I promised,” Rose wept. “I swore to Daisy, and I promised I would keep her secret forever. But how can I do that? She’s dead and I think her father did it.”
Francesca trembled. “Rose, whatever you promised Daisy, if keeping this secret is preventing us from finding her killer and bringing him to justice, she would want you to come forward now.”
“I’m not sure she would ever want me to come forward, Francesca. We only spoke of it once, long ago, when we first became friends.”
“Rose, you can be subpoenaed to testify in court. Refusal to do so would merit charges and a jail term,” Bragg said quietly.
She looked at him through glazed eyes, and then at Francesca. “Daisy hated him. She hated him with a passion. She wished him dead, Francesca! He was the reason she ran away from home.”
Francesca nodded. “Why? Why would she hate her own father so much? Did he betray her mother—did she catch him with another woman? Was he cruel, or punish her with force?”
“Did she catch him with another woman?” Rose laughed bitterly, hysterically. “She was the other woman, Francesca.”
For a long moment, Francesca did not understand.
Bragg said, “Are you saying what I think you are?”
She nodded. “She was only a child. She was twelve years old when it started—that is what she said. Gillespie was sharing her bed.”