Deadly Kisses by Brenda Joyce Read Free Book Online Page A

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?”
    â€œHow 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?”
    â€œNo,” Hart said, and that was the truth.
    Rick saw it, too, because he nodded. “Is there anything else you wish to add?”
    â€œNo.”
    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.”
    â€œI can’t dissuade her when she has set her mind to something.”
    â€œYou can’t, or you won’t?”
    Rick gave him an enigmatic look and he walked out.
    Hart lost it. He kicked the door so hard that it hurt.

CHAPTER THREE
    Tuesday, June 3, 1902—3:00 a.m.
    F RANCESCA WAITED IN H ART’S carriage, a large, elegant six-in-hand, while Hart and Bragg spoke. Although the station had been unusually quiet, she wanted to be alone with her thoughts.
    The ward was almost deserted. Although numerous prostitutes worked the brownstones just across from headquarters, Francesca saw only one madam, outrageously dressed in a peignoir with a pink feather boa, smoking a cigar and sitting on the stoop of her building. A pair of officers was returning from a foot patrol in their blue serge uniforms and leather helmets, billy clubs in hand and wearing their new police-issue Colt revolvers. A horse and rider was approaching, and some raucous conversation was coming from a nearby flat. Otherwise, like the station house, the night was oddly quiet.
    Why had Hart sent her out? What did he wish to discuss with Bragg alone? Francesca could not help but be worried. A part of it was simple—leaving both men alone together was like sending them an invitation to do battle.
    Their rivalry was ancient, going back to when they were small boys. They shared the same mother, Lily, who had tragically died. Rick had been eleven years old at the time and he had been claimed by his father, Rathe Bragg. Hart had been unwanted, so Rathe had taken him in, too. Francesca knew Hart so well now and she understood. His mother had never had time for him, firstfighting to provide for her children and later, fighting to stay alive, a battle she had lost. Somehow Hart had felt