Free Brenda Joyce - [Francesca Cahil 02] by Deadly Pleasure Page A

I said you should become a crime-solver, I was in jest, Francesca. What about your studies?” Clearly she was alarmed. Her sky-blue eyes were hugely wide.
    Francesca blinked and retrieved her card, tucking it safely away. “My studies shall not suffer, I may assure you of that.”
    “What do you mean, you have your first case? And what is it?” Connie demanded nervously. Then, “Mama will kill us both when she learns of this!”
    “Mama is not going to learn of this,” Francesca said, her tone becoming even lower. It also contained a warning.
    Connie gave her a disbelieving look. “No one can keep a secret from Mama for very long. She knows everything of import that pertains to anybody she deems a significant part of her life.”
    That was more than true. Julia was, beyond a doubt, one of the shrewdest and most powerful women in the city. She knew all of the city’s leaders, both gentlemen and ladies. She more than knew the city’s elite; she was an active force behind almost any important social, political, or charitable scene or encounter. When she wished to, she could move mountains. Better yet, when she wished it, the mountain
always
came to her.
    “I do not like this,” Connie said.
    “I am sorry. But don’t worry. Perhaps I shouldn’t have told you. So. What are you doing here—and on a Saturday morning?” Francesca suddenly realized just how odd this visit was. “Isn’t Neil at home?” Her heart lurched as she spoke. It was far too early for Neil to be out philandering, wasn’t it?
    Francesca remained in disbelief every time she thought about her brother-in-law and his affair. God, he had been, up until her awful discovery, the noblest gentleman she had ever met. In fact, Francesca had thought him to be perfect in every way, including as a husband.
    Connie had looked away. “Yes. Neil is at home.” Her voice was so soft it was almost inaudible.
    Francesca saw the troubled look upon her sister’s face and hated herself for not blurting out what she knew. And there was no possibility of Francesca having made a mistake; she had actually caught Neil in the act. Of course, Francesca was aware that his lover was about to depart for Europe for the rest of the year. And that would be the end of the affair, Francesca thought. So perhaps this would all simply disappear.
    But she did not think so. A few days ago Connie had quite bitten her head off for prying into her personal life. She had been so explicit, demanding that Francesca mind her own affairs. Never had Connie been so angry.
    Connie had never before spoken to Fran in such a way.
    Francesca was not certain whether Connie knew, but clearly she sensed that something was amiss. Francesca smiled a little now. “So, you have come to share a late breakfast with me?” Connie was a dedicated wife and mother, and her not being at home on a Saturday morning with her infant daughter, three-year-old Charlotte, and Neil was a sure sign of the distress brewing in her life.
    Connie returned her smile. “I thought it would be fun to go shopping. Besides, Neil is going out to lunch and Charlotte has a birthday party to attend.”
    Francesca merely stared. The sister she knew would take both of her daughters to the party and hobnob with the other mothers there—all of whom were young, newly married high-society wives.
    “I have come to fetch you so we can spend all of our money, have lunch at Sherry’s or the Plaza Hotel, and have the most wonderful time!” Connie cried, but the smile on her face did not reach her eyes.
    Francesca looked at her. Connie knew she hated shopping, but her face was so earnest now, and her eyes were so clearly unhappy, filled with dismay, and perhaps also with fear. Francesca took her hand. “Oh, Con. I can’t. I’m so sorry.”
    “Whyever not?” Connie cried.
    She hesitated. “My case. I must interview several people.” Paul Randall’s widow was first on her list; second was Calder Hart. She would also enlist Joel to go