Brenda Joyce - [Francesca Cahill 04] Read Free Page A

friend in need, Sarah. These are extenuating circumstances.”
    Sarah seemed too distressed and miserable to debate. Francesca smiled and guided her to a couch, where they both sat down. She leaned forward eagerly. She had every intention of solving Sarah’s case and bringing the ruffian who had done this to justice. “Tell me everything about last night, Sarah.”
    “We had an early evening last night, and I was at work—on your portrait, actually—around half past ten. At midnight I felt somewhat satisfied with several different compositions, and I left and went to bed. Actually, it was ten past midnight,” she added. Her face collapsed. “I was so excited to begin your portrait for Mr. Hart. Now, now …” She could not continue.

    Francesca took Sarah’s hand, tensing terribly. Calder Hart was one of the city’s wealthiest and most infamous citizens. He was infamous because he did not follow any of society’s rules of etiquette; in fact, he openly flaunted his absolute disregard for polite society. Because he was so rich, he could get away with it, and he remained on everyone’s party list in spite of his shocking manners and his penchant for speaking as he pleased. He was also notorious for being a ladies’ man and would be the first to admit it.
    But most important, he was also a fervent, if not fanatical, world-famous art collector. Francesca could commit murder herself for his insistence that Sarah paint her portrait. Of course, he would soon lose interest in her portrait, as he had only suggested it to annoy her when he had found her in a rather disheveled and sensual state at the Channing ball.
    But then, that was Hart—he enjoyed shocking society, causing trouble, creating a sensation. And recently, there had been moments when they had been at odds. Francesca sighed. “As soon as the police are finished with the studio, which is now officially a crime scene, we can have it cleaned up and made as good as ever.” She then smiled brightly, encouragingly—not adding that the studio might be offlimits and in an investigative limbo for some time.
    “This is my chance to become an artist of some repute,” Sarah whispered. “To have Mr. Hart commission your portrait was like having God whisper in my ear that I would be famous.”
    Francesca was not surprised that Sarah would be sacrilegious, not since she had come to realize her soul was a bohemian one, even if she did appear conventional.
    “Mr. Hart has asked for delivery as soon as possible—I assured him I would complete the portrait by April the first. And he assured me he would hang it in his front hall! I have heard he hangs his favorite, more irreplaceable pieces there!” Tears flooded her eyes. “How will I ever paint now? How?”
    Francesca had already known that she would have to go through with the portrait, as it was Sarah’s chance to gain real recognition in the art world. “You need a few days to
recover from what has happened, and I am sure Calder will understand if you deliver the painting at another, later date.” Hart’s dark, handsome image came to mind. “In fact, I know he will be very understanding, as there is nothing the man cares more about than his art.” That wasn’t quite true. Hart had once told her that his life was about wealth, art, and women, in that order. She had been shocked, but only briefly—he had grown up terribly poor, and had he not attained his wealth, he would not be the collector that he was … and he would not have the most beautiful women in the world as his lovers. In fact, every time she ran into him socially, he was with a different woman, and they were all married ladies.
    “I don’t know if he will understand. He is a very hard man. He frightens me,” Sarah said. Now she faced Francesca, wide-eyed and fervent. “He is very fond of you. Please tell him what has happened, Francesca. Make him understand there will be a delay.” Several tears slid down her cheeks.
    “Sarah, I know