Deadly Illusions Read Free

then there was Gwen O’Neil. Francesca intended to interview her, too. She wasn’t thrilled that Gwen and her daughter, Bridget, lived right next door to the last victim, just as she wished Maggie did not reside so close by with her children, either. However, the neighborhood was filled with impoverished young women.
    As she paused before Maggie’s flat, she thought about the distance now separating her and Bragg. Perhaps she had been a fool to think that he could reconcile with his wife and she could marry another man and somehow they would remain friends. She could not help but be saddened. On the other hand, it was clear to her that he loved his wife, and she was certainly infatuated with Hart. In fact, he had gone to Chicago on business almost two weeks ago and it had been very hard not to think about him constantly.
    At least Leigh Anne would be leaving the hospital and going home tomorrow. She wondered if she dared to call on her at home. Then she heard childish shrieks and laughter. Francesca began to smile as she knocked upon the door. Maggie was a widow and was raising four children by herself.
    Eleven-year-old Joel Kennedy, once a pickpocket and now Francesca’s invaluable sidekick, promptly answered her knock. He had pitch-black hair and fair skin and his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. He knew the city like the back of his hand and had helped her out of danger too many times to count. His face was flushed and he looked extremely annoyed. When he saw Francesca, though, he brightened. “Miz Cahill!”
    She glanced past him into the one-bedroom flat, which wasusually tidy. Now, goose feathers floated about the family room. Joel’s two young brothers, Matt and Paddy, had clearly been in a pillow fight. The boys were on the floor, holding the mostly empty pillows, howling with laughter. They had clearly eaten, as she saw plates with bread crumbs on the kitchen table. Joel followed her gaze and scowled. “Idi’ts,” he said. “Mum will be fierce unhappy when she sees them down feathers all wasted like that.”
    â€œI see there has been no homework today?” Francesca asked. She knew that Maggie had Matt in school, unlike many other working-class families. Too many of the city’s impoverished classes needed the extra income their children could generate. There was also a question of extreme overcrowding and under-funding for the city’s public schools. It was a shame.
    Joel, who could read and no longer attended school, shrugged. “He got some letters to do. But he don’t want to do homework now. I didn’t want to fight about it. Got better things to do.”
    Francesca closed the door behind her as Joel’s little three-year-old sister came stumbling out of the bedroom, clearly having been napping. “Joel, if they have eaten, Matt should sit down and do his letters. You know how to read—don’t you want your brother to have the same skills and advantages as you? Hello, Lizzie!” She tousled the sleepy child’s silky black hair.
    Joel scowled at her. “Are you here on business, Miz Cahill? It’s been awful quiet for way too long.”
    Francesca set her purse down on the sofa. “Yes, I am. And I agree with you—it has been a quiet spell for us. Shouldn’t your mother be home at any moment?”
    â€œShe should be home real soon. So what case are we on?” he asked with an impish grin. His dark eyes sparkled.
    She patted his shoulder. “We are of a similar nature, you and I,” she said fondly. Then, her smile fading, she said, “A woman was murdered two doors down, Joel. She was Gwen O’Neil’s neighbor.”
    He paled. “Miz O’Neil an’ Bridget?”
    â€œThey’re fine,” she assured him. “Can you start asking questions in the neighborhood? Did anyone notice a suspicious sort lurking about Margaret Cooper or her apartment or building? Was she