Deadly Kisses Read Free Page B

sensuous grace that could only be inherent, never achieved. Now her small bosom was a mass of bloody, gaping flesh. Francesca would never become accustomed to death, and especially not violent death.
    She stood, shaking, and decided against turning on more lights. The murder had been a brutal one. Rose did not need to be confronted with the extent of Daisy’s wounds. Francesca took a soft cashmere throw from the sofa, feeling ill, very much so. She inhaled raggedly for control.
    â€œI will find out who did this,” she whispered, aching for Rose now.
    Rose looked up accusingly. “Don’t pretend that you care! We both know you hated her because Hart took care of her. I know you hated her for ever having been in Hart’s bed!”
    Francesca, still holding the throw, shook her head. She felt a tear tracking down her cheek. “You’re wrong. I do care. I care very much. Daisy did not deserve this. No one deserves this!” She approached and laid a hand on the brunette’s shoulder. “Please. Leave her now. Come, Rose, please.”
    Rose shook her head, choking, hugging Daisy more tightly. She was as dark, voluptuous and tall as Daisy was fair, slender and petite. Now she was covered with her friend’s blood.
    â€œI need to go to the police,” Francesca said, thinking of Rick Bragg.
    Francesca needed him now. They made an excellent team—they had solved a half a dozen dangerous and difficult cases together, and he remained her good friend. It was late, but he had to be summoned immediately. Together they would find Daisy’s killer.
    Hart’s dark, smoldering image came to mind. He might not have ever loved Daisy, but how would he react to the news of her murder? Francesca realized she would be the one to tell him of the death of his former mistress, and un fortunately, she would have to do so the moment he returned home.
    â€œThe police?” Rose’s voice was scathing and bitter. “ We need to find Daisy’s murderer! I am hiring you, to find the killer, Francesca. Forget those leatherheads! They won’t give a damn about Daisy,” she said, and she began to weep all over again.
    Francesca nodded, but her instincts warned her not to take on Rose as a client. She took the opportunity to kneel and cover Daisy’s brutally disfigured body with the throw, then somehow she pulled Rose to her feet, putting her arm around her. “Please, come sit down in the salon,” she said, wanting very much to get Rose out of the room.
    But Rose balked. “No. I am not leaving her alone like this!”
    Francesca quickly knelt and pulled the throw over Daisy’s face. “I do need to get the police. There has been a murder, andthey must be notified. But I don’t want to leave you here alone, Rose.”
    Rose sat abruptly on the sofa, her face collapsing into tears again. “Who would do this? And why? Oh, God why?”
    Francesca sat besides her, her mind beginning to function fully again. She had received Rose’s note a good half an hour ago, a few moments before midnight. Betty had said the note had been dropped off at the house just a few minutes before they arrived home. The trip uptown from Daisy’s house was thirty minutes in light traffic, so Rose had sent the note around eleven-thirty. “Rose? Can you answer a few questions?”
    Rose looked up. “Are you going to find her killer? The police won’t care. I don’t trust those flies.”
    Francesca hesitated, recalling Daisy’s hostility the last time they had spoken, and Rose’s own hatred of Hart for taking Daisy away from her. But how could she refuse Rose, who had loved Daisy so? “Yes. Yes, Rose, I will take the case.”
    â€œYou will take the case, even though you hated her?”
    â€œI didn’t hate her, Rose. I was afraid of her.”
    Rose jerked, meeting Francesca’s gaze. Slowly, she said, “All right. What do you