Deadly Illusions. Brenda Joyce

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СКАЧАТЬ 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 afraid? Did she know she was in danger? Who were her friends? Did she have any visitors recently? We suspect the killer to be a man. And it might be the Slasher,” she added.

      His eyes were wide and he nodded eagerly. “I can get started the minute Mum comes home,” he said.

      “Get started on what?” Maggie Kennedy asked, letting herself into the flat. A paper sack filled with groceries was in her arms. “Francesca!” She smiled brightly. “How nice to see you!”

      “We got another case,” Joel told his mother in a rush as she gave him a hug. “Been a murder, right on this block!” Maggie paled.

      “Joel, please, let me explain,” Francesca said.

      Maggie moved to hug the rest of her children in turn, but Francesca could see her distress. “What is this mess?” she asked the two younger boys. “You know I can’t afford more down! Now start picking up the feathers, every single one. Shame on you both,” she added, a tremor in her tone.

      Francesca knew that Joel had worried her. She laid her palm on Maggie’s back as the other woman straightened and smiled reassuringly at her. “Shall we sit?”

      “Of course, where are my manners!” Maggie cried, flushing. She rushed to the small dining table not far from the stove and sink and pulled out one chair. “Let me boil some water for tea.”

      Francesca went to her and took her arm. “Please, Maggie, do not stand on ceremony. I really wish to discuss the case with you.” She gave her a significant look.

      Maggie met her gaze and slowly nodded. As they sat down, Joel slammed out of the apartment. Maggie started, clearly un- happy. “It’s a miracle, really, for you to be giving him a salary, but…I worry so!”

      Francesca had quickly realized just how invaluable Joel was, so she had offered him employment as her assistant. He, of course, had been thrilled. “You know I would never knowingly put him in the path of danger,” Francesca said, meaning it.

      “I know. You have saved my life—and you have really saved Joel’s life, by taking him away from a world of thievery.” Briefly, she cupped her face in her hands, her eyes closed. Then she sighed. “I am glad that Joel works for you, truly I am…”

      Francesca knew that Maggie was very tired from the long hours she put in sewing at the Moe Levy Factory. She touched her hand. “If you do not want him to work for me any longer, I will change it.”

      Maggie shook her head. “He adores you. And he no longer is out on the streets, stealing purses behind my back. I’m just distraught today.”

      Francesca could sense that and she wondered why. “Gwen O’Neil found her neighbor’s body,” she said after a pause.

      Maggie made a choking sound. “Is she all right?”

      Francesca took her hand. “I don’t know. Bragg said she was upset. I imagine she will be home shortly, but she was at police headquarters this afternoon. We suspect it is the Slasher at work again, Maggie. But unlike the others, Margaret Cooper did not survive his latest attack.”

      Maggie made a sound. “I knew them all! They live—lived—nearby.”

      Francesca leaned forward eagerly. “So you are acquainted with all of the victims?”

      “In one way or another,” Maggie cried. “Francis and I seem to shop for our groceries at the same time—she is so kind and so sweet—I often bump into her at Schmidt’s Grocery Store. She was so happy,” she added in a whisper. “She recently told me she was seeing someone she thought very special.”

      Francesca sat up straight. “Isn’t she the one whose husband disappeared some time ago?” If so, then she was still wed.

      “I know she was once married. I had thought she was a widow, actually,” Maggie said with some surprise.

      Bragg had reviewed the file with her, and Francis O’Leary was no widow. “Do you know the name of the man she is seeing?” Francesca asked.

      “No. She didn’t say. But she lives two blocks from here.”

      “Yes, on Twelfth Street.” Francesca decided she must interview Francis O’Leary immediately on the morrow. “Where does she work?”

      “She is a shopgirl at the Lord and Taylor store,” Maggie said. “But when I saw her at church yesterday, she looked terrible.. I think she wore a bandage under the collar of her gown and she had a black eye. Perhaps she is not back at work yet.”

      Francesca absorbed all of that. If she called early enough, Francis O’Leary would be at home. “And you also knew Kate Sullivan and Margaret Cooper?”

      “I don’t really know Kate, but we nod to one another at church on Sundays. She seems very sweet, but a bit shy. You know I’m friends with Gwen, and I met Margaret at her flat one evening when I had to borrow some sugar. She was so nice as well!” Maggie cried.

      A circle of friends, Francesca thought grimly, then revised her assessment of the situation. It was a circle of acquaintances, all hardworking women who lived very close to one another and would bump into one another in the course of the day or the week. “I want you to be careful,” she finally said.

      Maggie stared, pale, and then glanced anxiously at her children. “Margaret Cooper lived two doors down, Francesca, and Kate Sullivan lives right around the corner. Not even a block away.” She inhaled harshly. “Am I in danger?”

      “None of the three victims had children,” Francesca said truthfully, although she felt that Maggie could very well be in danger. “Just keep your wits about you,” Francesca advised. “And I feel certain the children are not in danger. I believe the odds are that you are not, either. Still, we will exercise caution. Next Monday, I want you and the children to stay with me.”

      Maggie started. “You mean in the mansion?”

      Francesca nodded. This would not be the first time she had put up Maggie and her children in her father’s Fifth Avenue home. “The Slasher seems to be striking on Mondays, Maggie. It is just a silly precaution.” She smiled but it felt grim instead of reassuring.

      Maggie hesitated, clearly torn. “I don’t want to impose,” she finally said.

      Francesca took her hand. “We are friends! It is not an imposition.”

      “I’ll think about it,” Maggie returned slowly. “Maybe the Slasher will be caught by then.”

      “I do hope so!” Francesca cried fervently.

      Maggie smiled a little, perhaps at Francesca’s passionate outburst. Carefully she gazed at the table. Not looking up, she asked softly, “Has Evan returned home?”

      Francesca did not answer at first. She sat back in her chair, recalling how solicitous her brother had been toward Maggie and her children when she had been living briefly with them—and ever since. Not for the first time, she wondered if she had witnessed a romantic spark between them. But it was an impossible match—a seamstress from the Lower East СКАЧАТЬ