Deadly - Deadly Illusions Part 14

1:00 p.m.

They leaped from Hart's coach and ran up the front steps to his home. They did not knock, but barged in, much to Alfred's shock. "Where is Mrs. Kennedy?" Francesca cried, standing behind Hart and Bragg, Joel at her side.

Blinking, he said, "She is in the gardens, Miss Cahill, with Father Culhane and-"

Francesca cried out, following both men as they ran through the house and out the back doors. The moment they reached the terrace, she saw Maggie crumpled in the gra.s.s.

Seized with fear, Francesca looked again and saw two men struggling on the lawn. With shock, she realized her brother was in the midst of a deadly struggle with Father Culhane.

Dear G.o.d, she had been right!

Joel took off, racing to his mother and dropping down beside her.

Francesca ran to them, praying desperately that Maggie was all right. She dropped to her knees. Joel was weeping. Instantly she noted that Maggie was as white as a corpse. She then saw a thin red line on her throat-it was a scratch, nothing more. Francesca reached for her wrist to take her pulse as Joel cradled her face, tears falling down his cheeks.

Francesca found her pulse. It was strong and steady and relief overwhelmed her then. Just as she was about to tell Joel that his mother was fine, Maggie's eyes opened.

"Shh," Francesca said. "Don't sit up quickly."

But Maggie cried out, struggling to rise, her gaze on the deathly fight behind her. Francesca turned to see Evan landing a solid blow to Culhane's face. The priest's nose was shattered already, blood pouring from it, and now he staggered backward, cras.h.i.+ng into the gazebo.

Bragg leaped between the two men, grabbing Culhane and shoving him face first to the ground. He straddled him, cuffing him almost simultaneously. "You are under arrest," he said flatly.

Hart had put his arm around Evan, as if to hold him up. "Are you all right?" he asked.

Evan did not answer. He shoved free, rus.h.i.+ng over to where Francesca sat with Maggie and Joel. He knelt, almost pus.h.i.+ng Francesca aside in his haste. "Are you hurt?" he cried. Blood

trickled from his mouth, where his lower lip was split He gripped Maggie's shoulders. "Are you hurt?" he repeated anxiously.

"I'm fine," Maggie whispered, tears clouding her eyes. "But you're not...you're hurt." She touched his mouth.

Francesca knew when she was an intruder and she slowly got to her feet, taking Joel's hand. There was no doubt now in her mind as to which way this wind was blowing. Then she gave in to her curiosity. She looked once more and saw Evan pull Maggie against his chest.

He held her hard, his eyes closed, his expression one of anguish. For one moment, she could only stare. Joel was also staring-but with a smile.

Hart pulled Francesca to him and took her hand. They exchanged a long glance and then he said, "Will you ever heed my advice?"

She began to breathe more normally now. They had their killer and the case was almost closed. She smiled at him. "Your advice, yes. Your orders? I don't think so."

He sighed, appearing equally annoyed and relieved, no easy task, indeed. Then he slid his arm around her. "This solves it, then," he said. "We are marrying immediately, because I am not letting you run around this city by yourself, chasing killers like Culhane. When I look in the mirror tonight, I will undoubtedly be gray."

Francesca tried not to appear pleased. Keeping a straight face, she said, "There are only a few new white hairs at the temples, Calder, and it is really most attractive."

Hart shook his head.

He was so afraid.

Harry de Warenne paused in the dark, unlit corridor outside Gwen's door, acutely aware of his feelings and worse, his own vulnerability. But then, he had followed his lover across an entire ocean, unable to forget her. From the moment he had realized that he could not let Gwen go, he had begun to live in real, raw fear. He hesitated, filled with dread.

For he understood the complications and he knew the odds.

Justice did not walk hand in hand with fate.

And that terrified him.

He did not have to knock. The door swung open and Gwen stood there, her hair haphazardly pinned up, her eyes wide, her skin impossibly pale. "Harry?" she whispered.

He inhaled hard and tried to smile and knew he failed. "I hope I am not calling at an inopportune time," he said.

"Of course not." She was the one who managed a frail smile. "Come in, please."

He walked inside, his heart beating hard, wondering how to say what he had crossed an entire ocean to say, afraid of her response. He turned. "Come home with me." And he winced. That was not what he had come to say, or at least, not that way.

"Wh-what?" she gasped.

He briefly closed his eyes. Then he opened them and found himself staring into Gwen's, vaguely aware of Bridget having come to stand behind her mother. "When Miranda and the boys died, I knew my life was over." He could not form a smile. "But I was wrong, because as much as I longed to die with them, I didn't. I continued to breathe, I continued to wake up day after day after day. I continued to eat, to sleep. But my world had changed. It was dark and gray."

She reached for his hand, tears in her eyes. "I know. I know how much you love her, how much you miss them."

"No, you don't know," he cried. "One day, years later, I walked into my study at Adare and you were there, the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. My heart, which had stopped beating the day I lost my family, began to beat again. I was so afraid, Gwen, I was so afraid of you," he said desperately, gripping her hands tightly now, afraid she would pull away.

She stared in shock. "You were afraid of me?"

He somehow nodded. His heart drummed. "I was afraid of betraying my wife, my children, with the feelings that began to grow inside me that very day. I was afraid of loving someone

again as much as I had loved Miranda-I was afraid of losing that love again one day. I can't manage to lose that love another time, Gwen," he said hoa.r.s.ely. And he wondered if she understood.

"What are you saying?" she cried, tugging her hand free of his.

"I have come to America to ask you to be my wife," he said simply.

She stared, her eyes as huge as saucers.

And he was sweating now. "I have done something rather unconscionable. I have bribed your husband into signing a statement claiming he is your close cousin, releasing you from your marriage. A part of that bribe required that he go to California, which he has done." He nervously awaited her reaction; he could not seem to breathe.

But she was too stunned to speak.

"I have friends in high places," he said urgently. "I can have your marriage annulled."

She wet her lips. A tear fell. "Did you...did I...did I just hear you say you came here to ask me to be your wife?" she asked numbly.

"Yes," he said solemnly, but his heart wasn't solemn at all. He felt as if it would pound its way right out of his chest. "I love you, Gwen. I never thought I could love again, but I do. I want to take care of you and Bridget, I want to take you both home, with me, where you belong."

She went into his arms, weeping. "I love you, too, Harry."

Francesca sat in one of the two chairs facing Bragg's desk, impossibly relaxed and reallyquite cheerful. Even though Father Culhane had not confessed, there was no doubt now asto his guilt. They were simply waiting for Heinreich to confirm that the pocketknife he hada.s.saulted Maggie with was indeed the murder weapon. Bragg sat before her, speakingquietly on the telephone. Then he placed the receiver on the hook and smiled at her, lightreaching his eyes. "Have I told you yet what an ingenious sleuth you are?" She smiled in return. "Please do." Then she said sincerely, "We make a fine team, Rick. Ihope that never changes." His expression faded. He toyed with a pen, then looked up. "Hart has been very helpful,hasn't he?" She tensed very slightly. "Yes, he has." "You seem very happy today," he said quietly. "I am very pleased to have caught Culhane. I confess, though, that I suspected FrankPierson from the moment he showed up at his sister's funeral. I was wrong." She met hissteady, searching gaze. "I am happy," she said quietly. "I know that so much has changed,but I am very happy with Calder. I want you to be happy, too." He looked away just as there was a knock on his door, which was ajar. Newman stoodthere, smiling. Bragg gestured him in with his hand. Newman beamed. "Sir! The pocketknife is the same one. Heinreich is certain. There is anunusual and slight indentation on one side of the blade. It is the same indentation we foundon Kate's corpse." "Good." Bragg stood and Francesca also rose. "Shall we get a confession and save thetaxpayer the cost of a lengthy trial?" "Let's," she said, unable now to stop worrying about him in a personal manner. As theywalked down the hall, she said, "Will you confront Farr about his devious behavior during thiscase?" Bragg shook his head. "I am keeping a very close eye on him. Whatever he is up to, I wantto find out. I don't want him to know that I am aware of his treachery, at least not yet." Francesca touched him and they paused outside the conference room. "I am worried. He isa viper in our midst and I am afraid of what he might do in the future to hurt you." He smiled. "He can only hurt me politically, so don't worry, Francesca, although I appreciateyour concern." She had to accept that. Eventually, they would find out what Farr was really after. Theywalked inside.

Culhane sat in manacles in the conference room, under guard. He looked up at them and hewas almost the picture of innocence. But he did not speak. He hadn't said a word sinceBragg had told him he was under arrest. "We have confirmed, Father, that the knife you a.s.saulted Mrs. Kennedy with is the murderweapon used by the Slasher. Any reasonable jury will find you guilty of her attempted murderand I have little doubt that you will be convicted of murder in the first degree as well." He stared coldly at them. "You murdered two fine young ladies," Francesca cried. "Why?" Culhane looked at her and she was chilled by his regard. "Ladies? I don't think so. Each andevery one deserved to die for their faithless behavior. The world is a better place, MissCahill, without them." He never took his brilliant eyes from her. She knew she was safe in the conference room but she had the uncanny feeling that hewished to murder her, as well. And he was not confessing to his crimes. "Why? Why werethey faithless?" "Kate Sullivan was a wh.o.r.e. She deserted her husband, just as Gwen O'Neil did. FrancisO'Leary was no less a wh.o.r.e for carrying on with Wilson. They received their just deserts, Ithink." His eyes blazed. "But what about Margaret Cooper?" Francesca asked, s.h.i.+vering. He looked away. Francesca stared at Bragg. He stepped forward and Culhane cried, "She was the mistake!"He covered his face with his hands and began to cry. Francesca had known it, but she was not jubilant. "You wanted to kill Gwen, didn't you? Butyou attacked the wrong woman." "G.o.d forgive me," he whispered, sobbing. "She did not belong to my flock, I did not knowher. I never meant to hurt her, she was not a blight on my paris.h.!.+" "And Maggie Kennedy?" Bragg asked quietly. "Did she also deserve to die?" He nodded, looking up, his face covered with tears. "She has been whoring for your brother,Miss Cahill." Then he stared at her, his eyes glittering with hatred. "I saw you," he whispered."I saw you yesterday in Calder Hart's library." And his gaze was burning with accusation. She jumped backward, her cheeks heating, understanding his meaning and horrified by it."You spied on us?" she cried. He stood and pointed at her with both shackled hands. "You are next," he cried. "You, themost faithless one of all!" Bragg seized him and thrust him at the police officer, who had his billy stick in hand. "Gethim out of here," he said in disgust. "Yes, sir," the young rookie said. He jerked Culhane from the room, but not before the priestlooked back at Francesca, crying, "Oh yes, weep in fear, because the faithless shall die!" "Shut your trap," the officer said, pus.h.i.+ng him out of the room. "The faithless shall die," Culhane shouted as he was marched down the corridor. Hisfootsteps sounded, his words almost echoed, and then there was only silence in the hall. Francesca was trembling. She looked up as Bragg took her by the shoulders. "Oh dear,"she whispered. "I wonder if I was next." "It doesn't matter," he said fiercely. "Culhane is in custody and he will be going to the electricchair. Thank G.o.d he did not get his chance to go after you." She exhaled, still trembling, feeling quite certain that Culhane had watched her and Hartmaking love. She shuddered at the notion. "It's all right," Bragg said softly. She met his steady regard. Then she touched his cheek. "I know. I simply am horrified tothink of his spying on me..." She trailed off for a moment, not wanting to explain. But he knew, for he released her, turning away. He wandered over to the window behind hisdesk, staring down at Mulberry Street. She followed. "I know I've said this before. How can I help?" He turned, smiling a little. "Your friends.h.i.+p is a help, Francesca."

"Should I call on Leigh Anne again? She is so melancholy, Rick. Maybe a good friend would help her out of this mora.s.s of despair."

"That would be nice," he said, not smiling.

She did not know what to do, for she felt certain she saw pain reflected in his eyes. So she took his hand and squeezed it.

He felt as if he had been sitting in the salon for hours. He was alone, a stiff drink at hand, hissecond or third. He couldn't seem to stop recalling the sight of Maggie in that monster'sarms, his knife at her throat. He was more than shaken-he was sick to his stomach. Andthere was simply no denying it. The salon doors were wide open. He heard footsteps and leaped to his feet, vaguely awareof being utterly disheveled. His jacket had been tossed aside a long time ago, his necktiewas askew, his s.h.i.+rtsleeves rolled up to the elbows. Rourke paused on the threshold of thesalon. His gaze widened. "Have you been working yourself up? She is fine, Evan. That is amere scratch on her throat. I am sure the trauma of the attack was far worse." "Is Dr. Finney with her still?" Evan asked urgently. "He just left," Rourke said, clasping his shoulder while giving him a sidelong look. "He gaveher some laudanum. He has prescribed an evening of rest." "I want to see her," Evan said, not waiting for a reply. He hurried from the salon and thenstood in the hall helplessly, having no idea where to go. Rourke pointed to the left. "Calder gave her the north wing of the house." "Remind me to thank him," Evan said over his shoulder, hurrying down the corridor. Rourke called after him, "The suite is on the second floor!" Evan took the stairs two at a time, breathlessly. That horrific image of Maggie in Culhane'scrazed embrace remained, her face stark with fear. The door to the sitting room of her suitewas open and a fire danced in the hearth. Maggie's bedroom was to the right and instantlyhe saw her, lying in the canopied bed, asleep. Joel sat with her, at her feet; the other children were nowhere to be seen. Evan vaguelyrecalled the housekeeper had taken them to the kitchen for ice cream some time ago. His heart raced. Joel saw him and jumped up. Before Evan could cross the threshold, he had launchedhimself off the bed and into his arms. Evan held him, hard. "It's all right," he said softly, kissing Joel's head. "Your mother is fine.She has had a bad scare, nothing more." For one more moment, Joel clung, and then he stepped back. His eyes were s.h.i.+ning withunshed tears but he was trying to be manly. "You saved her, you did. Thank you, Mr. Cahill,thank you very much." He held out his hand. Evan suddenly realized that Maggie was not asleep at all. She lay very still, but her eyeswere open and fixed on them. He somehow took Joel's hand, his heart beating like a drum.Somehow, he tore his gaze free from hers and looked at the small boy. "You're welcome,"he said. Then he looked back at the woman in the bed. "May I?" he asked as politely as possible.Being formal was no easy task. "Please," she whispered, understanding perfectly well his request to enter the room. He came slowly forward, wis.h.i.+ng he'd brought flowers. There was a linen bandage on herthroat. "Thank G.o.d you are all right!" he heard himself exclaim. She lifted her hand. He took it, holding it tightly, his heart racing now with impossible speed. She wet her lips. "You saved me. Thank you, Evan." He wanted to sit on the bed beside her, but that would be a terrible lapse of manners, so hedid not. He simply clung to her small, slender, callused hand. There was so much he wishedto say. But what could he say? Was he in love?

He was stunned. If so, he was beginning to understand that he had never been in love before-not this way.

And he whispered, "I have never been so afraid, Maggie. I saw you with that killer..." He could not continue then.

Tears filled her eyes. "I was afraid, too. I thought about my children, what they would do without me, but then I knew you would look after them. Wouldn't you?"

And finally he sat down on the bed by her hip, as it was the most natural of acts, still holding her hand. "Yes, of course I would take them in, you know that. But you are fine! You have had a terrible fright, but it is over now, and you are safe."

She suddenly tugged her hand free and he was dismayed. He wanted to hold her hand for hours and hours, he thought, but then she stunned him by cupping his jaw. He went still. "I owe you so much more than I can ever repay," she said unsteadily.

His mind went blank and his heart surged with frightening force. He knew he should not kiss her, he knew it. It was his only coherent thought. And he leaned over her.

Her hand dropped away, her eyes widened.

He closed his own eyes, continuing to see her blue eyes wide with surprise, and he pressed his mouth to hers.

She gasped.

And he claimed her lips, firmly and insistently, again and again, holding her shoulders now, trying to savor her taste so he would never, ever forget it. She kissed him back, at first hesitantly, and then with growing urgency.

They kissed and kissed.

At some point, many moments later, he felt her mouth tire, he felt her body soften, and with surprise, he felt her become still. He ceased, drawing back. And then he realized that the laudanum had taken effect.

Maggie Kennedy was soundly asleep.

He sat there, staring at her, incapable of drawing a normal breath. Time, which had ceased, began to move again. Reality, which had been suspended, returned. And his heart was flooded with anguish.

He got to his feet.

She was so pretty, lying there asleep.

How it hurt, looking at her.

In a few more days he would marry Bartolla.

He prayed Maggie would have no recollection of their kiss.

He was rigid with tension as he entered the front hall of his Madison Square flat, a bouquet of red hothouse roses in his hand. The flowers were for Leigh Anne. He felt certain that they would be rejected-that he would be rejected. Dread accompanied the tension, and with it, heartache.

He quietly closed the front door. He warmed, smiling, as he heard Leigh Anne explaining subtraction to Katie. He gathered that they were in the salon at the end of the short corridor.

He walked swiftly past the dining room and, even as certain as he was that she did not want his flowers or him, even though he continued to feel like an intruder whenever he and his wife were in the same room, he could not help but be eager to glimpse them.

He hoped it would not always be this way, to be so hopeful and so hurt, so eager and so filled with dread.

He paused on the room's threshold. Leigh Anne wore a silvery-gray dress with a pearl and diamond necklace, her hair curled and swept back and up. She sat in her wheeled chair beside Katie, who was on an ottoman, a practice book on her lap. He thought about how much they appeared to be mother and daughter. Then he realized that in the past few months they had become mother and daughter.

"I still don't understand," Katie said in frustration.

Leigh Anne sighed, reaching for her hand. "I will go to school tomorrow and speak with your

teacher, dear." Bragg knew the moment she became aware of his presence. He tried to smile. She turned and looked at him. Her eyes met his and then landed on the bouquet he held,widening. "h.e.l.lo," he said cheerfully, although it was forced. He strode in, kissed her cheek, and thenkissed Katie as well. "Perhaps I can help with that problem," he said to Katie. "I don't like math," she said softly. "And I can't get the right answer!" Katie stood and rushedfrom the room. He faced Leigh Anne, who was staring at him. He realized he was crus.h.i.+ng the stems in thebouquet, and he eased his grip. He forced another smile. "We have the Slasher in custody,"he said. "He was caught in the act, with the murder weapon, and he has confessed." Leigh Anne looked at the flowers again as if she had never before seen roses. Then shetore her glance away, lifting it to his. "Thank G.o.d," she said. He extended the bouquet. "These are for you." She stared at him in obvious dismay. Finally she took the bouquet, looking away, andmurmured, "Thank you." He bent so their faces were level; surprised, she turned her face toward him. Their gazesmet. "I know how hard this is for you," he said quietly. "I know it cannot be easy to have lost theuse of your leg, to be confined to a wheelchair, to be reliant now on the strong arms of yournurse, Peter, and myself to perform activities that were once taken for granted. I know howdistressing this is and how difficult it is for you to accept another kind of life." "No," she said. "You have no idea what this is like." "I do," he said, clasping her shoulder. She flinched. "I see how unhappy you are every time Ilook at you." She turned away. "Don't," he said, taking her chin and making her face him. "I want to help." "You can't help," she said, her eyes s.h.i.+ning. "I don't want you to help!" A tear fell. "Why can'tyou understand that?" "I am helping whether you want me to or not. I am going to be here with you through this darkperiod in your life. It won't always be this way, Leigh Anne," he said, determined to believeit. "Why are you doing this?" she cried. "Why won't you accept the fact that everything haschanged?" "Nothing has changed," he argued, anguished. "You are still my wife, and you are still themost beautiful woman I have ever laid my eyes upon." She stared in surprised dismay. "I am not giving up," he said flatly. And he rose to his full height. She was still holding the bouquet he had given her. She did not look up. "Then you are afool," she said. * * * Francesca took the liberty of pouring two gla.s.ses of scotch, adding a single cube of ice toeach one and carrying them to the low occasional table in front of the sofa in Hart's library. Aservant had stoked a small fire in the hearth and she sat down, taking a sip of her scotch.She smiled to herself. Culhane had confessed and the case was closed. There would be no more tragic murders.Apparently, Lord Randolph was head over heels in love with Gwen, and if she was any judgeof human nature, both Evan and Maggie were following in their footsteps. Her smileincreased. But they were well into a very pleasant spring, so love was in the air, was it not?And she was waiting for her fiance to come home-the city's most attractive, charismaticand dangerously seductive bachelor. He had said he wanted to marry her immediately. Sheintended to hold him to his words, yes she did. How lucky could one woman be? "Feeling pleased with yourself, darling?" Hart asked, stepping into the room.

Francesca stood, smiling. "I must admit, I do rather feel like the cat who had all the cream."

Hart was smiling as he took her into the circle of his arms. "That was a case well solved, darling."

She flushed, aware that she loved receiving his praise. "I had the best help an amateur sleuth could have," she said archly.

His long, lean fingers toyed with the hair at her nape and his hazel eyes held hers, his gaze searching.

Her smile faltered. "What is it? I was referring to you, Calder. You were very helpful on this case."

"I know." He released her and handed her a scotch, taking one gla.s.s for himself.

She sensed the devil in him now. "Please don't brood," she said, meaning it.

"How can I brood when I am with you?" he swiftly returned.

But he was brooding now. "What dark thoughts are afflicting you now?" She put her drink down, taking his hand.

He drank and then set his own gla.s.s aside. "I meant what I said earlier. I want to marry immediately."

She bit her lip so she would not smile, absolutely thrilled. "That is fine with me," she managed to say.