Deadly Kisses by Brenda Joyce Page A

private evening, Miss Cahill.”
    Francesca stared. What was he not telling her? “But this was her pattern of behavior?”
    His color deepened. “When I first came to be employed here, she would dismiss us when Mr. Hart called.”
    Francesca’s insides lurched and tightened. She should have been expecting that, she realized grimly. “And after Mr. Hart and I became engaged?”
    â€œShe entertained Miss Cooper a few times, but other wise, she would go out, which was usual, or stay in alone.”
    Francesca blinked. “Miss Cooper does not live here now?”
    Homer seemed surprised. “No, she does not. But she calls once or twice a week.”
    It did not sound as if Daisy and Rose had resumed their former relationship. Or, if they had, it sounded as if it had lost some of its fervor, Francesca thought. “Who did Miss Jones see last night?’
    â€œI don’t know,” he said apologetically.
    Francesca’s mind raced. Before she and Calder had become engaged, he had called on Daisy and she had dismissed the staff. On a few occasions, she had dismissed the staff in order to seeRose. Calder, of course, had arrived at Grand Central Station at seven o’ clock—she had the ticket stub to prove it—so he could not have been her caller last night, for Daisy had dismissed everyone at half past five. Surely she had been expecting someone by six or seven o’clock. Had she been expecting Rose? “Perhaps she was going out?” Francesca had to rule this possibility out.
    â€œOh, no! She had me prepare a small supper, which she said she would take later. She also asked that I chill champagne and ice two glasses. It was odd, because the supper was for one.”
    Francesca tried to breathe. Daisy had intended to have drinks with her caller, but not dine with her or him. This was another fantastic lead! “You went to your rooms at half past five? And that is when Mrs. Greene went home and Annie went to her room?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œAnd this morning? Was the champagne gone? Had both glasses been used? Had she eaten her supper?”
    He met her gaze. “No one drank anything last night. I had opened the bottle for her, and two glasses had been poured, but neither had been drunk. Her supper was untouched.”
    Francesca tried to fight her excitement. If Homer had been instructed to open the bottle of champagne before retiring for the evening, then Daisy’s caller had been expected shortly after five-thirty. Had Daisy greeted the killer with champagne? If so, she had seemed to intend an intimate rendezvous with her murderer. And if the drinks and her supper had not been touched, had she just narrowed down the time of her murder? “Did she say at what time she was expecting her caller? And did you see or hear anything last night?”
    â€œShe made no mention of when she was expecting her caller.”
    Francesca said, “And you did not see or hear anyone?”
    â€œI went out for a while, Miss Cahill, to take a drink with some friends. When I returned, it was well past eight—it was closeto nine-thirty or ten. The house was dark, which I found it a bit strange, but I saw some lights upstairs and I decided it wasn’t my business. I was tired and I went to bed. Mr. Hart awoke me at midnight.”
    Francesca’s mind raced. “So you did not hear anything when you came in at nine-thirty or ten?”
    â€œNo.”
    Francesca’s thoughts veered. “Hart has admitted that he came to see Daisy last night.”
    â€œIt was very odd, him calling like that,” Homer said.
    â€œWhy? Why was it odd?” Francesca asked quickly.
    â€œWell, he hasn’t called in months.” He blushed. “I am sorry, Miss Cahill, but this is so awkward, with this being his house and you being his fiancée.”
    â€œPlease, Homer, do not fret on my account! When I accepted Hart’s offer of marriage, I was