Deadly Vows by Brenda Joyce Page A

recover it, once and for all.”
    She hugged herself. Hopefully they would recover the portrait within the hour, but that would still leave the thief at large. Why hadn’t she gotten more involved? Of course, when the portrait had vanished on April 27 from Sarah’sstudio, she had still been trying to find the deadly Slasher before he murdered another innocent woman. Then Daisy Jones had been murdered. When Hart had immediately become the prime suspect, her focus had been doing everything possible to clear him. Fortunately, it had taken only four days to solve that case. Marion Gillespie had confessed to the murder of her own daughter on June 6.
    â€œWhat’s wrong?” Bragg asked softly.
    â€œI was just thinking that I wish I had been more involved. But hindsight is useless.”
    â€œIt is very useless,” he agreed. “I understand why Hart chose to thoroughly comb through the city’s art world. I expected him to turn up something. But I never expected this, and I am as much to blame as anyone for today’s events.” He reached for the phone. “Has anyone told your parents that you are safe and sound?”
    â€œYou are not to blame!” When he did not respond to that, she knew he did not agree. “Rick,” she began.
    â€œDo Julia and Andrew know that you are all right?” he repeated.
    â€œAlfred sent word.” She prayed that he would not ask her if she had seen Hart.
    He stared, then said, “Still, I feel obligated to call Andrew.”
    She nodded. “That is fine. I think they would like to be reassured by you, but I cannot face my mother right now.”
    He gave her an odd look. “Operator, please connect me to Andrew Cahill’s home.” He laid his hand over the mouthpiece. “Do you wish to speak to your father?”
    â€œNot quite yet. Can you tell them I am fine, that there was some trouble, and I have fallen asleep in your guest room?” she tried.
    â€œFrancesca,” he objected.
    â€œI am going downtown with you. I have hours to comeup with a plausible reason for having missed my own wedding,” she said rather defensively.
    He sighed. “Hello, Andrew. I have very good news. I am with Francesca, who has suffered a very trying day.… I am afraid she was lured away from your house deliberately, but she is now fine.… Yes, someone wished to interfere with the wedding.… She has fallen asleep on my sofa.… Yes…I will personally get her home in the next few hours. Good night.” He hung up, looking at her.
    â€œI have made you a partner in crime. I am sorry.”
    â€œThink nothing of it.” Then he softened. “It is hardly the first time, is it? I do not mind telling a white lie for you—and sometimes I enjoy being a partner in crime with you.”
    She bit her lip, almost thrilling. “It is partly the truth.”
    He said bluntly, “Have you seen Calder yet?”
    She flushed, filled with tension instantly. “Yes. Are you ready to go downtown?”
    His gaze was as piercing as a hawk’s. She waited, refusing to discuss Hart now. He finally nodded at the door. She started out of the study and he followed, calling for Joel. She said, “Who do you think would want me to miss my wed ding?”
    Joel came downstairs, apparently having been visiting with the two girls. As they left the house, Joel leading the way, Bragg said, “Hart has enemies, Francesca—hundreds of them, in fact. We agreed two months ago that trying to investigate a list of his enemies was impossible.”
    â€œSo this thief might want to strike at Calder, not me.” They approached the driveway behind the carriage house where Bragg’s Daimler was parked.
    â€œIt would hardly surprise me.” Anger laced his tone. Giving her a dark look, he went to the motorcar and began cranking the engine.
    She tensed, watching him. “You can’t blame Hart for what