Deadly Illusions Read Online Free PDF Page A

the time to pursue it. And she did not doubt that Gwen had been a fine ladies’ maid. She was afair judge of character, and trusted Gwen’s sincerity. Then a brilliant idea occurred to her. Calder Hart. She brightened. He wouldn’t care if she hired another maid for that huge mausoleum he called a home. She made a mental note to place Gwen in his domestic employ immediately. “May I ask you some questions, Mrs. O’Neil? I am taking on the case of Margaret’s murder.”
    Gwen nodded, moving to sit down. She let out a sigh of exhaustion as she did so.
    Francesca sat beside her. “Did you know Margaret Cooper?”
    Gwen nodded. “She was already living here when we moved in. She was very pleasant, very friendly, offering to show me and Bridget around. She helped me get my first employment, but the work was so far downtown that I quit when I found the opening at the candle makers. We had supper together once or twice. She was a good person, Miss Cahill. She did not deserve to die!”
    â€œSo she was not married?”
    â€œNo, she was entirely alone in this world,” Gwen said.
    â€œDid she have a gentleman friend?” Francesca asked, thinking about the fact that there had been no sign of a male visitor in her flat.
    â€œNo. In fact, I found it odd, as she was so pretty and kind.”
    Francesca took a notepad and pencil from her purse and made some notes. “Margaret must have had some kind of personal life.”
    â€œShe went to work six days a week and to church every Sunday. You do know,” Gwen added, “that I have already told all of this to the police.”
    â€œI would love to hear your answers for myself, if you do not mind. I care very much about this case and about bringing Margaret’s killer to justice,” Francesca said earnestly. “Thepolice have a great many investigations to handle. I have just one.”
    â€œOf course.” Gwen smiled a little for the first time that evening, apparently beginning to relax. The water began to boil and she got up to make the tea.
    â€œWhat faith was Margaret?”
    â€œShe was Baptist,” Gwen said over her shoulder. Then she smiled again, her eyes softening. “I took her to my church once. She was very religious, Miss Cahill. Her mother was Irish. Did you know that?”
    Francesca sat up straighter. Here was another link, she thought eagerly. Kate Sullivan and Francis O’Leary were Irish—and now, Margaret had turned out to be of Irish descent. “No, I hadn’t known. Where did Margaret work?”
    â€œShe was a shopgirl. She worked in some fancy sweet shop uptown. I don’t recall the store’s name but she referred to the fact that it was next door to A.T. Stewart’s.”
    A.T. Stewart’s was a popular department store. The sweet-shop shouldn’t be that hard to locate. Gwen brought her a cup of tea carefully, as there was no saucer to catch any spills. Francesca smiled her thanks and inhaled. “It does smell delicious,” she said, meaning it. The tea was strong and spicy, exotic, and obviously expensive. It seemed like quite an indulgence for Gwen O’Neil.
    â€œIt is wonderful,” Gwen said almost proudly. “I put a spoon of sugar in it. I hope you do not mind.”
    â€œThank you so much,” Francesca said, knowing that sugar was another expense Gwen could not afford. She took a sip and found the tea as rich to the palate as it was aromatic. She set the cup down. “How did you find the body and when did you find it?”
    Gwen’s smile vanished. “This morning. I was leaving to go to work. I was late because Bridget has a cough and I made her an elixir before I left. I let her stay home from school yester day and today.” She began to cry. “As I went down the hall, I sawthat Margaret’s door was open. That was odd, so I glanced inside…and saw her lying there on her bed, as dead as