Read Brenda Joyce - [Francesca Cahill 06] for Free Online Page B

was oddly proud of Hart as they sat down at the pine table. She smiled her thanks at Kathy for her glassof water, then leaned toward O’Hare, who had sat at the table’s head.
    “When was Emily last seen, Mr. O’Hare, and by whom?”
    Brian O’Hare opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. His face turned red, as did his eyes and nose, and he began to cry. He covered his face with his hands while Kathy ran around to stand beside him, her hand on his broad shoulder. “I’ll tell you,” she said, ashen. “On Monday she came home from the factory, as happy as can be. I was going to go out to buy a loaf of bread, but I was so very tired, and she said she’d go for me.” Her face crumbled. “She went out and never came back. I remember looking at the clock in the window across the street and wondering where she was. It was five then. At six I began to really worry. At seven Brian came home and went looking for her.” Tears trickled down her face.
    Francesca said, “What time do you think she left the house?”
    “Four, maybe half past,” Kathy whispered, stricken.
    “Did she go into the grocery?”
    Kathy shook her head. “The grocer is Will Schmitt. He never saw her.”
    Francesca was silent for a moment, but she looked at Hart as she thought, in case he had anything to add. He understood and said, “Has she ever disappeared for a day or two—or even a few hours—before last Monday?”
    “Never!” It was Brian who now spoke. “My daughter is a good girl, and she knows her duty, she does.”
    “Mr. Hart meant no harm,” Francesca said, reaching out to cover his hand with her own. “But there are many questions we must ask, some of which are personal.”
    Brian nodded grimly. “Go on, then.”
    “Do you think she ran away?” Francesca asked.
    Brian snorted. “No.”
    Francesca looked at Kathy, who shook her head. “No,” she whispered. “I am certain of it, Miss Cahill.”
    Francesca glanced at Hart. He inclined his head imperceptiblytoward her, and she knew he wished for her to continue. “Did she have a boyfriend?”
    “No!” Brian shot to his feet, trembling. “Just what are you trying to say?”
    Francesca also stood. “I am trying to make certain she did not run off with a handsome young man whom we might easily find.”
    “Emily wasn’t that way,” Kathy said tremulously. “She’s very young for her age and she’s shy where the lads are concerned.”
    Francesca was at a loss. “Where is Schmitt’s Grocery? I’ll have to speak with him first thing tomorrow.”
    “It’s on the corner of Eleventh Street,” Kathy said.
    “What can you learn from him? He knows nothing!” Brian cried.
    “Every investigation has to start somewhere. After I speak with Schmitt, I may interview every person who lives and works on this block. Someone saw something,” Francesca said firmly, meaning it.
    “God, we got nothing, not even a single clue,” Brian said, his nose turning red again.
    Francesca stood. “No, Mr. O’Hare, we have more than nothing. Your daughter left here between four and half past four last Monday. She did not make it to the grocery store. It takes mere minutes to walk a single block. So sometime between four and four-thirty she disappeared—on this very block, between your door and that of Schmitt’s. That is hardly nothing. There is a witness out there who saw what happened to Emily. Of that I assure you.”
    Hart also stood.
    Kathy looked at her eagerly, hope flaring in her eyes. “You think so?”
    “I know so,” Francesca said, and she added, as the idea occurred to her, “We shall post a reward for information. Joel, I’ll make some flyers by hand tonight. You can post them first thing tomorrow, the rest I’ll print up, and we’ll post them in a four-block square by tomorrow evening.That,” she added with satisfaction, “should bring us a result or two.”
    Brian blinked at her, and for the first time that evening a light appeared in his eyes.