The Mystery at Belle Magnolia (Madeline Donovan Mysteries Book 3)

by Madison Kent

  He lightly slapped her on the back as if she were a man, then apologized for being so familiar.

  She smiled at his behavior and believed him a good man, but questioned his narrow scope of the investigation.

  She left the station and walked in the direction of Bourbon Street, where the vendors in their tents and storefronts were noisily selling their wares. The aroma of fish, crab and chicken being boiled up in large pots lingered in the air.

  She heard a familiar voice: a light, hypnotic voice, beautiful and haunting. The young beauty Marguerite was playing hopscotch by herself, with several young girls looking on in curiosity. It sounded like she was singing some lullaby.

  This time, when Madeline called out her name, she did not run. The girl turned and stared at her, and then kept repeating the word "Armand."

  "Marguerite, I found these items on the grounds of Belle Magnolia."

  Madeline had kept the porcelain doll and locket inside her satchel in the hopes she might, at some time, encounter the girl.

  "He's gone...my little one is gone, my most beloved child," said Marguerite.

  "Will you tell me if you tried to start a fire on the grounds or if you put snakes on the property? I promise I will not harm you nor tell anyone else. You have my word."

  "No...I would not harm anyone. I was looking for his spirit. Madame Clarice said I would find him and be able to speak with him if I brought the things that he possessed. She said his spirit was restless and would haunt the man who gave him no peace."

  "You mean Mr. Randolph?"

  "Yes, the one who freed the devil man, the one who calls himself Guy Finaldi. He took from us everything and now none of us will ever rest."

  "You must try to believe me when I tell you that Mr. Finaldi is innocent. He did not harm your Armand. We don't know who did it, but we will find them. Why did you leave your possessions? Did you drop them?"

  "No, I wanted to build a shrine of rocks and call out to Armand, but the white robe came. I became frightened and ran away."

  "You saw someone in a white robe? Was it a woman?"

  "I don't know. Maybe yes, maybe no. They moved like the wind in my dreams, like a cloud passing me by. They called to me to be gone. I thought it was the sign Madame Clarice had spoken about and that the voodoo magic had come into the night. I saw people coming so I ran. I don't remember when I stopped running—I think at the lake, for soon after I saw my brother and Madame Clarice.

  It was a considerable distance from Belle Magnolia to the lake, and she knew Marguerite could not have run all the way; someone must have helped her get there. But still, everything the young woman said sounded to be the truth. There was no hesitation in her words, and she spoke with clarity.

  "My brother will be angry with me that I have spoken to you."

  "Do not tell him."

  "I must. I tell my brother everything, just everything."

  She continued to say the word everything several more times and jumped up and down, once again drifting back into her special world. Madeline had wished to return to her the doll and locket, but she disappeared into the crowd. The young girls watching them began laughing and pretending to reenact Marguerite's actions. She supposed they were too young to realize their cruelty and walked away with a terrible sadness in her for what the girl would have to face in her life if she truly had lost her wits.

  She saw Hugh walking toward her and smiled broadly seeing a familiar face.

  "I confess I could not stay with the men, as entertaining as the conversation was. I was worried about you."

  "As was I," said Jonathan, coming up quickly behind him.

  "My dearest friends, how glad that makes my heart to hear you say it. I am better than I have a right to be. Father's touch of medicine has given the pain a welcome respite."

  "We have seen Madame Clarice. She was buying trinkets of some sort, and a few bloody chickens. I must say she is a striking woman. I never realized it before as we only saw her in the dark," said Jonathan.

  "She walked past us and looked at us in a way that one almost felt compelled to follow her. Yes, she has a dark beauty, as if her portrait belonged in a haunted gallery," said Hugh.

  She was not surprised to hear them say these things, for she found the witch's unusual features beautiful.

  "Did you speak with her?" asked Madeline.

  "We were about to when we saw you. Perhaps if we continue back, we may happen upon her," said Hugh.

  She gave them her account of her meeting with Inspector Matthews and Marguerite. They, in turn, told her again of the illustrious Frank Dowdry and his ability to have the local news at his fingertips.

  "Dowdry said Vinnie's been around more often of late; seems he's looking out for his younger brother, Mario. I think we may have seen him the other night at the Old Absinthe House.

  "Absinthe, your drink of choice. Should we go round to the place for a drink?" asked Hugh.

  "We will need to go in separate parties again. It would not do to have Vinnie or one of his friends observing Jonathan and Hugh together," said Madeline.

  "We shall try to sit within earshot of you," said Walter.

  Madeline had never been in a saloon that had the history of the Old Absinthe House. There was a rumor that the president himself has visited this saloon, as well as famous people from the Revolutionary War.

  "This is truly a work of art. The exquisite chandeliers, the paintings, and what looks to be marble and granite used for the counter areas," said Hugh.

  "Remember Whitechapel, the broken-down stout wooden chairs? These chairs seem carved for kings. It is amazing," said Madeline.

  "Hugh, do you see the fountains? I've never seen fountains in a saloon before."

  She turned to see Jonathan also admiring the workmanship of the table he sat at.

  The waiter approached them and saw their focus on the fountain area.

  "It is for the Absinthe House Frappe. You may be interested to know it was created here by one of our staff," said the young, strapping boy who appeared.

  "I have never heard of this. Could you explain?" asked Madeline.

  "If you like the taste of absinthe, you will like this. The water from the fountain is used to trickle cool water over cubes of sugar, it then drips into the glass of absinthe. It is quite a unique flavor and delicious, if I may so say so," he continued.

  "I do have a particular fondness for the drink, and this makes it sound almost sinful. I will take a glass," said Madeline.

  "And I, as well. How remarkable, a recipe we shall bring home to Chicago with us," said Hugh.

  She was pleased that he referred to Chicago as his home instead of London. She hoped Jonathan might one day consider working for a Chicago newspaper, although he loved his New York, and she doubted that he would.

  "It is annoying at best that we are unable to sit with our friends, but it is the best plan," said Madeline.

  The taste of the absinthe mixed with the light touch of the sugar made the drink heavenly.

  "It is amazing how a delightful concoction like this can soothe the spirit," she added.

  A boisterous young man was shooting dice at his table with his five friends. His curly, black hair fell slightly over his forehead.

  "He looks somehow familiar," said Madeline.

  She reached into her satchel to find the sketch Walter had drawn of Quick Vinnie.

  "Look...it could be his brother. What did you say they call him?"

  "Mario, I believe. Let's take a look at him," said Hugh as he glanced unobserved toward the lad.

  "It may be. The lighting in here is somewhat shadowy, but it could very well be. From his behavior, it sounds like the man Frank Dowdry described."

  They continued speaking for another twenty or so minutes, Madeline finishing the second of her delightful absinthe frappe. Sufficiently relaxed from her alcoholic beverage and father's gift of opium, she turned to Hugh and said, "I think I would like to speak to our Mario, at least if that's who he really is."<
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  Hugh touched her wrist in an attempt to restrain her, "Madeline, you appear somewhat—dare I say—inebriated. Perhaps it's not the best of times."

  "No, it is not the drink, perhaps the opium, either way, I am fine enough for what I hope to accomplish."

  The young men were engrossed in their drinking and dice play when Madeline walked by, pretending to be looking for something in her satchel. When she reached their table, she continued to look down and intentionally bumped full on into the chair where Mario sat.

  "Oh, my goodness, I do apologize. I don't know where my head is at today. Perhaps it is the lovely absinthe that I must blame," she said laughing softly like a school-girl.

  Although there might have been a half dozen or more years between their ages, Madeline had a youthful appearance. She now dressed fashionably, and many guessed her age at no more than twenty-five instead of the thirty years she was.

  She could tell by the way he looked at her that her plan had worked.

  "It is me, Miss. I had my chair out in the aisle too far. You know us men, we need a little space when we're throwing dice around. May I ask your name?" said the man.

  "Madeline, Madeline Donovan. A pleasure to meet you, Mister...?"

  "Mario, Mario Baroni. I also enjoy an absinthe occasionally. It has an interesting flavor, unlike the bitterness of most of the beer the boys and I drink.

  "Would you be offended if I asked you to join us?"

  "Not at all. I like to watch a good game of craps. I am with my cousin, Hugh. May I ask him to join us?"

  "Of course, the more, the merrier. But why watch? You may join us in the game if you like."

  The other young men looked disgruntled at this suggestion, but Mario continued to stare at her in the way she hoped, and she believed he would influence the others.

  "I will return in a moment," she said.

  Hugh looked at her in a disapproving manner when she returned, "Madeline..."

  "It's all right. I told him you were my cousin. We have been invited to join the game. Now be careful to keep our cover. We are just visitors from Chicago. We must not mention Belle Magnolia. We can say we are staying at the Dauphine Orleans if asked."

  "All right, but I am noting my reservation about this. These people are dangerous. If he is anything like his brother, despite his youth, he may still pose a threat."

  Mario stood and offered her his chair, then extended his hand to Hugh.

  "Hugh Scott, a pleasure."

  After introductions were made all around, Mario said, "You're English. What are you doing so far away from home?"

  "My father was English, but my mother's family are Americans, hailing from Chicago. My parents have a foot in both countries, as well as I. My uncle, Madeline's father, is an architect, as well as my father. We are here studying the fine buildings of New Orleans," Hugh explained.

  Madeline was not just a little surprised at how fluently Hugh told the fabricated story. She thought if he is that good at lying, maybe there is so much more to him than she thought. It would be harder for her now to accept everything he said as the ultimate truth.

  "If you will hold the dice for me, perhaps some of your charm will rub off on them and bring me luck," Mario said to her.

  She did so, touching his hand in an all too familiar way at which he turned to her and smiled in a seductive manner.

  Hugh took his cue from her and ordered a round of drinks for everyone at the table. Soon, Mario was speaking openly to her and in an unguarded manner. His friends, also inebriated, did not seem to care.

  She said, "Do you know anything about this exciting group of men, the Sicilian clan? I've heard they have power over this vibrant city. We've heard rumors that they are a strong, resilient group who will stop at nothing to get what they want. In Chicago, we have these groups also, but there are no such rumors about them. These men seem a cut above."

  She hoped playing to his vanity might induce him to say something revealing about his brother and his followers.

  Mario asked, "Would you like to take a little walk with me outside? I'll tell you something not many know around here."

  "Hugh, I will return shortly. You look like you're winning, so I don't want to break your lucky streak. We just want a little fresh air," said Madeline.

  Hugh had upped the ante in the game enough so that now no one seemed particularly interested that they left the table.

  "May I take your arm? These streets have so many bumps and ruts, a lady may easily twist her ankle," Madeline said.

  Madeline knew that Mario was now in a state of confusion, but not incoherent. Although she was feeling an ease, coupled with a loss of inhibitions herself, she had not partaken of enough alcohol to lose her wits. She knew exactly what she was doing and why.

  "Don't tell me you know some of those gentlemen? You must feel privileged to be in their social circle," said Madeline.

  "More than that: I have a brother who is considered favorably among them. He is most definitely in the inner circle and trusted by the high-ranking members," said Mario.

  "It sounds fascinating. Tell me how it all works."

  "There are two groups of men fighting for supremacy over New Orleans. They organize and maintain, shall I say, a certain hold over some of the successful businesses here. They provide a great service...protection. For this, they are given compensation. Of course, it's difficult when two groups are competing for the same customers. Only one can have the upper hand. We Sicilians have greater integrity than the Italian group. We set a high standard for what we do and guarantee our service."

  "Are you within this circle also...like your brother?"

  "I am in a small way. I assist my brother sometimes, but nothing in the way he does. Like I said, he is important. Me...I'm a small fish."

  "What does your brother do exactly?"

  She knew this was a risky question and might stall their conversation, but she decided the opportunity was there, and she would try.

  "That's another matter. I'm not likely to talk about that—my brother's a private person."

  "What's his name?"

  "Danny."

  "That doesn't sound very Sicilian sounding."

  "No...you're right. It's not Danny."

  "Is this society so secretive you cannot even speak your own brother's name?"

  "It is. I shouldn't even be talking about him at all. Someday, if I'm lucky, I'll be important too. Recently, I have gone up in the ranks, though, if I do say so. Something I did that may one day make my name too."

  "What is that?"

  "I wouldn't last long in my line of work if I told you that."

  But he had told her. He confirmed both he and his brother's involvement with the Mafia. What their crimes were would take a great deal more of sleuthing, if they ever were privy to anything at all.

  "May I ask if you might have dinner with me one night before your return to Chicago? Where did you say you were staying...oh yes, the Dauphine Orleans. It's a grand place. My brother has friends who work there. Perhaps we can have dinner at the restaurant there."

  "Yes, perhaps. Let's join the others before we have no chance of winning back our money—my cousin seems to be doing better than usual."

  When they returned, another man had joined them. She had to do her best acting not to reveal her thoughts. Her heart was racing as she rejoined the group.

  "Mario, I was just asking about you," said Vinnie in a gruff, deep voice.

  The unmistakable scar on his forehead made for instant recognition. He resembled his picture, but she was surprised to see him dressed as a gentleman, looking as distinguished as Hugh. He was shorter than she had thought, perhaps only five foot six inches, yet his demeanor of strength and authority made him appear much taller in her mind.

  "This is a new friend of mine, Madeline Donovan. I'm assuming you already met her cousin, Hugh Scott."

  "Vincenzo Baroni, how do you do? Yes, I've had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Scott. I see he's taking your boys mon
ey. You have to watch these tourists; they have beginner's luck," he said with a thin-lipped smile.

  She wondered how Hugh had reacted when Vinnie appeared. However, the fact that he was seeking justice against Jonathan for a gambling debt played perfectly into the scenario. In fact, Hugh, once in his youth, had helped pay his law school fees by doing a little gambling on the side but had for many years been only an intermittent player.

  "My brother has a weakness for beautiful women. I am not surprised he wanted you all to himself."

  She blushed at this, and he added, "Do not have false modesty, Miss Donovan. Do not all women enjoy hearing they are beautiful?"

  Stunned by his frankness, and within a group of all men, she felt uncomfortable by his remarks.

  "I believe my cousin is not accustomed to men speaking so boldly. She is rather sheltered and usually in the company of only family," said Hugh.

  "Like any good Sicilian woman. Pardon me for speaking out of turn, Miss Donovan. Will you join me in a game?" asked Vinnie.

  The other young men seemed reluctant to play craps with Vinnie, one of the boys apologizing when he won a game. She sensed they feared him, even when partaking in a casual game of chance.

  After another half hour, Vinnie said to the young men, "I think it's time you returned to whatever business commitments you might have. You should not stay too long in the atmosphere of play, it may make you lazy, and Sicilians are never that."

  The men stood as if at military attention, saying their goodbyes quickly.

  "Mario, you stay. I need to speak with you," he continued. "I would also like a word with Mr. Scott."

  Madeline had looked around the room for Jonathan. He and Walter had removed themselves from their close proximity to them and were now in a darkened corner of the saloon She had thought they might have left, and knew Jonathan was aware of the danger of discovery, but possibly the curiosity of watching the action at their table had kept him from being more prudent.

  Mario and Vinnie walked away to an area where the marble fountain was. The constant sound of the fountain, along with the noise of the patrons, was the perfect setting to not be overheard.