by Madison Kent
The Harrison
A Beautiful Place to Die
Madison Kent
Madeline Donovan Mystery
Contents
Dedication
Copyright
Author's Notes
Prologue
Chapter One: The Agency
Chapter Two: In Search of Maria
Chapter Three: The Harrison
Chapter Four: Felicia and Wanda
Chapter Five: A Time to Cry
Chapter Six: Investigation
Chapter Seven: A Pinch of Sugar
Chapter Eight: Hidden Clues
Chapter Nine: It's Murder
Chapter Ten: Jonathan Arrives
Chapter Eleven: The Third Floor
Chapter Twelve: The Skeleton
Chapter Thirteen: Vincenzo's Folly
Chapter Fourteen: Solutions
Chapter Fifteen: Marilyn's Dilemma
Chapter Sixteen: Barrels of Death
Chapter Seventeen: The Twins
Chapter Eighteen: Unexpected Good News
Chapter Nineteen: An Unsettling Development
Chapter Twenty: Darkness
Chapter Twenty-One: Until We Meet Again
Chapter Twenty-Two: The Final Analysis
DEDICATION
To the Army medic, John Francis, who became a Bronze Star
recipient resulting from his actions at the
Battle of Myitkyina in Burma-WWII
Copyright
The Harrison
© 2014, Madison Kent
Self-publishing
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author /publisher.
All material is based on fictional characters.
Author's Notes
The Madeline Donovan mystery series now includes the following books according to publication order: Stalking Jack, The Harrison, and The Mystery at Belle Magnolia.
Each book was written so that it stands alone and does not require the reader to have read the other books in the series. However, it does enhance the experience to read them in consecutive order.
Other titles available in the romance and fantasy genre is viewable on my website at http://madisonkentwebsite.wix.com/books
There are book trailers available for each book are on YouTube.
Book Trailers:
YouTube Book Trailers
Stalking Jack (Book One)
https://youtu.be/1_tVsDyBiGg
The Harrison -A Beautiful Place to Die (Book Two)
https://youtu.be/XpdQrxPiBZw
The Mystery at Belle Magnolia (Book Three)
https://youtu.be/Uv8S6wpSlt0
Stalking Jack
A Madeline Donovan Mystery
Madeline Donovan is a complicated woman, distressed and ready to abandon life as she knows it. A recent tragedy has left her without the vision or moral compass to go forward. She is not leading her own life at the moment; it is leading her. The journey she will take into London’s East End will show her realms of life she has never seen before and rather than being repelled by it, she immerses herself into this dark side of London. After all, Jack the Ripper must be stopped.
The Harrison:
A Beautiful Place to Die
A Madeline Donovan Mystery
In 1889, Chicago was booming and lavish buildings, and must-see architectural and cultural wonders are springing up everywhere around the city. Even in Madeline Donovan's little-known neighborhood of Goose Island, a luxurious hotel has been built within a half-mile of her home. The Harrison. Built by a trio of brothers, the three-story building has unusual features that attract many to its doors.
But soon after its opening, young girls begin to disappear. One girl's brothers has employed Madeline to look into her disappearance.
It will begin her journey into the secret world of the Harrison brothers and others who reside in that mysterious place.
Her friend Hugh returns to America, and Jonathan Franks, the reporter from the New York Times is sent to Chicago to cover a different story but finds himself with Madeline and Hugh on the trail of the perpetrators.
They will soon discover the terrifying secrets that lie beneath the surface of the beautiful hotel.
The Mystery at Belle Magnolia
A Madeline Donovan Mystery
Madeline Donovan and her father respond to an urgent request from an old friend. To fulfill this request, they must travel to the city of New Orleans and the beautiful mansion, Belle Magnolia.
Belle Mayfair, the proud Southern belle who is the owner of Belle Magnolia, has recently come under assault. It appears a curse placed upon the mansion and its residents. Many believe it must be true because the spirit of the great Marie Laveau, the voodoo priestess of New Orleans, may have something to do with it.
The strange events that begin to happen at the mansion have driven Belle Mayfair's servants away and even kept her friends at bay. She has turned to someone she trusts implicitly, Dr. Brian Donovan, and implores him to come to assist her in her hour of need.
What will happen next will have everyone wondering, even Madeline, if it is possible that spirits do exist?
Prologue
After an extended time in London, Madeline Donovan returns to her hometown of Chicago. Her experience abroad created the desire to establish a detective agency. Madeline's unexpected adventure while traversing the streets of Whitechapel, although dangerous, gave her a way to cope with life again and find purpose.
Her first case presents itself from a surprising source and has ties to a hotel that is within walking distance of her home. Young girls are disappearing in Chicago; it reminds her of the infamous Jack the Ripper. She begins to wonder if such a creature could exist in her backyard or is it, as the police think, just a case of young girls sowing their wild oats and looking for excitement in a bustling city.
Her two dearest friends Hugh Scott and Jonathan Franks will once again come to be by her side and assist her in her quest to find the girls. Although she believes she will never again marry or have another family, both men have romantic feelings towards her, and she is softening to the idea that maybe she can love again.
The eccentricities of the owners of The Harrison Hotel are many, but are they so peculiar that one could be the murderer? The Harrison itself is a building of secrets and confounds Madeline as to what it hides on its third floor.
Chapter One
The Agency
June 1, 1889
Dear Hugh,
It does not seem possible that it has been nearly six months since I have seen your face smiling at me. I miss the pleasure of conversing with you at length about Jack the Ripper and all manner of things. I received your last letter with a grateful heart. I fairly ran up to our porch, without even entering the house, and sat on the veranda reading your welcome words.
There is not a day that goes by that I do not think of you and hope that all is well. Especially in the evening, when the moon shines directly onto our window seat, I think of you. The moon casts such a lovely shadow and reminds me so of looking out over the streets from my room at the George. It is at those times, whenever there is a knock at the door, that I peer out and almost expect to see you or Jonathan standing
there.
I am still looking for a proper rental place for my agency. I hope to find one that is reasonably priced and with access to the business district and walk-in traffic. Father, of course, is discouraging me at every turn, but my determination is strong in this.
There has been an epidemic of viruses that have afflicted the residents, and Father spends long nights attending to his patients. He has compelled me to assist him, and I do. However, it is hindering my initial effort to get my detective agency off the ground.
I do hope you and the aunts will seriously consider coming to America for the Christmas holidays. Wouldn’t it be wonderful for all of us to be together again?
Please write soon.
Your dearest friend,
Madeline
Hugh Scott, the dashing young solicitor from London, who, standing at nearly six-foot, with short, silky black hair that always seemed groomed to perfection, was someone very dear to her heart. She had befriended him while residing in London for a few months in the autumn of 1888.
When she arrived in London, she was frail and in a state of mind so befuddled that her small frame of five-foot-three inches appeared even slighter still. She ate only to survive and nearly blew in the wind at just one hundred pounds. Her once lovely, long auburn hair was now just piled atop her head with a few pins. Still, somehow Hugh Scott and Jonathan Franks had shown a compassionate and almost loving interest in her.
She believed her appearance had somewhat improved from those times, but she knew she was guilty of still neglecting herself. She looked up from her reading to glance at her reflection in the porch window. She still had her streak of white hair cascading down the left side of her face, and she still looked undernourished. However, she now wore lovely, bright-hued frocks and even adorned herself with a rose-colored pearl necklace and earrings. She knew if she were to go into business, she would have to be more diligent about appearing fashionable and in the picture of health.
“Madeline,” her father called out, "hurry", it’s Mrs. Gardner. I think it’s time—the baby is coming.”
“Oh, Father, must I? You know how I dislike watching the mother’s writhing like that. I was just about to walk down to the business district.”
“I’m sorry, my dear, but Mrs. Abernathy is still not recovered."
Mrs. Abernathy, her father’s nurse, and employee, was down with an ailment that produced fever and vomiting. Madeline thought she would bring them some chicken broth, and do whatever she could to get the poor woman back on her feet, purely for selfish reasons.
She was certain now more than ever that she must get her detective agency off the ground. She did not wish to be readily available, and at her father’s beckoning. It wasn’t that she didn’t love him; it was because she didn’t particularly take any fancy to the practice of medicine. She never liked the sight of blood. As for the birthing of a child, she could barely endure her own childbirth experience, let alone someone else’s.
After her sleuthing experience in London, she had decided that being an amateur detective suited her. She loved the idea of tracking down the miscreants that plagued society.
Reluctantly, she helped her father carry his medical bag and other materials needed for Mrs. Gardner.
An old woman answered the door, throwing her hands up in the air; she exclaimed, “Oh, thank heaven you’re here. She’s in there, in the back bedroom.”
Amidst the mayhem of the Gardner household, where three other children already had laid claim to the house and were running about shouting and playing boisterously; Dr. Donovan assisted the birth of a child, yet another boy, Mrs. Gardner's fourth.
“Thank you, Madeline,” said Father as they stood side by side, washing in the large basin of water the old woman had brought for them.
“Yes, it is wonderful, at least the part when it’s over and new life comes into the world. It always makes me think of my boys. I’m afraid, Father, I will have to leave you. I will return later in the day. I think I will go to the park,” she said as she wiped away the few tears that had fallen upon her cheek.
“Oh, Madeline, what’s wrong with me? I shouldn’t have asked. I just thought as you have been doing so well…”
“No, Father, do not fret. I was glad to do it. I think, though, I would like to walk for a while.”
He hugged her, and she departed.
Chapter Two
In Search of Maria
Madeline Donovan became a widow during the Christmas of 1887, when her husband and two beloved boys, Will, and Nate, died in a fire, presumably ignited by their Christmas tree. She had come a long way in adjusting back into society, but only after a period of grieving that all but took her life. Mrs. Gardner's son, crying out with loud, sweet bursts of life, brought back the memory of her first-born Will, and the joy she and her husband, Russell, felt at that moment of birth, and then later with Nate.
Lost in thought, she continued walking and did not stop at the small park near their home. She instead found she had walked far enough that she was now in view of the Harrison Hotel on Erie Street. The three-story hotel was the grandest building anywhere near her home. It had been the talk of the neighborhood since the residents knew that such a place would come to rest in their humble surroundings. She believed it had been open perhaps two or three months now, and she had meant several times to walk about the place to observe its décor and clientele.
The foyer was more impressive than that of the George, the hotel she had stayed at in London. The marble floors gleamed like starlight, boasting ornate pillars that designated the different entrance-ways. Upon entering, the nearest shop was a Parisian type café that served beverages and delicate pastries. Seating was available outside the café, where you could view the activity of the patrons and staff congregating throughout the area. Lavish, red velvet draperies, with sheer white panels, adorned the panoramic windows that allowed you to see out into the street. It was lovely, and she felt it was a beautiful addition to her neighborhood. Chicago was stretching its arms and bustling with new construction and an abundance of new businesses were popping up everywhere.
Stopping at the French cafe, she chose to sit in its extension in the lobby. She sipped her Earl Grey slowly, stirring it with a spoon that made a tinkling noise when it hit the China sides. Darjeeling had been her choice of tea for many years, but she had taken to drinking Earl Grey recently because it reminded her of London. It was what her dearest friends from there, the aunts and Hugh, had preferred to drink.
She had yet to see the rooms, but from everything she saw, she decided this would be the perfect place for the aunts to stay if they were ever to visit her.
After an enjoyable hour of listening to and watching the bustling crowd at The Harrison, she slowly walked back down the quarter mile of road towards her home, looking up at the two and three story flats, abundant with life flowing out from them.
Children were playing marbles and baseball; it was indeed a lovely Chicago afternoon.
She arrived at their two-story flat on Erie Street, feeling joy at the sight of her home. It had been constructed only one year before and still had that lovely newness about it. The silvery gray brick home boasted a decorative bay window on the main floor where they resided. She enjoyed looking up from the window seat, where she sat on many an afternoon reading. The ever flow of people and pushcart vendors traveling through the street was a portrait in motion. A floral brocade rug with autumn colors of green, brown and light burnt orange lay over the parquet floor. Three pieces of footed furniture, in the same color scheme, sat so that the light of the day would shine upon them. The room was spacious, nearly two thousand square feet and would have been considered a grand amount of space compared to the tiny rooms she had seen in London.
When leaving the main family room, and entering the dining area, one would pass through two mahogany colored pillars on either side of the room. A beautiful oak table, a buffet, and a china hutch graced the room. The table, all of twelve feet long, had once had
many a dinner at it, but no more. These were among the few pieces of furniture father had brought with him from her childhood home on Evergreen Street.
Cook called out to her, “Mrs. Donovan, your father wishes you to dress in your finery for dinner,” said Mrs. O'Malley, as she stirred the pot of broth in the large, clean, white kitchen.
“Is there a special guest coming?” asked Madeline.
“There is, Miss, and he said you would be particularly interested in who it was.”
“You have piqued my interest, Mrs. O'Malley. I will do so, and will be in to assist you with the table as soon after I dress.”
“Thank you, Miss. I do appreciate that. I believe your father invited Uncle Hank.”
“Oh, wonderful—I have not seen very much of him this week.”
He wasn’t really her Uncle Hank but had been a cherished neighbor who now rented the basement flat. A bachelor, he worked a rigorous day at the Chicago stockyards, his pencil-thin frame and drawn face showing every bit of his care-worn days. Whenever she dropped in for a quick visit, the only food items in his cupboard were a few apples, and maybe a bottle of beer. Father often invited him to dinner, but he was a proud man and rarely accepted the invitation. Mr. Henry Dabrowski was very dear to her, and she had taken to calling him "Uncle Hank" many years before.
Arriving downstairs in her maroon lace frock―her hair pinned back, and adorned with two pearl combs for accent, she saw her father’s approving smile. Her two-inch heeled black leather laced up boots made her appear taller.