The Harrison: A Beautiful Place to Die (Madeline Donovan Mysteries Book 2)

by Madison Kent

  “I certainly hope you are right. Is there a possibility I may see the hotel registry to see if she had checked in?”

  “I'm sorry, Miss. I'd have to get the permission of the owners to let you do that, but I'll look it over myself, if you'll wait a minute.”

  As she waited for Mr. Winter to review the last two weeks' registers, she gazed upon the many patrons walking through the lobby. It was obvious that there was an inordinate amount of young ladies browsing the shops, and gathering in the café.

  “No, Miss, I don’t see her name here. Is it possible she might have checked in under a different name?”

  “That is unlikely. But if you could do me the favor of passing the information to the staff in the event someone has seen her, I would be grateful.”

  “I will be happy to.”

  She left him her contact information. However, she doubted, in this bustling atmosphere, that anyone would consider the plight of two missing young women as something of a concern. It was a sea of women; she wondered if anyone would be able to tell one woman from another, even if they were intent on looking for just one particular woman.

  She walked back to the drugstore, and purchased a copy of the Chicago Tribune, looking for any news that might be relevant to her pursuit. On the third page, on the bottom, was a short article about the discovery of the body of a dead woman's body near the stockyards. The paper stated they believed it might be a suicide. Her breathing became rapid as she went on reading the description. There were not many details. The dead woman was of average height, believed to be in her twenties, and dressed well. They noted there was no identification on the body. The death was being investigated, and the police were asking for any information anyone might have as to who the victim was. There was always the possibility it was Maria.

  She decided she must go to the police station to find out what she could. She hoped Rosa and Louie had not seen the article.

  Madeline would go to the Maxwell Street Station. It was barely a year old, and according to the papers was one of the finest police stations in the country. But Chicago was a growing metropolis and compared to the population, police officers were in short supply.

  When she arrived at the station, people were everywhere, most of them arguing and demanding attention. She had to wait nearly two hours before a nervous, slender, young man named Jimmy Parsons brought her to his desk.

  “Now, what is it we can do for you today, Miss?” asked Mr. Parsons.

  “I’m seeking information on behalf of a friend of mine. Their sister never returned from a trip into the city a few days ago. I have a picture of her here with me. In light of what I read in the paper this morning about the poor girl from the stockyards, I wanted to be certain it wasn’t Maria,” said Madeline as she handed him the photograph.

  “I can probably narrow it down for you without even looking at the picture. Was she a blonde?” asked Mr. Parsons.

  “No, she has black, wavy hair.”

  “Then it is not her. This unfortunate lady was a fine-looking blonde, a real looker. What a terrible shame. Have your friends filed a missing person report?”

  “I know they have spoken to someone, but they were told to come back in a few days. It would seem that would be a harsh request to make to a family panicked by this occurrence.”

  “Unfortunately, people come and go in a city like Chicago at a rapid pace. We barely have 800 officers for a city of almost a million people. Unless there is evidence of a crime, we simply don’t have the manpower to investigate. Have you thought of hiring a private detective?”

  “She did. That’s why I’m here.”

  “You? I beg your pardon, Miss, but you are an unlikely person to be a detective.”

  “Perhaps for now, but soon women will hold many positions once thought of to be a man’s job.”

  “I’ll note your visit and try to follow up with you. It does seem we have had an unusual amount of people reporting young ladies that have not returned home. Most of the time it turns out they come home, or have been found to have traveled elsewhere without their family being aware of it. Young ladies do not always like their family knowing their every little secret.”

  “Hmm…to me, that scenario does not ring true in this case, Mr. Parsons. I would appreciate it if you would keep one of these photographs of Maria to show to the other officers.”

  “I will, Miss; I will post it on our board. I do understand your concern. I have a sister who has just turned twenty-one and I don’t imagine she would do a thing like that.”

  “Thank you. I’m sure I will return again. Should I inquire for you?”

  “Yes. As I have your information and will be aware of why you are here, I would be the best one to follow up with.”

  She left with a sense of relief that the deceased woman was not Maria, but she believed the young woman to be in danger. She would attempt to visit the places she felt a woman visiting the city would most likely have visited. Tonight, she would go to the McVicker’s Theater.

  Walking home, she found herself staring at every woman who passed her, but no one looked like Maria. The words Mr. Parsons spoke about missing women stayed with her, and made her believe there was a greater possibility of foul play. She thought of the Ripper again, and it gave her a momentary chill that she physically had to shake off.

  Arriving home, she found that her father was in the parlor with Louie Falco.

  “Mrs. Donovan, excuse the intrusion, but I just saw in the paper…”

  “Wait, I know what you’re going to say. It’s all right, I’ve already been to the police station, and the victim was a young blonde, and definitely not your sister.”

  With that said Louie sank back into the divan, buried his head in his hands, and kept repeating, “Thank God, thank God,” then added, “I could not bring myself to go. You don’t know how relieved I am. Thank you for going. Your father was right to have introduced us. I see you do care about this, and despite being a woman may be able to help us.”

  She dismissed his comment about a woman’s capabilities, knowing his concern for his sister caused him not to mince words. Besides, she knew that this was the consensus about women in business, and she would have to prove herself before that supposition was corrected.

  “Yes, I was also relieved. I will endeavor to cover more ground each day. You said your sister enjoyed the theater so I will go to the McVicker's this evening. It is the most well-known of the Chicago theaters and the closest to our area. I would think it might be a place she would have wanted to go.”

  “Rosa and I will continue our search in our neighborhood, and then go into the market areas. Rosa, however, gets more despondent when we have no word from our Maria. Each day that passes now I am more fearful that something terrible has happened to her.”

  “I know…that possibility certainly has to be met. How long has it been again?”

  “It will be five days today with no word from her.”

  “I will contact you if I hear anything tonight, even if it is late, I will get word to you. Otherwise, I propose that we meet again in the Sixth Street café in two days at six.”

  “I will try and bring Rosa with me, if she is well enough,” said Louie.

  They said their good-byes and Madeline watched him walk away with his eyes downcast to the street, and his shoulders slumped. She imagined the fear that must be taking hold of him and hoped she was able to find something out that would lead her to Maria.

  Father was not home yet, and she wished she had someone to discuss all that had transpired. She decided she would write to Hugh. She gathered her writing materials at the window seat and began to write.

  June 8, 1889

  Dear Hugh,

  I look forward to hearing from you soon and am anxious to know if you and the aunts have considered my offer to come and stay at Christmas-time.

  Although I still have no storefront for my business, I do have my first client, and from the most unlikely of sources, my father. A brother an
d sister came to dinner the other night and told me of the disappearance of their sister, who was visiting from New York. I believe she is in danger and have begun my investigation at a hotel built near my home. This story has a curious twist as I have also learned that there are several other inquiries made about missing young women. Of course, the first thing I thought of was it possible that there is someone preying on young girls, as Jack had done. As of yet, though, there have been no murders reported. Yesterday, however, a deceased woman was found at the stockyards. It is unknown whether this was an accident, by suicide or by foul means that she died.

  I wish you were here so that I could once again have your counsel on these matters and had your steady on demeanor quiet my mind.

  She continued her letter describing her meeting with Marilyn and Nancy and her planned trip to McVicker’s Theater. She would write to Jonathan Franks, her friend, ally, and reporter at the New York Times, later in the day and inform him also of these mysterious disappearances.

  Louie had brought her additional photographs of Maria. She placed them in her satchel and prepared herself for her night at the theater.

  “It’s been a long day, Madeline. I will enjoy our time together. If we hurry, perhaps we will have time to dine,” said her father.

  “That would be wonderful, Father.”

  It was considered compulsory that the shoulder's of women’s evening gowns show the shoulders and cut so that they revealed the bosom of a woman. It had been quite a while since Madeline had worn her provocative dark red gown, but being accompanied by her father gave her the comfort level she needed to present herself in society in such attire.

  “Madeline, how beautiful you look! My darling girl has returned. It should not have taken the search for Miss Maria to bring you back to life. You must insert yourself back into the social world again. You have taken such steps forward these last few months. I hope to see you enjoying the theater again soon, and without you father, but with a male admirer.”

  “I have thought about it, Father, but not just yet. Perhaps if Hugh or Jonathan were here, I would have been tempted. I am all right. If it is to happen, it must not be forced. Besides, it adds intrigue to our evening out together, to be pursuing leads in my case.”

  Their carriage arrived at McVicker’s Theater on a moonless night. The air was warm and inviting, and the noise of the city was pervasive, making her feel a sudden excitement in the moment.

  William Shakespeare’s The Tempest was the event scheduled. She had longed to see this play, but now the circumstances that had brought her there had changed her plans just to immerse herself in the ambiance and beauty of the theater. After the Chicago fire of 1871, Louis Sullivan, the great architect, had designed it to resemble an Athenian temple. Its atmosphere was breathtaking, with a myriad of ornamental columns, and at least a dozen mythological creatures painted on the walls. Stenciled glass windows decorated the large auditorium. It was an attraction that lured the city’s visitors, and Madeline believed Maria may have ventured to its captivating arms.

  “Father, I would like to wait to be seated and mingle in the foyer for a bit. I'd like to show Maria’s picture to the staff.”

  “I will have a glass of wine while I wait for you. I see Dr. Hill and his family. I think I will go over and pay my regards. I will wait for you at the main entrance,” he replied.

  She spoke to any employee who would give her a minute of their time, but they were scurrying about and reluctant to give her photo more than just a cursory glance. Then she approached an older man, with thick white hair parted in the middle of his head, and puffy reddish cheeks.

  “Excuse me, sir. I wonder if you might look at this photograph. This young lady, Maria, has been missing these last few days, and her family believed she might have been here. I know you must meet so many people, but she is so striking, perhaps you remember her.”

  He stopped and handled the picture gingerly in his wrinkled fingers before scratching his head. He said nothing for a moment, then looked up at her and said, “Yes, I think it’s her. Yesterday—no, wait, the day before yesterday—a young lady came up to me that who was separated from her group of friends. She was quite frantic as she said she was not familiar with the area and was from out of town. New York, I think she said.”

  “Yes, yes,” she interrupted him with a touch of his arm. “That must be her.”

  “She stayed with me for quite a while, both of us watching for her three friends. I believe she said there were two ladies and a gentleman. We never saw them; she thanked me and said she would take a carriage home. I remember her saying she hoped she had enough money to pay the fare and looking worried. I don’t like to see a young girl alone without an escort, and I offered to accompany her if she waited till I was off duty—even told her I’d loan her the fare, but she would have none of it. She said if anyone inquired about her, to tell them she had returned to the hotel. After that, I remember seeing her leave through the main entrance and didn’t see her again,” said the gentleman.”

  “You remember her specifically saying she would be returning to her hotel?”

  “Yes. She didn’t give me the name, and I assumed they might be all staying there together and would know what she was referring to. I do hope the young woman is all right. She was a delightful girl.”

  “Thank you, Mister…?”

  “Sam Thompson, and may I ask your name?”

  “Madeline Donovan,” she answered as she scrawled her contact information on a piece of paper and handed it to him.

  “Please, if you should see her or if anyone inquires about her, I would appreciate it if you would let me know. It is of critical importance.”

  “I will. I promise you I will.”

  The theater bell chimed indicating the entrance doors were about to close. Madeline made her way back to her waiting father.

  “I was beginning to think we would be locked out. I have not had the pleasure of going to the theater in a long time. I am looking forward to it,” said Dr. Donovan.

  “Yes, I am happy we are here together,” said Madeline as she thought of Maria’s family, and the torment they must be going through.

  Although a masterful work of art, The Tempest could not hold her attention, and Madeline found herself looking at every face that she could clearly see in the dimmed light of the theater. She knew it was a fruitless task, but she could not stop herself from staring, hoping to see someone who resembled Maria.

  When they returned to the lobby during intermission, she said, “Father, one of the doormen believed he may have seen Maria. A small miracle no doubt, but I think it was her. She had become separated from her companions and said she would return to the hotel. Curious, don’t you think, that she said she would refer to a hotel instead of her sister’s home? The Harrison Hotel has become my focal point now. Something untoward must be going on there."

  "I believe this endeavor to be a detective is filled with risks, and the prospect of finding out the information you need is like threading a needle with a piece of yarn—an impossible task. Perhaps you should rethink this matter.”

  “If I can make a go of it, I will hire other females to help me, and perhaps even a man.”

  Father laughed, and she took his arm as they reentered the theater.

  Instead of enjoying the rest of the performance, her mind’s eye only saw young girls being pulled from their rooms or abducted in the street.

  She felt in a rush to return home; kissing father good-night, she hurried to her room and her writing desk. Tomorrow she would return to the hotel, but tonight she would write to Jonathan and ask his opinion about what was happening so close to her home.

  June 9, 1889

  Dear Jonathan,

  The most peculiar events have occurred over the last week. I have become employed by a family seeking my assistance to find their missing sister. While attempting to do so, I have discovered that several other ladies have been reported missing in the area as well. I wish you worked at o
ne of the Chicago papers so that I could speak to you as we once did about Jack. I feel there must be a sinister presence that is connecting these disappearances. It seems unlikely to me that these missing women do not in some way have a direct link to each other.

  She went on to ask his advice on what he might do and also requested that he write her soon. She hoped he would have reason at some point to be sent by the Times to her city.

  Chapter Four

  Felicia and Wanda

  The morning found her with a renewed spirit to revisit the hotel where all things seemed to converge.

  Father had already left for his office when she came down for breakfast. Mrs. O'Malley smiled at her as she set her cup of tea down and said, “Miss, you had a visitor who came shortly after you left last night. Mr. Falco, the man from the other evening. He said it was important that he speak with you. He said he would be here before the noon hour.”

  “Oh…I had planned an early morning trip, but now I suppose it will have to wait.”

  “Did you enjoy the theater?”

  “It proved a delight in every way. It was wonderful to be with Father. We have so seldom gone out together, and I may have gleaned some useful information pertaining to our missing Maria.”

  “I’m sure your Mr. Falco will be happy to hear that.”

  “Will you prepare a light lunch for us, Mrs. O'Malley? Nothing fancy, perhaps just some simple ham cuts and vegetables. That will do nicely.”

  “Of course. Will there be anything else?”

  “No, I think I will try to put some thoughts to paper, and see if I can organize a plan.”

  She returned to her room, musing over what Louie had to see her about. Perhaps Maria had made contact with him. She hoped that was the case as she began writing in her journal. The Tribune had reported that the young lady's identification, found in the stockyards, was unknown. It was still undetermined by the police as to the manner of her death, and still no one had come forward to shed any light on the identity.