by Madison Kent
"Madeline, we waited dinner for you, but when you did not come, we dined without you. I had Mrs. O'Malley save you a plate of food. Would you like it now?" asked Father.
"No, thank you. I ate a salad at the cafe. I wasn't very hungry, but I do think I will join you for some dessert."
"Louie came by and said they will be having a private closed-casket wake tomorrow. Only immediate family will be invited. He said the news reporters have already been diligent in their attempts to interview him. He asked that you call on him in a few days after she is at rest," said father.
"How did you find his sister?" asked Madeline.
"She was inconsolable and incoherent. She muttered, "It can't be true", over and over again. But she gave in to sleep quickly after I gave her the sedative of opium. Opium can be so destructive, but in small amounts can be a blessed relief from pain."
Yes, Madeline thought, remembering the times when she used opium to try relieving her bouts of grief. For her, though, she was still paying the price from the withdrawal of the drug. Her headaches were constant, and she still had moments, like these, when she craved to use the drug again.
"I'm certain it will be a while before she can cope with her loss, but I think Louie will be strong for all of them. The most curious of things, when we went to view the body, she had marks on her wrists which appeared as an injury from being constrained. There was a delineation of a circle around both her wrists," said Madeline.
"I don't understand how she was trampled by those horses. The noise is so loud, how could she have run in front of them," said Uncle Hank.
"You were there just a short time after the incident. Do you remember anyone who was there that might have been witness to the event?" asked Madeline.
"There was so much commotion―people were screaming and running, but the usual couple of men, the street vendors were there. I think the one man's name is Jacob. He's the one who sells the potatoes and watermelons. He's always singing when he pushes his cart along the street. He's not one you likely forget. I would start with him," suggested Hank.
"That is useful information. I will seek him out tomorrow. I think I will retire now, and write to Jonathan and tell him of this latest news."
She had told her father earlier about Hugh coming to America, and she added, "You are certain you will have no objection to Hugh staying with us?"
"How could you even ask? That young man was so hospitable and kind to us when we were there. How could we do otherwise?"
"I have no heard yet whether he has accepted. I hope he will, but sometimes he can be very British and may think it improper."
"He did not feel so when taking you in when you were ill. I certainly hope he will stay. I look forward to seeing him again."
"I'm happy to hear that. He is a special friend. I think you will like him also, Uncle Hank."
"If he is a friend of yours, of course, I will," he said as he smiled at her and squeezed her hand.
When she was in her room, she held the pictures of her family, now gone from her for almost two years. Russell, Nate, and Will would always be the last faces she would see every night as she kissed the photograph of them that sat at the table by her bed.
"Sometimes I miss you all so much I think I cannot tolerate another day on this earth. But I know I am fortunate to have Father, Uncle Hank, and Mrs. O'Malley. They are all so good to me. Still..." she said softly.
She had hoped to rest, choosing to read some poetry by candlelight, but she was consumed with the thoughts of the missing girls out there somewhere. The way the brick buildings were constructed did not allow for bedroom windows, and still not asleep by midnight, she decided to return to her favorite window seat in the main living area. Taking her stationery with her, she positioned herself within the moonlight that cascaded into the room. She was comforted by the thought that Hugh would soon be here. She could once again seek his counsel on all manner of things. But for now, Jonathan Franks, her other dear friend, and advocate, was on her mind.
June 19, 1889
Jonathan,
I hope this letter finds you well. One of my father's patients has employed my services as a detective. My first case has found me in the midst of the most unusual of circumstances. I can tell you that it is often I have thought of you and wished I could speak to you about it. I believe it would be a story you would cover if you were here in Chicago.
I was retained to find a sister who had gone missing while on vacation here. The most unfortunate of ends found her meeting her death in a gruesome way―trampled under the wheels of a carriage. There are also several other girls missing. I don't suppose you would have heard of this news in New York, as it has barely made the news in Chicago. The article referring to it is hardly even noticeable, being placed on the twentieth page of today's paper.
My other news is more pleasant, Hugh Scott is coming to America and should be here within ten days or so. I wish you were also here so that we may have a reunion of sorts.
She continued for two more pages describing the city with all its summer festivals dotting the landscape and wrote an entire page about the Harrison and its unique atmosphere. She ended with,
Please write soon and let me know if you might visit our fair city anytime soon during the time Hugh is expected to be here. I believe he is expected to stay through October.
Your faithful friend,
Madeline
She stayed another hour looking out the bay window onto the street. Now and then a couple walking hand in hand went by or a stray cat scampered by. She remembered the times she and Russell would stroll after midnight before the children were born. Sometimes now it seemed as if it never happened. She wished again for the intimacy of a relationship. She had once thought she would remain a widow for the rest of her life, but she had begun to rethink those thoughts.
Returning to her room, she nodded to the photograph of her family one more time before drifting into sleep.
Chapter Six
Investigation
The next few days she spent speaking to any person she could find that might have witnessed Maria's accident. The street vendor Uncle Hank had mentioned, Jacob, proved to have given her valuable information. He stated that he had noticed Maria immediately, that she stood out not only for her beauty, but for the frightened look that was upon her face. He said she moved through the street, almost in a frantic zigzag manner.
Madeline planned on returning to see Jacob that day and brought the pictures of the other missing girls with her.
Jacob was not hard to find; he had a booming voice and dressed as if he were a troubadour touring with a stage production. His handlebar mustache was trimmed to perfection, and his scarlet red vest and patchwork pants compelled one to look at him.
"Jacob," she called out, "Do you have a moment to talk?" asked Madeline.
"If you wait a few minutes, Miss—I'm almost sold out, and then I can speak to you."
He continued calling out, "Po-tay-toe—wa-ter-me-low" as his customers came up to him for their purchases.
She was close enough to the Harrison that she could observe the people lingering outside the hotel. She thought she saw Marilyn walk in, but there was a stream of people moving in and out of the ornate doors, and she couldn't be sure. She thought again of what Lady Mary had said about being certain she had not seen the girls. It seemed an impossible statement to make, one Madeline felt could be said only in defense of someone. There were too many people that frequented the establishment. People sometimes gathered outside just to look at the structure of the building, a masterpiece of architectural design.
Jacob pulled his cart back from the street and motioned for her to come toward him.
She handed him the pictures, as he wiped his brow with a bright red handkerchief.
"I can't say for certain. I wish I could tell you I saw them. This one," he said, pointing to Wanda. "I may have seen her. She has the unusual color of blond hair that is almost white and those fancy glasses. I may her seen her
walking about. That probably won't help you much, but now that I have seen them, I will make it a point to watch for them.
"One thing further I do remember. I'm glad you came 'round. The more I think about it, I think there may have been someone chasing her. Maybe it is just my imagination, but I recall now a man coming up behind her. He may have pushed her, I couldn't say. But it happened so fast—I couldn't tell you much more than it was a man. I tried to remember if he was tall or large, and I couldn't say for sure."
"Did you happen to see what direction he walked away?"
"No...to tell you the truth, after that, I had put my cart down, and went to see if I could be of any help to the poor girl."
"Do you think it possible that he may have interfered with the girl? I mean, could he have pushed her or in any way caused the accident to happen?" asked Madeline.
"I couldn't exactly say that. I'm not even certain of what I actually saw. I suppose he could have, but there were so many people in the street and carriages moving about, I think it would be hard to tell something like that. Of course, unless you were standing right beside them, but if that were the case, I suppose someone would have told the police."
"I suppose you are right, but it is not the type of accident that is common. Especially, if I may offer my opinion, women tend to be very careful around the street, much more so than men. I do hope it proves to be just an accident after all."
"Do you think it might be otherwise?" asked Jacob.
"There are too many unusual things going on in our quiet little neighborhood. Because of that, it makes me wonder if it might not be an accident at all, but perhaps done deliberately."
"I will keep an eye out. You can count on me," he said as he turned back to his cart.
She would pass the Harrison on her return home. She hoped she was right and that Marilyn and Nancy might be there as she walked by the doorman into the lobby.
There was some event going on, a local artist was displaying his paintings for purchase and was in the process of painting a young boy sitting on his mother's lap. It was the type of scene that brought smiles to the faces of the onlookers. A gathering of twenty or so people had formed a circle to watch him paint.
Madeline could not resist taking her place and observing him. Someday, she promised herself, she would return to her passion of painting watercolors and oils, but she still did not feel she was in the state of mind to produce anything of beauty. The artist was shamefully young and did not appear to be more than seventeen or eighteen years of age. But, she surmised, he must have studied abroad because he was masterful at what he was doing. Immersed in watching his long, beautiful brushstrokes and the way he was capturing the light around the boy's face, she did not immediately respond to the tug on her arm. The next time, it was more forceful, and she turned to see Lady Mary peering at her as if she were an interloper in the old woman's living quarters.
"You're here again. Why? I hope you have a good reason, and you're not just trying to mind everyone else's business."
Madeline was about to speak when Marilyn appeared between them and grabbed her hand in welcome.
"I was hoping to see you today. I thought perhaps Vincenzo's art display might bring you here. Many on my street have come to watch him at work."
"Lady Mary, this is my friend, Marilyn. I am here to have lunch with her, so please set your mind at rest as to any devious plot on my part," Madeline said as she laughed, trying to put Lady Mary at ease in the hopes she would not continue her hound-dog pursuit of watching her every move.
"How do you do? I've seen you here. I'm sure you're a good girl, so studious. I'll leave you both to be," Mary said as she walked away.
"What was all that about?" asked Marilyn.
"I have much to tell you. I see Nancy seated in your favorite spot. May I join you for a cup of tea?"
"Oh...please. We are anxious to hear any news about your investigation."
She took her seat among the two girls, grateful for a familiar face and to share their company.
"Tell me about that old woman. She has such a sweet appearance, like a cuddly little lamb. I've often seen her here, but the way she spoke to you startled me. What brought on her hostility towards you?" asked Marilyn.
"I've been here many times trying to speak with the elusive Harrison brothers. They are never here, or if they are, it is unlikely anyone would allow me in to speak with them, but I keep trying. I thought that perhaps if I became an annoyance, they might agree, just to be rid of me. Lady Mary has a personal connection of some kind with them. I presume she feels I am in some way a threat. She has overheard me speaking with the concierge and inquiring about the missing girls. She is a permanent resident, and claims she is a fixture around here and knows everything," said Madeline.
"I can certainly attest to the fact that I have seen her here many times," said Nancy.
"Has she ever spoken to you?" asked Madeline.
"No, not that I recall. I've seen her just wandering about, sometimes taking tea at the outside courtyard with an elderly gentleman," continued Nancy.
"Tell us about your other news. Have you had any progress in finding your Maria?" asked Marilyn.
"Yes, unfortunately. It was not a good outcome—she is deceased. She was trampled by a carriage not far from here. My Uncle Hank was coming home from work and was one of the first people on the scene. He recognized her from the photograph we had of her. As you can imagine, the family is inconsolable."
"But at least she did not meet with foul play, there must be some comfort in that," said Nancy.
"Actually, I'm not at all certain that the death was accidental. I spoke with Jacob, one of the street vendors, and he observed the entire event and had the impression she was being followed," said Madeline.
She did not tell them about the marks on Maria's wrists, or that she thought it was Lady Mary who had been pursuing her. She believed the family would not want her to reveal certain personal facts.
"It is disturbing. There is an unease in the air. I hear people sometimes whispering about the missing girls," said Marilyn.
"There is a request I have to make. I don't know whether you will be able to fulfill it, but I was present at the coroner's and viewed Maria's body. There seemed to be a light spray of white powder on one of her sleeves and near her collar. I know Louie has preserved everything, in the hopes there might be some hidden evidence. I was wondering if I brought you the dress, would you be able to analyze the powder in your lab at school?" asked Madeline.
"I don't know really. I've never done anything like that, but what a challenge. I certainly will try."
"I'll come with you. We can use the lab after hours," said Nancy.
"Then I will call you when I secure the clothing. Perhaps we can meet back here at The Harrison," said Madeline.
They continued their visit for a little while longer, with the twins saying there was an unusual amount of young girls who came in groups to the hotel. They were sometimes whisked off to another area. Both girls considered it peculiar. When she left them, she felt grateful for their assistance and their observations. This new information would be added to her notes. She would be glad when Hugh arrived, and she had someone to speak to about the Harrison and its curious activities.
When she arrived home, the aroma of baking apples and cinnamon lingered in the air. She knew Mrs. O'Malley must have baked her father's favorite apple pie. It was good to be home.
Mrs. O'Malley walked through the swinging kitchen door into the dining area and said, "Your father is expected shortly, Miss, and you have a special-delivery letter waiting for you."
"Thank you, Mrs. O'Malley and thank you for baking Father's favorite pie. It smells wonderful."
"If ever a man deserved it, it's your father. He's a saint of a man, that one."
"You won't get an argument from me on that, but you are too. The way you take care of us is nothing short of saintly."
Mrs. O'Malley smiled a broad, sheepish grin as her shoulder
s moved back in pride. "Now..."
"Don't even try to deny it. You know there's no one quite like you."
Madeline sometimes was remiss in appreciating the treasured Mrs. O'Malley and decided she would be more forthcoming with praise for her. These disappearances had made her think of her family and friends and how important they were to her.
She went back to the main room to the table stand where Mrs. O'Malley left the incoming post. There she found Hugh Scott's ship-to-shore telegram awaiting her.
June 27, 1889
Madeline,
I was delighted to receive your letter. It arrived right before I left to embark on my journey to America. I would be happy to accept your invitation to stay for a few days until I am able to secure lodging, for I would not like to impose for too long a time.
The seas have been rough and I have been forced to stay in my cabin with a serious case of sea sickness, but Phillip tells me tomorrow should bring calmer seas. I hope so, I do not wish to arrive looking like a bedraggled dog, for that is what I feel like now.
I am anxious to hear of your adventures on Erie Street and look forward to seeing you and your father. Please give him my regards.
The ship is due to arrive in port on or about June 29th.
Your friend,
Hugh
Today was the 28th of June; the weather had cooled just enough that the breeze blowing through the open window made the rooms comfortable. Hugh would be here when the weather should prove to be enjoyable, and would stay until the advent of autumn and its cornucopia of changing leaves. Her excitement after reading the news that he would be there in just one day was evident as she ran to tell Mrs. O'Malley.
"Mrs. O'Malley, he will be here tomorrow. Imagine that, after so many months I will see my friend again. Through the darkness, there is a wondrous light that gives us such reason to live. May we have something special for dinner?"