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

by Madison Kent

  "Lower you voice," said Joseph. "Enjoy yourself, dance with one of these fine ladies," said Joseph.

  "The ladies, yes, they follow me around everywhere. I have to pay for my friendships. You and Christopher have always had it easy, but not me," said Patrick.

  "Then I will dance. Try not to get into any more trouble. You know Christopher is already angry with you," said Joseph.

  They moved slightly away from her, but Jonathan remained near them.

  "I can't hear what they are saying anymore," said Madeline.

  "We can't very well keep nudging down the bar to hear them. I think it best to leave it to Jonathan," said Hugh.

  They returned to their table where they could view Phillip standing near to Christopher. Phillip had engaged a lovely young woman in conversation.

  "Jonathan is returning," said Hugh.

  "I know this might be crazy, but they're leaving, and I think I'd like to follow them. I don't know what their conversation was about, but I'd like to see where they are going," said Jonathan.

  "Are you sure, old man, you will be leaving a lovely dinner?" said Hugh.

  "It's my nature. It's what I do. I do feel there is a story here. I'll come by your house after I see if I can find out anything."

  With that he smiled, grabbed a piece of bread from the table, had a sip of wine and left.

  Madeline could see Patrick and Joseph waiting at the hat check area, and now Christopher was walking across the room as well.

  "Well, this is not at all how I thought this evening would go," said Madeline.

  "Jonathan―he is quite the man. I envy his spirit. I wish I could be more like him sometimes," said Hugh.

  "You are both different, but each of you has your own specific strengths. You are steady on and grounded―those are admirable characteristics."

  "Phillip has left his young lady and is on his way back to us."

  "I saw Jonathan leave, and Christopher soon followed. I confess I wanted to stay and continue talking to the young woman, Sara, but that is not to be today," said Phillip.

  "We may as well continue with our dinner, albeit without Jonathan. Phillip, you can tell us what you have found out," said Hugh.

  "Not much, I am afraid. He spoke very little, just telling the woman next to him how beautiful she was. He said he had a collection of butterflies, and that she reminded him of their graceful beauty. It was something an older man might say. I don't think she was responsive to what he was saying, and she seemed uncomfortable. He continued to flatter her and asked her to dance, but she declined. He seemed put off by it but still asked her to join him for dinner. She declined that also, and he now seemed agitated, clenching his fist and hitting it upon the bar. But then he looked up and said, "My brothers, they will be the death of me...". That's when he left to follow his brothers. He obviously saw that they were leaving."

  Madeline said, "I think you did discover something of note. For one thing, it confirms my thoughts that perhaps one or more of the brothers have unusual relationships with women. By what we know so far, they are all bachelors, despite their aristocratic upbringing and their wealth. From what you heard, Phillip, it sounds like the conversation of someone who does not know how to interact with women. I know older men sometimes have a preference for younger women, but his comments were strange."

  "What he said about collecting butterflies and then commenting on her resemblance. It is if he may covet beautiful things and wants them in his possession," said Hugh.

  "I had hoped to dance perhaps with all of you, and maybe even go on to another club. However, since Jonathan has disappeared, I think we might go back to the house to wait for him."

  "I agree. He has taken on a lot for someone who just arrived in a new place, with no bearings of where he is or what he might face. I wish I had gone with him," said Hugh.

  "Jonathan is capable, and we probably worry for no reason, but since we are in agreement, we may as well return to the house," said Madeline.

  Her father was awake and in the dining area sipping his coffee and smoking a cigar, his one and only vice that he partook of sometimes after a long week.

  "But where is Jonathan?" Father asked with a concerned look on his face.

  "Father, it is a strange tale indeed that we have to tell, but we hope that he will arrive soon."

  "I will get us some of that lovely cherry pie Mrs. O'Malley left for us. I do believe we also have a bottle of champagne father bought for just such an occasion," said Madeline.

  While she was in the kitchen gathering the refreshments, she heard Hugh and Phillip tell her father all that had happened. She could almost see him from the kitchen shaking his head.

  "I am not surprised that Jonathan threw himself into the chase. He struck me as that from the first when I met him in London―the bold type. I don't suppose anything could happen by just following behind a couple of middle-aged, stuffy men," commented father.

  "I wish I could say I agree with you, Father, but after all the odd things that have happened, I don't know. I hope you are right, and they are nothing more than eccentric men with too much money for their own good," said Madeline.

  They were conversing about the fine supper they had at the Austin and reminiscing about London when her father said, "It's almost midnight, and I'm an old man. I would like to remain to see Jonathan, but I am afraid I can't keep my eyes open."

  Phillip stood and said, "I thought I heard something. It was something―like a moan of sorts. Listen."

  "Yes, I hear it too," said Hugh as he opened the front door, and he and Phillip made their way outside.

  Then Madeline heard Hugh cry out, "Madeline, please bring your father."

  Her father heard Hugh and ran out, followed by Madeline.

  Just two doors down, lying against one of their neighbor's bottom stair was Jonathan with a wound on his forehead and a trickle of blood running down his cheek. He was holding his stomach and seemed dazed.

  "It's all right," Jonathan said. "I probably look worse than it is. I almost made it to your doorstep. In my confusion, I gave the cabbie the wrong street number. I think I was a bit disoriented, so I walked the rest of the way, but I was only off by a few blocks. I'll be all right if you will give me a hand up."

  "Come, let's take a look at that forehead," said Dr. Donovan.

  Hugh and Phillip helped Jonathan inside and onto the living room divan. The doctor grabbed his medical bag and began treating the cut on Jonathan's forehead.

  He moved slightly and let out a low moan.

  "It is my back that I wish you would look at."

  The physician gingerly removed Jonathan's shirt; Madeline thought perhaps she should leave, but then decided not to. After all, she had assisted her father in treating many male patients who had removed more than just a shirt.

  Across Jonathan's back was a long, raised red mark, appearing as if a rod had been struck across it. The swollen skin had a three-inch section that was openly pierced and bleeding.

  "There is a small section that will require a few stitches. Madeline, will you assist me?"

  While Madeline and her father set about the business of treating Jonathan, Hugh asked, "What happened? Did one of those brothers attack you?"

  "To tell you the truth, I am not sure what happened. I followed the brothers as they began walking down the street, not paying any attention to their surroundings. I easily followed behind them without their observance. They were speaking about whether they would return to the Harrison or continue their night out by going to another hotel. They said something about an art fair going on somewhere.

  They stopped to hail a cabbie. I moved a little closer to them to try to hear the address they gave. I was still keeping my distance, trying to remain in the shadows, when I felt a sharp stinging across my back. I fell over onto the steps of the home I was standing near and hit my head on the edge of the staircase step. I began to lose consciousness, but I remember someone trying to go through my suit coat. I yelled out, and I he
ard someone open the door to the house. The person ran off I suppose. I wasn't able to see their face. The resident of the building came out and helped me inside their home. I was not functioning very well for the next hour or so. They tried to send me to a hospital, but I didn't believe my injuries warranted that. Now you know all that I know."

  "Do you think it was an attempt to rob you?" asked Phillip.

  "I suppose that is as good as any other assumption. In this business, I often find myself in compromising situations, and I've had my garments all tailored with an additional pocket under the silk lining of my coats. It is not easily accessible and certainly can't be detected with the quick search the assailant did. I know he reached into my coat pocket that was visible, but there was nothing there," said Jonathan.

  "Do you want to spend the night with us? You may have my room," said her father.

  "Thank you, but no. I am even more curious to get back to the Harrison. It was luck that I have a room there and might be able to observe them or better yet―gain their trust and have a conversation with them."

  "May I come back with you?" asked Madeline.

  "At this hour, Madeline, what are you thinking?" asked father.

  "I'm thinking what better time when it's late, and they would not expect us to be around the halls. The Harrison's don't know one of our own has a room there. I would like to see the second floor. No one can gain access to it without a room key. It's after midnight. I think it couldn't be a better time to see who might be lurking around the hotel at this hour."

  "I think it's a grand idea," said Hugh.

  "Don't think I'm not coming with you," said Phillip.

  "In that case, I suppose there is safety in numbers. For someone who was a timid child, you have turned out to be a little bolder than I would wish," he said as he hugged Madeline.

  "Do not worry, Father, I'm sure we won't be later than two or so."

  Chapter Eleven

  The Third Floor

  There were still a few people mingling in the lobby of the Harrison, and some just checking in, but it was the quietest Madeline had seen the hotel.

  There was a man who checked their room key before letting them into the hotel elevator that was designated only for guests.

  "It is a rather nice suite. The accommodations are as fine as anything I have seen in New York," said Jonathan.

  The main room was open and roomy, with the additional luxury of a fireplace. There was a small table for dining, on it placed biscuits, fruit and a bottle of wine. Fine paintings decorated the walls, along with plush furniture with the Eaton trademark.

  "It is without equal," said Madeline. "It seems strange that there is an underlying current of something wicked going on within such beautiful surroundings."

  Jonathan was visibly struggling, and Hugh commented.

  "Perhaps you should stay here, Jonathan. I think you would be more comfortable lying in those silken sheets in your bed than prowling the halls."

  "Yes. As much as I would like to accompany you, I believe I cannot. I will leave the door unlatched so that you may come and go as you please. I'm sure I will not sleep and will leave the door open to the bedroom suite."

  "It is similar to the third floor―the hallways wind and appear to have not been constructed like any hotel I have ever seen. Shall we meet back here in one hour?" asked Madeline.

  "Yes, that should be sufficient time. I will take the area of rooms numbered 1A to 50A," said Phillip.

  "All right, I will then take the B group and Hugh may have the letter C," said Madeline.

  Madeline watched her friends quietly slip away down the adjacent corridors. There was no activity to speak of, she heard a few muffled voices and someone softly playing the violin. She passed only two people, a young couple holding hands, paying no attention to her at all. She felt safe, for the moment. Still, she had taken a small knife with her, hidden inside her boot, as she once had when walking the streets of Whitechapel.

  The late edition of the Tribune lay outside the door of what she presumed were guests of the hotel. Whenever she passed a room that did not have a paper lying beside its door, she twisted the doorknob in the hopes she might find an unlocked room. She continued until she came to a door that had no number, only the letter B. It was locked. She attempted using a hairpin to unlock the door. She had told this was feasible, but as she jiggled the pin in the hole, she did not feel the lock give way. She was kneeling on the floor, peering through the keyhole to see if anything was visible, but the hallway area was too dark for her to see anything clearly. She dropped her hairpin. There on the floor, just barely visible to the eye was a skeleton key, sticking out from under the threshold of the door. Using her knife to guide it out, she pressed the key into her hand as if it were golden.

  Holding her breath, she turned the key in the lock. As it opened, her heart raced, and she could feel her palms instantly begin to sweat.

  Inside was a narrow staircase, not more than three feet across. There was dust on the stairs, and cobwebs dotted the entire length leaving her to believe that the hotel staff did not use this area.

  Tip-toeing up the stairs as quickly as she could in the dark, she reached the exit door. There was a small landing area, where scraps of paper accumulated on the floor. She could not see what, if anything, was written on them, but placed them in her satchel. When she bent to pick the papers up, she saw droplets of red. They were stained into the floor, and she wondered if they might be blood. However, she dismissed this idea as she felt that if it had been the result of malice, someone certainly would have cleaned the area.

  She opened the door as slowly as she could to avoid any sound. She was back on the third floor where she had interviewed the Harrison brothers.

  She had no bearing on where she might be, although there were kerosene lamps to light the hallways. Some of the doors had markings, and some did not. She turned several doorknobs and realized they were not locked. She assumed that because this was the private area of the hotel, they believed there was no need to lock the doors. As she did not see light coming from under the doors, she thought they might be safe to open.

  Room HJB had only the light coming from the moon directly shining through its panoramic windows. It made the room come alive with an eerie, yet beautiful glow. She assumed this was Joseph's room for in it was an intricately designed collection of every type of butterfly displayed in ornate glass cases upon the walls and some placed in glass boxes on marble pedestals. Every detail in the room appeared like a museum. The butterflies displayed in such an elaborate matter that one would think they were as valuable as a famous work of art. She thought that she would love to have seen this room in the daylight and marveled at every bit of the extraordinary display.

  Emerging from the room, she went down a different hallway, being careful to remember how to find her way back to the stairwell that led back to the second floor. She then found a series of three doors set so close together she could not imagine what could be behind them. When she opened the middle door, she clapped her hand over her mouth to stop the scream that was about to be let out. A figure was staring at her, within inches of her face...it was her. It was nothing more than a full-length mirror behind the door. She looked for evidence that the mirror was on a panel or something that could be slid back and reveal another area, but there was none. The other two doors had nothing behind them but brick. She felt this was the kind of thing one saw at a replication of a haunted house or some such foolery, it made no sense to her.

  Moving down another hallway, she entered the next room. It was yet another collection of objects, but this had none of the surreal beauty of the other room. HCW, as the room letters read, was a collection of weaponry. It was chock-full with guns, of every shape and size, but there were also knives, including Indian tomahawks, mounted against the wall. An entire wall decorated with swords, also displayed the English coat of arms for the Harrison Heritage. It was majestic in a way; she thought, and probably would have been more appr
eciated by one of her male friends. She heard the sound of a chime and looked up to see a clock on the small desk in the corner had struck one. They had agreed to return in one hour, so she made her way back to the second floor anxious to tell of what she had discovered. She did not replace the key but kept it with her.

  She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw Jonathan's room. Entering, she saw Jonathan had returned to the main area. A glass of bourbon in his hand, he sat making notes in a leather journal.

  He looked up and said, "You are the first to return. Come sit by me, and tell me what you have learned."

  "I think I will have the strangest tale to tell. I can't imagine Hugh or Phillip having discovered anything like what I did."

  Jonathan grimaced a bit as he sat up straighter in his chair. "That's quite a statement. Go on."

  She went on to tell him about stumbling onto the hidden stairwell and finding herself on the third floor.

  "After seeing the butterfly collection, I went on to open another door a short distance away. This time, I almost let out a scream as I saw someone behind the door until I realized it was me. It was a full-length mirror behind the door and nothing else. I searched for a latch to see if there was something behind the mirror, but could not find one. However, I did not have sufficient time to deliberate there and then found a weapons collection."

  "That is incredible, and what was that you said about the markings on the door. Their meaning, I feel, is easily understood, the HJB. I think it indicates Harrison, Joseph, and B for the butterfly collection―it identifies their rooms."

  "Yes, that sounds reasonable. The mirror...another sign of how eccentric the brothers are. What does that mean exactly...eccentric enough to..."

  "My thoughts exactly...eccentric enough to commit murder. It would be preposterous. They have everything...everything they need or want, including prestige and power. It would make no sense."