by Madison Kent
The door was locked, so she took her assortment of tools and manipulated the door until it opened. She had become adept at picking locks, realizing she was able to gain entrance if a door was not secured further with some type of bolt. She walked for just a short distance when she thought she heard voices. She turned to go down another hall to follow the direction of those voices. She listened closely. She could hear the chatter of female voices, and what she believed was a male voice. She stood deadly still, her heart beating with excitement. Behind that door might be one of the missing girls. She stood listening for almost an hour until she finally heard the man say he would return later to wish them good-night.
She moved the wooden bar from the door to release it and opened the door with great anticipation.
There inside were the faces of three girls who looked at her as if she had come from another world.
She put her finger to mouth, indicating to them to please be quiet.
"Who are you and what are you doing here?" asked one of the girls in a whispered voice.
"I hope I've come to save your life," she said holding on to the girls hand. "You're Felicia Zugaj, aren't you?"
The girl's face showed the perplexed look Madeline had expected. The other girls huddled together around her.
"Yes, I am, but how could you know that? What is this all about, and how did you get through this door?" asked Felicia.
"We must be quick. I will have to explain most of this later, but I believe you are all in great danger. I must get you out of here, and before anyone is aware of it."
"What do you mean? We are not in danger at all. We are happy and treated well. Yes, we are in a way captives, but by choice. Our month is almost up. We will be paid handsomely for it," said another girl.
"We all sent word to our families through Wanda Gapinski, a friend of mine, that we were safe and would return within the month," said Felicia.
Madeline shook her head and said, "Wanda Gapinski is dead. She was found floating in the Chicago River. There is no evidence that it was murder, but it is suspected. And the three of you, your pictures are on the pages of every newspaper as missing persons," said Madeline.
"I believe there are other girls here. Sometimes I thought I heard them coming from another room," said Felicia, now with a look of fright on her face.
"I'm sure they are also in danger," said Madeline. "There are many girls who have gone missing. We believe one of the brothers of the Harrison Hotel may be responsible. That's where you are right now―in the cellar of the hotel."
"We never knew where we are. As you can see, we have lived in luxury and wanted for nothing. You cannot mean the sweet man who comes to talk to us is responsible for harming Wanda?" asked Felicia.
"I don't know, but I wouldn't want to confront him in the case that he, or one of his brothers, might mean you harm," said Madeline.
"Oh no―he is returning. I hear his footsteps. He wasn't due to come back for another hour," said one of the girls.
"He cannot find me here. I will come back for you, but not alone. I will bring the authorities. Until then, do not let on that anything has changed. Your very lives may depend on it," said Madeline as she slipped through the door and placed the plank of wood back to secure it.
She thought it would be unwise to confront whoever it was, even knowing there were four of them to mount a defense. But the unknown factor of not knowing how many people might be involved made her believe this was the safest route to take. She had a knife in her boot, and had brought a derringer that had once belonged to her mother, but wanted to avoid using either if it was at all possible. She would return and bring the police with her.
She felt relief when she saw the antiques and knew she was within a short distance of the exit that would bring her safely back to her room and the authorities. But then, something gripped her heart, and she began to quiver. There―against the wall―alongside one of the statues, was a walking stick. Not just any walking stick, but one with a horn as the handle, the shape of the figure on Jonathan's back. She was certain it had not been there when she entered the area, as the statue was one of the markings she had used to find her way back. It stood right outside the hall she had entered.
The murderer was there, and looking for her. She pulled her gun from her satchel and steadied herself.
She moved in silent steps, looking around her, walking closely to the antique furniture so that it would give her some coverage. She heard the feet of the rodents again, as she looked around to watch for any movement. She knew she was within a few yards of the door to the staircase, and continued walking toward it. Her feet felt numb as she walked as if they had betrayed her and could barely move. She tried to shake off her fear, telling herself the weapon in her hand would protect her. She reached the door, and for a moment, panic set in―the door had been bolted with a rusted lock.
Her way out was gone. Whoever was there had her trapped and knew it. They were playing with her, perhaps watching her right now.
She would now have to keep her wits about her. There had to be another way out; the area she was in was expansive. She thought about going back to the door into the room the girls were in. The person might be watching, but she had to at least try.
She did not dare to turn on her torch light and walked slowly back to where the girls were. When she was in sight of the door, the fruit and various items had been removed and the door now had a similar bolt attached to it.
She returned into the darkness, now traveling down a different corridor. She looked for an adequate place to hide, believing if she had her back to the wall, she would have an advantage. She placed herself between two stacks of boxes and thought it would give her some protection. For the moment, she would wait, and listen.
She had a pocket watch and two pieces of fruit with her. She had thought she might walk to the park later, so she included the snack in her satchel.
Almost an hour had passed, and except for the rats, there was only disconcerting silence. She had hoped the perpetrator would confront her while she had her back against the wall and her gun in her hand. Now she stopped to take a few bites of her pear just to provide herself with some liquid on her tongue.
She knew she would have to leave that place and continue her search for an exit. She prayed the girls were safe.
She moved along the wall to another corridor, and seeing a door, acted quickly to see if it might allow her out of that dungeon. It was open but was just a closet filled with rags and miscellaneous garbage. She now saw two more doors, but they were both secured. She had her lock-picking tools with her but hesitated to turn her back and put herself in a vulnerable position of not seeing if anyone was coming toward her.
It was still quiet, so she began maneuvering the pick in the lock. She somehow felt like a bird in a cage, and that the murderer was just toying with her and would appear at any second. She finally opened the first door. It also was a storage area, but filled with lovely clothes. It had a scent of cologne and looked as if it had recently been cleaned. She tried the second door, and when she opened it―there was what she had always dreaded.
There lay the skeletal remains of two bodies.
She bit her lip so hard to stop from screaming that she could feel the trickle of blood rolling down her chin. She wiped it away with her white glove and saw the crimson color stain it. Seeing the red slashed across the white, she imagined the fate of the two people who now were locked in a closet, without even a decent burial. She wondered if they had suffered, and if the killer had tortured or defiled them.
She closed the door, walking away with a new determination to try to escape the dungeon and the craven person who did that deed. Then she heard the laughing―a cruel laugh, the kind one remembers in their sleep and wakes them screaming. She froze, standing behind one of the large statues. Then she heard a thump of a walking stick hitting the floor, the footsteps that accompanied them so quiet, that the stick hitting the floor became louder and louder in her ear.
/> "Madeline, how clever of you to have found me out," said a gruff, low voice.
She did not recognize the voice. She stood without movement, trying to ascertain how close he was to her.
"You see, you have discovered things that will prove of no use to you, for you will not live beyond this day. But perhaps I will spare you if you will come out and speak to me."
She knew his words were false, and that he wanted her to show herself. She still had some advantage; he didn't know exactly where she was. If he walked within visual range, she might be able to fire at him. He did not know she had a gun, and she hoped she would get the opportunity to use it against him.
He was wrong―she was not so clever after all, for she thought it would be Patrick speaking to her. She had long thought that he might have the most compelling motive and insecurities to perpetrate such a crime. She knew he resented his place in the family, not only because of his being adopted but because of him sorely lacking in the looks the other brother's had. But now that she heard him speak again, she knew who it was.
"If only you would have waited a few more days, my sweetheart and I would have been gone to Paris. I have already booked our passage; the thing was nearly done. I have enough money now to care for the both of us.
A few more days...and you would not have been in any danger. It is a pity―for I rather liked you."
She heard a shot ring out, and he said, "You see, no one will come for you. No one can hear anything from the cellar. I have moved the girls to another location. I had planned on leaving them alone, but now you have ruined that and will have their deaths on your head for your interference."
He was getting closer to her, and she thought it was her best opportunity to fire at him. He was moving cautiously, darting behind chairs and other objects, so she did not have a clean shot, but she knew she must do something as she might not get another chance.
As he moved alongside a large stack of boxes, his foot bumped something, and he temporarily lost his bearings. She jumped out from behind the statue and fired.
She grazed him in the shoulder, forcing him to drop his weapon. He now stood with his hand to his shoulder saying, "Let me go, Madeline, and I swear no harm will come to you or your father."
She was startled by his speaking of her father and the thought that he might harm him enraged her even further, "Why, Alfred, why? Why did you do those horrible things? Was it really just for the money?"
"Please...of course not. I fully intended to set the blame on my Father and my uncles. That was perhaps the sweetest part of it. I was certain after I left that one of them would see the noose."
"So you knew all along of your parentage. I don't think Lady Mary knew."
"You mean my grandmother. I knew. I've known for almost a year, I heard her speaking to Willie about it, but I always suspected. That is why I gave her the money I received from selling the skeletons, to make sure she had something to tide her over when I'm in Europe."
He made a sudden move, and she yelled out, "Be still or I will not hesitate to shoot you. I have killed another madman like you, and I should not regret doing it again."
"Why, Mrs. Donovan...I think I believe you."
Then without her seeing in the darkness, he threw his walking stick at her. She tried to block the stick and automatically fired her weapon, but did not hit her target. Before she was able to recover, Alfred had retrieved his weapon. He was unsteady due to his wound but fired at her from behind one of the wooden shelves he hid behind.
She thought her only chance now was to run and run she did. She went down one hall, and then another with Alfred calling out to her, almost singing out her name and laughing. She continued checking each door that she saw. He was moving almost as quickly as she was only slowed slightly by his wound. Finally, she came to a door that opened, and she prayed it was not another storage area. It wasn't. Behind the door were glorious stairs―stairs to her freedom. She ran up with Alfred following right behind her.
When she reached the exit door, she found she was in the basement floor with the vats of lye, almost now as terrifying to her as Alfred, for they represented what he had done. She remembered where the exit door to the second floor was and started for it, yelling now for help, hoping someone might hear her.
She was almost at the door when the heel of her boot became snagged against a potted hole in the floor. With the speed she had been running, it caused her to lose her balance and fall backward, dropping her weapon as she did.
When she looked up, Alfred stood over her, a maniacal look upon his face of joy.
"I knew it was not possible that someone such as you could have outdone me," he said.
With that, he pulled off her wig and threw it into one of the vats. "Did you really think you had me fooled with that ridiculous costume? I was following you all along after I saw you in the lobby. Now, you will see what it feels like to be one of my victims! And, I will get a pretty penny for your skeleton."
He had a hold of her hair now in both hands, dragging her up the steps to the landing, and to the top of a lye barrel. The blood from his wound dripped down against his shirt and then onto Madeline. She could feel his blood running down her face, the pain from her being dragged by her hair excruciating, as she fought to get free. She knew her only chance to defend herself would be once they reached the landing at the top of the stairs.
He was pulling her with his back toward her. She pulled her leg up and reached inside her boot for the knife she had placed there. She knew she would only have one chance.
When he pulled her onto the platform, he continued to push her towards a barrel. When he turned, she stuck the knife into his leg, which was the closest part of his body to her. He yelled out, and she pushed him over, his hand now falling over into the barrel of lye. He shrieked with pain, his skin erupting from the toxic substance.
She ran down the stairs and out to the exit, up the stairs, screaming for help. She arrived on the second floor still calling out, blood-stained and weak.
She began to lose consciousness, but then she saw the face of her friend. "Jonathan, quick, it's Alfred. He tried to kill me. Get him. He is in the basement. He has a gun―be careful."
By now, many residents had come out of their rooms and rushed to help her while Jonathan left running to the basement. Then blissfully, everything went black.
Chapter Twenty-One
Until We Meet Again
When she awoke, she was in her room at the hotel. Her father was holding her hand and wiping her forehead with his handkerchief.
"Madeline, this seems all too familiar. My goodness child, you have given me a fright."
"I'm sorry, Father, but it had to be done. Besides, this time I am not injured, frightened to death, but not injured."
"I left word for Hugh. He informed Mrs. O'Malley that he would be in Oak Park at the site of his home. I have sent a messenger to tell him what has happened. As you know, Jonathan is at the police station with Alfred. I'm sure he will be there a while, not only because he was with Alfred and will have to give the details to the police because he will have quite a story to prepare.
I have brought you something to calm you. No, it is not opium. I will give you an injection of morphine. This drug will calm you and is believed to have great medicinal benefits."
"Thank you, Father. We will have much to talk about. Did the girls get set free?"
"What girls?" asked her father.
She went on to explain about Felicia and the other two young girls. Father said he would go downstairs and bring one of the police officers up to speak with her. He said the lobby was filled with policemen.
When the officers arrived, they took her statement. They would enlist the Harrison brothers to search the cellar area and aid the women who remained there.
"I can rest now, Father, knowing they are safe. I think I would like to go home now, and get away from this place."
She still felt weak. Mrs. O'Malley brought her out a blanket, a glass of wine,
and her mystery novel. She lay on the divan near the window seat and tried to relax.
"Father, I would like to have everyone involved to come to dinner tomorrow so that we may tell them what happened. I know Louie and Rosa will want to know, as well as the Gapinski family, and, of course, Marilyn and Nancy."
"Mrs. O'Malley...," said the doctor.
"I heard, Dr. Donovan, we shall have an event tomorrow. I'll go to the market first thing in the morning."
"Will you be all right alone? I have an emergency I have to attend to. One of the children down the street, I believe, has broken their leg," said father.
"Yes, Father, I will be fine. I am still somewhat in shock from what happened, but so very happy no other girl will fall victim to Alfred. Besides, you have notified Hugh, and I am sure he will be here soon."
She lay there alone, trying to read her book, but the effects of the morphine and the wine had taken hold of her, and she drifted into sleep.
She awoke some time later to the knock on her door, and her friend, Hugh, calling to her.
"I came as soon as I heard. Are you all right? Have you been harmed?" he asked with a frantic tone in his voice.
His concern soothed her. Taking his hand, she said, "I am better than I have been in a long time―the murderer was apprehended. Hugh, it was Alfred. Alfred, the attractive, smart, young man who had everything in the world going for him. Alfred...I thought perhaps he was involved in some way, but I had believed one of the brothers committed the crimes."
"Dear Lord―Alfred! I, too, cannot imagine that it is him. Now, if you feel you are up to it, tell me everything."
She told him some of what happened but stated that after she had a full night's rest, she would explain everything at dinner the next day. Whatever she didn't know, she knew Jonathan would have gathered more information about the crimes through his interviews.