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

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.

“Madeline,” Father said, “we will be dining a little earlier, at six. I am pleased you are ready as I would like to speak to you in my study.”

The study was a third bedroom her father had converted into a quaint little room with hard-covered books on the shelves against the wall, two leather sitting chairs, a few miscellaneous writing instruments, and a pile of paperwork.

“A patient of mine, Mrs. Rosa Silvestri, came to my office this very day in hysterics, requesting medicine to calm her. Her sister arrived from New York a few weeks ago, for an extended visit, and she is now missing. The police have done nothing about it, as she is of age, I believe—twenty-five. They think she just decided to leave of her own free will and explore the city. But Mrs. Silvestri says that would be impossible, that her sister would never leave in such a manner, that their relationship is close, with no problems. She also said her sister was on the adventurous side, but it wouldn’t be like her to have just departed on her own, besides, all of her belongings remain at their home.”

“Father, what a remarkable story. But what is the reason she is coming here?”

“I invited her because of you, Madeline. This is your chance to get started. You may not yet have a storefront, but you now have a customer.”

“You are wonderful. I thought you did not approve of this endeavor. You would be the last person I would have thought would encourage me in this.”

“No one is helping her, and she needs someone she can trust, not some charlatan who will fleece her, and end up just spending his time at the local drinking establishment.”

“Do you know the sister’s name?”

“She told me, but I don’t remember it. She should be here any moment. She might bring her brother with her or her husband. I gave her pills to calm her; so hopefully, she will be able to be questioned without crying or having too much anxiety.”

Madeline was intrigued—not only had her father initiated a meeting that involved her possibly employing her sleuthing activities, but there was also this mysterious disappearance. Of course, there was always crime in any big city, and Chicago was no exception, but she had never involved herself before in this capacity.

She was busy arranging the flowered centerpiece when Rosa Silvestri and another man arrived.

“Please come in. My father has explained why you are here. I am Madeline, Madeline Donovan.”

“I am sorry if I do not behave properly. I am quite distraught over the disappearance of my sister, Maria. This is my brother, Louie Falco. I don’t mean to impose, but I don’t think I can get through this without him.”

“Of course, it is no imposition. Father had already planned for an additional guest. We will be having simple fare for dinner. I hope you do not mind.”

“I will probably eat very little, thank you just the same,” said Rosa.

Of Italian descent, Rosa was slightly shorter than her, and Madeline believed her client might be five-foot-one or so. Louie was somewhat taller, perhaps by two inches, but still shorter than most of her male acquaintances. He was, however, dauntingly handsome, with raven, curly black hair, black eyes, olive skin, and dressed fashionably in a bowler hat, dark gray dinner jacket, waistcoat and trousers, all accented with an ascot tie. Rosa was also quite becoming, with lighter, chestnut-brown hair, and wearing a royal-blue, simple day dress.

“Your father has given us the hope that you might be interested in helping us find our sister. The police have disregarded our concerns and believe she is in the city sight-seeing, or that perhaps she has found a male partner to spend her time with. This is all nonsense, of course, but they showed us their crime journal. The officer continued, saying every day the amount of
real
crimes that come across their desk is overwhelming and suggesting that we just wait a few more days and that we would probably hear from her by then. I can tell you I am in a state; my sister is gregarious, likes to flirt, and enjoys her freedom, but not to the extent that we would not have heard from her…impossible,” said Louie.

Rosa looked as if she were about to faint, just hearing Louie speaking about Maria.

“Rosa, may I get you a glass of wine?” asked Madeline.

“Yes, that would be very nice, thank you,” Rosa replied.

Madeline's father entered the room and took Rosa’s hands, “My dear, I hope you are feeling better. Who is this you have brought with you?”

“This is my brother, Dr. Donovan, Louie—Louie Falco.”

“How do you do, sir…welcome to my home. Please, let us go in for dinner. I believe our cook is ready to serve. We are just waiting on one of our tenants, Mr. Henry Dabrowski,” said the doctor.

Madeline thought her father was a most distinguished gentleman. His fine, grayish-white hair was as straight as a line; but was puffed up a little across his forehead. Gold framed spectacles that slid down his nose gave him the habit of constantly pushing them back up to his eyes. He stood at five-foot-ten inches, hunched somewhat from worry and older age, but carried himself to her, as if he stood ten feet tall. Always the gentleman and always living his life thinking of others, her father never acted in any way that would ever denigrate his integrity. She looked at him now, filled with pride, and felt grateful she had, at least, one surviving family member.

A knock on the door signaled that Uncle Hank had arrived. His scarecrow like demeanor made him appear even more loveable as he smiled brightly at the dinner guests.

“I’m sorry I’m a bit late, but they worked us a little longer today. Business has been good. I don’t mind though because it means a little extra money,” said Hank.

After introductions, Dr. Donovan took his place at the head of the table, with Madeline and Hank seated at his right. Rosa and Louie sat on the left side of her father. It was a breezy, mild day, and they had left the window open in the dining area, the warm wind blowing stirred the candlelight on the table to flicker. Dusk had come and gave the room a shadowy, warm feeling.

Mrs. O'Malley served a hearty chicken soup; however, except for Uncle Hank, no one ate very much. Madeline’s curiosity was getting the better of her, and all she wanted was for dinner to be over so that Rosa and Louie could tell their story.

“Rosa, do you feel you can begin to tell us a little more of what has transpired with your sister?” asked Madeline.

“I have not seen my sister for two years—she lives with my father in New York. After our mother had passed away, she stayed with my Father to help him run the family bakery. Father finally was doing well enough to allow Maria to come for an extended stay here in Chicago. She arrived several weeks ago and had been in awe of the city, spending time at McVicker’s Theater and traveling everywhere around Chicago. However, after one of her days of sightseeing, she did not return. She had previously never arrived home later than nine. I know she had made several casual acquaintances, both male and female, but nothing more than to enjoy a visit to one of the museums or to have a meal with.

Then several days ago, she left, being rather secretive and dressed in a most becoming gown, saying she was attending the theater with a group of ladies. She said she was meeting them down the street at the new Harrison Hotel. We have not heard from her since.”

“I agree with my sister, something terrible has happened to Maria, and no one in authority seems to care. They said they would send a police officer around to the hotel to ask about her, but that was about it,” said Louie.

“Do you have a photograph of her?” asked Madeline.

“Yes, we had some taken as soon as she arrived. She is a beauty; I am sure you would agree,” answered Louie.

He handed her a picture of Rosa, her husband, Louie, and Maria, taken in a studio setting. They were a handsome family, and as Louie said, Maria stood out among them. Although there was no color in the photograph—only shades of sepia—her striking features nonetheless compelled one to look at her.