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back at him. Moldoveanu had despised almost everyone in our forensic course, though he’d taken greater exception to me and Thomas for the unforgivable sin of solving the murders taking place in his school. “Speaking of him, why aren’t you at the academy?”
Not that I wasn’t pleased to see him. Mr. Noah Hale was one of my favorite peers. I marveled at our good fortune of crossing paths with him here.
Noah’s expression fell. I watched the gleam leave his dark eyes, replaced by something much sadder. “Momma got sick. I had to come back and help with the family. My dad works from sunup ’til sundown and the little ones needed me.”
I gripped his hand in mine. “I’m sorry. How is your mother feeling now?”
One of the qualities I admired about Noah was how nothing ever seemed to keep him down for long. A smile lit up his face again. “Better, thank you. Don’t feel too bad that I’m not suffering under Moldoveanu.” He opened a flap of his overcoat, pointing to an insignia sewn onto his vest. It was an eye with WE NEVER SLEEP stitched around it. It was unfamiliar to me, but Thomas seemed impressed as he offered a low whistle. “I’ve been invited to apprentice with the Pinkertons. They gave me a filler case for now, but it’s interesting.”
“The Pinkertons, as in the famed detective agency?” Thomas asked, perking up further. “The ones who stopped the assassination plot against Lincoln?”
“How do you know that?” I stared incredulously. “That was before you were born!”
“As were the Romans, but we learn that history, too,” Thomas said matter-of-factly. He turned his attention back on Noah, running all sorts of Cresswell deductions. “They haven’t given you any problems, have they?”
“Mr. Pinkerton had a cabin about fifty miles north of here that used to be a stop on the Underground Railroad. Only thing he cares about is taking on the best people for the job.” Noah buttoned his coat back up, breathing into his gloves. Snow started falling, twirling every which way as it tumbled to the ground. New York had been cold, but Chicago seemed born of ice. “You two here for the fair?”
Thomas glanced at me, perhaps searching for permission he didn’t require. We had no rules or restrictions between us. “My uncle was called to New York for a case,” I said. “Through a few strange twists, it brought us here.”
“Oh? It wouldn’t be the murder of that woman in New York, would it? The one they’re claiming was done by Jack the Ripper?” he asked. Noah was always particularly astute, especially when it came to collecting details of things left unsaid. “I thought a man was found guilty of that.”
“Yes, well, it’s unfortunate but I don’t believe it’s the first time a man’s been wrongfully convicted of a crime,” I said. “You mentioned a case you’re working on? Does it involve forensics?”
“Unfortunately, it doesn’t. No body, no crime scene or evidence of any acts of malice in her home. I’m not even sure a crime was committed.” Noah stepped out of the way of a harried-looking businessman. “It’s as if she simply vanished.”
“Her family is nearby?” Thomas’s gaze traveled over our friend, no doubt deducing details of the case before Noah offered them. “Which is why you’re here. How long has she been missing?” Noah didn’t have time to open his mouth before Thomas nodded. It was impressive, even for him. “Ah. Not long. A week?”
“It’s a bit unnerving when you do that, you know.” Noah scratched the side of his neck, shaking his head slightly. “Miss Emeline Cigrande went to work five days ago. Left to have luncheon, then never returned. Her father expected her home for supper—she was his caregiver. When she didn’t return…” I followed Noah’s gaze as it settled on the man ringing the bell and spouting about demons. “Poor Mr. Cigrande. He’s been out of his mind, hasn’t slept since she left. He keeps ringing that bell like it’ll bring her back home safely.”
I softened at the hell that must be waging war inside of Mr. Cigrande’s mind. His daughter was gone; he was unwell. No wonder he believed the devil was to blame.
“Anyway, enough about that. Have you been to the fair yet?” Noah asked, changing the subject rather abruptly. I shook my head, pulling my attention back to the present. “You’ve gotta see it at sunset. The water in the Grand Basin looks like lava!”
“We won’t have much time to see the sights once our investigation is underway.” Thomas seemed intrigued. “We’ll need to ask the professor’s permission first, but why not go this evening?”
“I’m game if you are,” Noah said. “I’ve got to speak with Mr. Cigrande and go over his story once more. Which should give you both time to send a telegram. Meet me near the Statue of the Republic around six thirty. You won’t regret it.”
Court of Honor, World’s Fair, Chicago
THIRTY
ILLUMINATION
COURT OF HONOR
WORLD’S COLUMBIAN EXPOSITION
10 FEBRUARY 1889
We stood on the bridge overlooking the Grand Basin, admiring the domed Administration Building, waiting as the sun gracefully sank into a curtsy, its rays a rich tapestry of salmon, tangerine, and deep gold. Covered boats crossed from one side of the Court of Honor to the next, gliding across the otherwise still waters of the reflecting pool. American flags snapped in the light breeze, their sound swallowed by the large crowd. Every so often a flurry fell from the heavens, as if Mother Nature was adding a bit of her own magic to this shimmering city.
My gaze fell from one wonder to the next, drinking in each detail. From proud stone bulls facing east on the banks of the shore, to the Statue of the Republic before us, I could spend a lifetime traveling from building to building.
Noah and Thomas chatted about the architecture, commenting on the pleasing aesthetics of each cornice being built at the same height. What struck me was the neoclassical design—the creamy whites of each building, and the way they shifted to even softer hues as twilight cast its opal-colored net across the fair. I swore it appeared as if some celestial artist painted the buildings before our very eyes, taking care to gild their edges.
“It’s incredible,” I said. “How did they create such a palace so quickly?”
“Wait until the real magic starts,” Noah said, gazing at a boat cutting through the water. “I’ve come at sunset at least once every week since I got back, and it never ceases to amaze me.”
