Alec lifted a haughty eyebrow. “And you are . . . ?”
The man drew himself up to his full five-feet-ten-inch height. A shock of salt-and-pepper hair framed a wide, mobile face that changed from agitation to pride in an instant. “I am Mr. Antonio Myott. I am the director and manager of the Bowden Theater.”
The deep, melodious voice coupled with his expressive face made Kendra almost certain that he’d been an actor himself at one time.
“I am Sutcliffe,” Alec replied. “This is the Duke of Aldridge and my wife, Lady Sutcliffe.”
Mr. Myott blinked. “We are honored by your patronage, of course, my lord, but we do not open for another two hours.”
“We’re not here for your performances,” Alec replied.
“Then, pray, what business do you have here, sir?”
“Lady Westford,” Kendra said simply.
The theater director’s expression cleared. “Ah. I see. Well, unfortunately, you’re too late, my lady. We are no longer selling tickets—she was removed yesterday.”
Kendra stared at him. She knew that in this era, the general public was allowed to stroll through crime scenes, but selling tickets? “Youchargedpeople to view Lady Westford’s body?”
Mr. Myott waved his hand. “It was Mr. Harvey’s idea. He owns the theater. But the authorities were quick to remove her, so we hardly made any money. I suppose I can’t complain, as it was distracting for my troupe to have folks traipsing through the auditorium during rehearsal.”
“I see.” Kendra had to swallow her outrage. “Can you tell me where she was found?”
A cagey look crossed Myott’s face. “Mr. Harvey wouldn’t want me to satisfy the public’s curiosity without compensation.”
Alec produced a coin, which disappeared quickly into Mr. Myott’s pocket. Kendra doubted that Mr. Harvey would ever see it.
The theater director grinned and pointed to the row of seats on the edge of the pit. “That’s where she was found. Bloody mess, it was. Looked like she broke her neck, the way her head was twisted.”
Kendra eyed the seats Myott was pointing at. “There was blood?”
“Yes. We had a devil of a time getting it off the back of the seat.”
Kendra asked, “Who found her?”
“Prudence and Edward.” He gestured toward the two actors who had been arguing earlier, but who were now observing them, unashamedly eavesdropping. “They came in early to rehearse yesterday morning—”
“Gave me a terrible start, it did,” Prudence interjected. She grabbed her companion’s elbow, dragging him across the stage. “Thought it was a prop, or someone playing a trick on us. But then we went over to her, didn’t we, Ed?”
“Aye.” He nodded. “We realized instantly that the poor dear had shuffled off her mortal coil.”
“Did you see anyone else around?” Kendra asked.
Edward shook his head. “Nay, no one was here save Prue and I. I ran out to fetch the constable and to send a message to Mr. Harvey and Mr. Myott.”
Prudence said, “Edwina is usually somewhere about, but—”
“Donotmention that creature’s name,” Myott snapped. “I am surrounded by ungrateful wretches.”
“‘How sharper than a serpent’s tooth it is to have a thankless child,’” Edward quoted with gusto.
Myott glared at the actor. “You need to remember the lines of the play you’re currently in, you lout. Now, both of you, get back to work!”
Kendra held up a finger. “One moment. I have a few more questions.”
“We don’t havetime for your questions, madam,” Myott said.
“Maybe Prudence can escort us around,” Kendra suggested. “That way, you can continue your business. We promise not to take much of her time.”
