“Two women missing from the same theater . . .” The Duke looked at Kendra. “You say that we are not dealing with a madman who preys on women, but I’m not so certain.”
“We don’t know what we’re dealing with yet,” she said quietly. But she was beginning to suspect. “We need to add Isabella Russo to our list on inquiries.”
She turned to Sam. “Mr. Kelly, can you send some of your men around to other theaters? Find out if they’ve had actresses who left without telling anyone.”
The Duke drew in a quick breath. “Then youdothink we’re dealing with the same kind of monster as before!”
“I actually don’t. Not like before, anyway,” she said slowly. “I can’t explain it, but this is different. No less evil, but different.”
Rebecca took a sip of tea, then set down her cup. “You think Clarice is the woman you mentioned last night, the one that Lady Westford saw keeping company with Mr. Goldsten.”
Kendra’s gaze fell on the poster. Younger and prettier. “Yes, I think so.”
“But how does this Isabella connect?” Rebecca wondered. “Unless it’s just a coincidence that she, too, disappeared.”
“I don’t like coincidences. And if we find more missing women, then it’s definitelynota coincidence.” Kendra hesitated, searching for the right words. “Lady Westford was known for having a strong interest in science and medicine. It’s possible Clarice had a bloodletting treatment. It would explain her being exsanguinated.”
Rebecca, who hadn’t been privy to that information, gasped. “Dear heaven. What are you talking about?”
“The poor woman had been bled dry,” Muldoon replied, his eyes on Kendra. “God save me from the barber so inept that they took every drop of blood.”
“We don’t know if all of her blood was taken,” Kendra reminded him, and narrowed her eyes in warning when he opened his mouth. “Do not start talking about vampires again. We arenotdealing with the supernatural.”
Muldoon grinned at her. “Ah, but none of this seemsnatural, my lady.”
Snagging two bacon strips, Kendra stood up and circled to the slate board.
“Let’s focus on what we know,” she said. “Two women are dead. Lady Westford read the newspaper article and recognized Clarice. She went to Munroe’s to confirm her suspicion.” Kendra took a bite of bacon, chewed, and swallowed before continuing. “Lady Harrington told me that the Queen wanted them on Friday. They were with her until Saturday afternoon.”
“That explains why she didn’t go immediately to the theater to inquire after Clarice,” Alec said.
Sam paused in shoveling his scrambled eggs into his mouth. “Aye, but it don’t explain why she didn’t identify the body ter Dr. Munroe.”
Muldoon tapped his finger against his tankard of ale. “More to the point, why’d she go to the theater on Saturday at all? She verified that Clarice was dead. Why inquire about her afterwards? Unless . . .” He flashed Kendra a cocky grin. “Maybe she believed the creature had risen from the grave.”
Kendra rolled her eyes. “I think we’re dealing with a more mundane explanation, Mr. Muldoon.”
“Such as?”
“Lady Westford was conducting her own investigation,” she said, laying out her theory. “She didn’t go to the theater to see if Clarice was there. She wanted to know if Clarice had been seen with anyone, talked about anyone. Unfortunately for her, it was Saturday night. The troupe was busy. No one had time for her.”
She pointed at Edwina’s name on the slate board. “Edwina lives and works at the theater. It makes sense that she observed this and approached Lady Westford, arranging to meet her the next day at the theater.”
Muldoon leaned back in his chair, surveying the slate board. “A reasonable assumption, I suppose. Although I can’t imagine Lady Westford conducting her own investigation.”
“Why, pray tell?” Rebecca asked. “Because she’s a woman?”
“Well, ladies of the Beau Monde typically don’t concern themselves with the murder of a lowly actress, much less investigate the murder themselves,” he replied, his tone light.
Kendra could tell that Rebecca was not amused by his observation. “That is a rather narrow-minded point of view, Mr. Muldoon,” she said. “As a lady of the Beau Monde, I can tell you that we aren’t all feeble, featherbrained females only interested in the cut of our gowns, sir.”
The reporter’s eyes widened, and it seemed to occur to him that might have put his foot in his mouth. “I never said—”
“I understandexactlywhat you are saying, Mr. Muldoon. You’ve made your position abundantly clear.”
If Rebecca lifted her nose any higher, she’d be staring at the ceiling,
Muldoon cast a glance around the table, obviously looking for help. Sam muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like “chucklehead,” while Alec and the Duke focused on eating their breakfast.
