Chapter Sixteen

Marcus followed Kaitlyn up the stairs toward the third landing of the theater. He couldn’t help a frown from marring his face, even with the particularly pleasant view of Kat’s hips swaying from side to side as she climbed the dimly lit staircase.

The play itself had just commenced and thankfully the crowd had taken to their seats or boxes for the performance. Lord Burton would most likely be annoyed at the interruption, as he was known for his passionate appreciation of the theater, but Marcus had no doubt that once he heard of the possible danger he was in, he wouldn’t be too upset.

There were still a few waiters scurrying about, glasses of champagne balanced delicately on trays as they ducked in and out of the various boxes, in a concerted effort to ensure the patrons comfortably sequestered within had all their wishes satisfied.

Marcus saw one waiter back carefully out of one of the alcoves ahead, his hands empty except for a large white napkin draped over one hand. The man turned and paused upon seeing them climbing the stairs. He bowed to them from the landing above, then straightened but kept his head low and deferential as he clambered down the stairs and rushed past them.

“Where is Burton’s box?” Kat asked, looking back at Marcus.

“Up ahead I believe, box sixteen,” he replied, coming abreast of her. There was something odd about the waiter that Marcus couldn’t quite put his finger on, but when he turned back to look, the man was already gone.

They passed several more boxes, the sound of the show careening through the thin material covering the opening of each, offering a somewhat limited measure of privacy. Then, as they came to a stop outside Burton’s box, Marcus realized it was the same one the waiter had exited.

His whole body braced in alert as he pushed open the curtain and peered inside. Lord Burton was the sole occupant of the space and was sitting on one of the plush red velvet chairs, which was inclined at a slight angle toward the front of the stage. His eyes were closed, and he looked asleep, slumped over to the side.

Striding forward, Marcus took in the deathly stillness of Burton’s chest. He rushed to feel for a pulse on the man’s neck. There was none.

He turned back to Kat. “He’s dead.” His voice was flat, a sense of rage and helplessness washing over him for a moment. They had been too late!

“The Chameleon got here first?”

Their eyes locked and they simultaneously said, “The waiter!”

Kat ran through the curtain and back into the hallway, Marcus following closely on her heels. They careened down the staircase to the ground floor, passing several other waiters down the stairway, but not the one they were looking for.

They came to the ground-level entry where there were still a few staff members left to maintain order while the performance was on. Marcus scanned those assembled but cursed when he realized their quarry was not amongst them.

“Have you seen a waiter of slim stature and brown hair pass through here?” Kat asked them.

Most shook their heads, but one of the older waiters stepped forward. “If he was a staff member, my lady, he may have gone through the back stairway, located off the first floor just up the stairs to the left. You would have passed it as you came down.”

Marcus had already started back up the steps as Kat thanked the man and followed behind him.

He turned at the top of the stairs and saw another staircase farther down, which was roped off with a sign on it saying for use by staff only.

Ignoring the sign, he unlatched the rope from the hook before racing down the much less elaborate stairwell than that of the main staircase, Kat following closely behind. They came out down the bottom, into what was a bustling hive of activity as servants and waiters alike dashed about with trays of food. A man who was clearly in charge rushed over to them.

“I am so sorry, but this is for staff only!” The man tried to smile politely but clearly was not used to having any guests race down into the bowels of the place. “I shall have to ask you to go back to your seats.”

“Lord Burton has been murdered,” Marcus said.

The man gasped and brought his hands up over his chest. “Murdered? Surely not. Not in the Lyceum Theatre.”

“Did a waiter come rushing down here a minute or two before us?” Kat asked the man.

He nodded earnestly. “Yes, the darn fellow wouldn’t listen to me when I asked him to take a tray to box twenty-four.” He pointed over to a hallway down the corridor. “He ran down there toward the back alley.”

“Get the police here immediately,” Marcus said. He looked at Kat, unaccountably pleased to see she had already armed herself and was holding her dagger discreetly by her side. There was something to be said for a woman confident in being able to protect herself.

He pulled out his own pistol from the holster hidden under his jacket and then, without a word passing between them, they headed toward the hallway the man had pointed to.

The carpet was threadbare down the darkened corridor, with only a few gas lamps lit on the walls. They came to the end of the hallway where a back door led into the alleyway behind the theater. The door was made of wood and painted a sickly green color.

Carefully, Marcus turned the handle and cracked the wood open but an inch. He glanced through the small gap but couldn’t see or hear anything. His eyes sought out Kat’s and she nodded in silent acknowledgment. With a returning nod, Marcus kicked the door wide open.

The alleyway was deserted and dark, but there was a gleam of silver and glass from an object lying on the ground to his right. Retrieving a handkerchief from his pocket, Marcus bent down and picked the item up. It was a glass syringe, with a small amount of liquid residue in the bottom.

“Poison, perhaps?” Kat was peering at the vial.

“Yes, we may have found Burton’s murder weapon. But, unfortunately, our quarry got away from us. God damn it!”