Read Online A Place For Repentance (The Underwood Mysteries Book 6) by Suzanne Downes - Free Book Online

the evening, fully aware that the young woman had looked both ill and distressed by the catcalls. Luckily it was not an overly long play and when the end came they hastily explained to Lindell of their concern for the girl. He was both worried and determined to be helpful.
                  “By all means go behind the scenes and find out if the young lady is being cared for. I noticed her myself and wondered what the trouble was. I will see you later at home.”
                  He shepherded his excited flock off down the street, all loudly discussing the play, comparing notes on the various actors and their good looks, the clever use of scenery and the meaning of the archaic language, while the Underwoods found their way to the back door of the theatre, down a dingy alley which smelled, for some unknown reason, strongly of fish.
                  It was chaotic and rather grubby behind the facade of the stage and Underwood thought sadly of how the illusion was shattered by the reality of the human condition. In candlelight the players had looked young and vibrant, but in reality most were middle-aged or older, the greasepaint so thick that it looked as if it might crack like old plaster if their faces became too mobile. The handsome leading man would have sadly disappointed the sighing young ladies in the auditorium had they seen him close to, for he was well past his prime and complained loudly of a creaking, aching knee which he swore meant he could no longer bend it without severe pain.
                  It took the interlopers a long time to find someone who could direct them to the stage manager, who seemed to be the only person who knew what had become of Violette. He was in what passed for an office and was slouched in a battered old chair, just pouring himself a well-earned and extremely large glass of blue ruin.
                  “What do you want?” he asked rudely, “A bit old for begging signed playbills, aren’t you?” He leered at Verity, apparently familiar with ladies lusting after the heroes of the stage and coming backstage in search of illicit adventures.
                  Underwood stepped discreetly in front of his wife to protect her from any further impertinence, “Mind your manners, fellow and tell us what has happened to Violette Molyneux. She is a friend and we saw she was taken ill during the performance.”
                  The man grinned unpleasantly, “A friend of the Frenchie, eh? Well rather you than me, if she’s like the rest of her race, she’d as soon cut your throat as smile at you.”
                  “I understand she is from Flanders,” said Underwood evenly, determined not to let the man rattle him.
                  “Same difference,” snarled the man, “whatever the hell she is, she’s no longer my problem. I fired her. Sent her off to gather her chattels and get out. I don’t pay good money for those who cannot keep up with rest of the troupe.”
                  “You’ve left her destitute?” asked Verity, righteous anger making her brave enough to address the bloated bully.
                  “If you care that much,” said the man, leaning threateningly forward and spitting the words with malice, “take her in yourself. Now get out of my theatre, frog-lovers, before I have you thrown out!”
                  Underwood considered briefly calling the fellow outside to teach him some manners, but good sense prevailed.  The fellow was drunk and a gentleman did not take advantage of another’s weakness – besides, he very much doubted his own physical strength was sufficient to acquit himself well just yet. He contented himself by saying quietly, “You are a disgrace, sir, and I trust your accounts are in order, for I fully intend to report you to the relevant authorities.” He well knew that rambling players such as these felt