GRECIAN MOCKERY
The Wolseley pulled up outside the sandbagged gates of Andreas Renalda’s Highgate house just as it began to rain again. May tried to use the windscreen wipers, but the Bakelite control knob came off in his hand. He chucked it onto the back seat and stared out of the window, impotent and furious.
“Helena says Renalda’s Rolls left immediately after the performance to bring him back here,” Bryant explained anxiously. “If he’s innocent he shouldn’t know what’s happened yet, unless someone’s managed to telegraph him.”
May pulled up the handbrake and climbed out. Bryant loosened his tie and fumbled with the passenger door until May yanked it open. “I’m rather nervous about doing this,” he admitted. “You know – accusing someone.”
“I suppose I’ll have to support you,” May sighed. Being angry wasn’t going to solve anything. “How’s your chest?”
“A little better, thank you.”
“Renalda has a very good reason for wanting to sabotage his own production.” Bryant clutched at his partner’s sleeve. “Wait, before we go in, listen to me. The whole thing starts with his brother Minos. Something bothered me when I read Summerfield’s article: if Minos murdered Andreas’s wife, why did he stop there? Because their mother had made him believe that Andreas was protected. She wanted Minos to think that he couldn’t harm Andreas without hurting himself.”
“I’m with you so far,” said May, turning up his collar.
“To do this, she had to make her crippled son believe it, otherwise he would have made them both vulnerable. From the day Sirius decided that this child would own his empire, Diana filled the boy’s head with tales of old gods, and Andreas grew up believing in his protectors. He’s even built a shrine to them in the Palace Theatre. That’s why he chose the Palace, because of the statue of Euterpe on the roof. It was a sign to him. The building was guarded by a Muse.
“I hadn’t realized who the statue represented at first, because nobody in the theatre could remember, and I was misled because the statue is wrong. Euterpe has a flaming torch in her hand instead of a flute. The original figure had been smashed, so it had to be rebuilt from scratch, but the delicate instrument she held, hard to see from the ground, and much less dramatic, was replaced with a burning brand. This much I know. But now I see how everything fits together.”
“For God’s sake, let’s get back in the car until you’ve finished. It’s falling like stair rods out here.” May settled back into his seat and turned on the Wolseley’s heater. “Come on then, give me the rest of your hypothesis.”
“Which gods did Renalda’s mother believe in?” There was excitement in Bryant’s voice. “Euterpe was one of the nine Muses of Greek mythology. Diana summoned the Muses to protect her son. These nine sacred goddesses nurture and inspire, bringing continued wealth and good fortune. But if you’ve ever studied mythology, you’ll know that every request made to the gods exacts a price. The price for this protection was losing Elissa, Andreas’s wife. Andreas believes that everything in his life has been decided by the Muses his mother invoked. Now that Diana is dead, Renalda is exorcizing his guardian spirits, getting rid of them one by one. He no longer has need of them. Worse, they’ve become his gaolers.”
“What do you mean, his gaolers? I thought they were helping him.”
“My guess is he doesn’t want their help any more. He wants to prove himself, to make his own way, just as his father did. So what does he do? First he negates Euterpe’s power by daring to stage a sacrilegious play in her temple, the building over which she presides in the form of a debased statue.
“Then he chooses Offenbach’s version of the Orpheus legend, because it’s a cruel mockery, and because it will give him access to all the representatives of the Muse. The mother of Orpheus was Calliope, one of the Muses, remember?
“After this, the removal of his gods begins in earnest. He drugs Tanya Capistrania with hemlock, a poison his mother would have taught him how to use, but panics when he can’t tell whether the drug has worked. He isn’t sure the dancer is dead, so he drags Capistrania’s feet through the trellis of the lift to make certain. Tanya, a representative of Terpsichore, the Muse of dance, loses her feet, you see?
“Next, Renalda impales Charles Senechal, a perfect living example of Urania, Muse of astronomy. How better to kill him than with a giant planet? Urania is usually depicted carrying a globe and compasses.”
May shook his head, trying to free it from the clouds of Bryant’s madness. “But surely Senechal was the wrong sex to represent a Muse.”
“Come on, John, gender is virtually interchangeable in Greek legend. So, where are we? Ah, yes.” Bryant nodded vigorously. “Andreas watches and waits for his next opportunity. Nobody knows when he’s in the theatre, he told us that himself. He spots Zachary Darvell, the son of the performer representing the Muse Clio, proclaimer of history, smoking up in the gods. He waits until Darvell is alone and attacks him with a razor he has taken from one of the dressing rooms, pushing the body over the balcony.
“Why Darvell? Because in ancient mythology, Clio’s son was murdered. Renalda nearly got two for the price of one, because the real-life mother of the stage Orpheus – Calliope, the chief of the nine Muses, represented by Miles Stone’s mother, Rachel – was seated in the dress circle underneath. But Zachary yelled as he fell, enough for her to look up and get out of the way.”
“Do you have proof for any of this?” asked May, shaking his head sadly.
“I bet you anything that we’ll find out Zachary is, you know, a confirmed bachelor. Clio’s son was murdered by his male lover, and a flower sprang up in the blood he shed. The blood-spattered silk carnation in Darvell’s buttonhole, remember? Whoever gave it to him is implicated in the murder, but we don’t know where he got it. Which brings me to the woman he missed, Stone’s mother. She had time to get clear, and it’s ironic that she was alerted by the shrill blast of a flute, because it’s the sound that always accompanies Calliope in Greek mythology.
“Andreas partially failed this time, but he can’t allow himself to stop, so he must go on removing the power of each Muse, moving towards the day when he will be free of them all. Thalia, one of the three Graces, represented by Jan Petrovic, is missing presumed dead, then Melpomene, in her mask of tragedy, represented by the figure of Valerie Marchmont, Public Opinion, gets flattened. Five Muses down, four more – Erato, Polyhymnia, Clio and Calliope – still to go. Then he’ll finally be liberated from his mother, and free to act for himself.”
“He’s a cripple, Arthur. He can barely manage to get out of a chair.”
“For a man who makes a noise like a pile of saucepans falling downstairs when he walks, we still had no idea he was attending rehearsals. He knows every inch of the theatre. Everyone keeps telling you the building is filled with hiding places. It’s a mechanical hall of mirrors.”
“I don’t know – he doesn’t sound like the person Betty Trammel saw when she stayed overnight in the theatre. How could he have vanished from the roof right in front of the firewatcher? And how could he have got in and out of Jan Petrovic’s flat without being seen? Anyway, why is it so damned important for Andreas Renalda to be free of his protectors?”
“Because they prevent him from doing the one thing he longs for most of all.”
“Which is what?”
“To take revenge on his brother for the death of his wife. Revenge, John – that most classic of all motives in mythology. He can’t do it so long as he thinks the Muses guard him. So he’s showing them who’s boss. He’s humiliated them and now he’s sacrificing them. The whole play has been set up just to do that.”
“And the Muses will let him without striking him dead with a thunderbolt? What about the creature? The terrible face? Others have seen it at night in the theatre.”
“Masks and make-up. The prop room is filled with disguises. They’re used in virtually every scene of the production. They must be lying around all over the place. A Greek tragedy mask? Bit of an obvious touch, that.”
“Do you know what I think?” said May, his voice cracking with anger. “You’re deranged. In a week of utter lunacies, you’ve finally lost your mind. Do you have any idea how insane all of this sounds?”
Bryant’s eyes widened even further. “That’s why I didn’t want to tell you, not until I was sure my theory was watertight.”
“I think
“No, no. I have you to thank for seeing clearly. You’re part of the maieutic process.”
“The
“Socratic midwifery.” He shook out his fingers in frustration. “You know, the easing out of ideas. You help
