Woolmington nineteen thirty-five springs to mind. Then Miss Noriac will probably want to press charges for invasion of privacy and attempted assault, and sue you and your paper, assuming you were acting under its auspices, for causing her undue distress.”
“Please, no! Think of the publicity!” Riley wheezed.
“I imagine her attitude could be mitigated by the level of contrition you show her.”
“And you might want to pin yourself up, seeing as your arse is hanging out of your trousers and there are ladies below,” added Biddle, leading the horrified critic downstairs. Parole and May followed at a polite distance.
“Are you really going to press all those charges?” asked Helena as they descended to the stalls.
“No, I was talking absolute rubbish. So, another false alarm.”
“It’s wearing down my cast. They’re seeing things in every dark corner. We’re all spooked, but of course nobody wants the show to close. I think I preferred it when there was just a murderer loose. Now all they talk about is this – creature.”
“You shouldn’t believe everything you read in the papers,” said May.
“No, other people have seen things. Corinne says she glimpsed it again in the upper circle. Says it was running on its hands like a monkey. Madeline, my ASM, was understage and heard something hooting, or crying, near the orchestra. She reckons it sounded like an animal in pain. Your Betty still hasn’t got over her nasty turn.”
That’s a point, thought May. We were supposed to see each other at the weekend. He suddenly realized that he had been too preoccupied by the investigation to call her.
“They can’t all be imagining things,” Helena continued, “but what on earth could it be? It’s not like anybody’s keeping a noisy pet tucked away backstage. Stan Lowe was the only one in last night, and said he was just about to lock up when he saw the shadow of something swinging back and forth on the underside of the dress circle. I know they’re very artistic people but this is a kind of collective madness. It’s a dilemma: do we stay open for business and hope to catch this thing, or close and never discover the truth? Have you heard anything from the council?”
“Still no word from Westminster on the safety ruling,” said May, “and the Lord Chamberlain’s office is suspiciously silent, so I think it’s safe to assume that Renalda nobbled them.”
Helena stopped as they reached the landing. “I hear your partner accused Andreas of sabotaging his own production, and that he’s been chucked off the case.” She smiled ominously at him. “Don’t look so surprised. Everyone talks around here. You should hear some of the rumours. I even heard that he was having an affair with poor Elspeth, but I know that’s not true.”
“Why are you so sure?”
“Darling, she’s a professional virgin. Married to the theatre. It takes some people like that. They get like nuns, very vocational.”
“What else are your cast discussing in their dressing rooms?”
“They’re saying the Phantom will attack again tomorrow night, during the show. It’s a gala charity benefit and we have a lot of celebrities attending, including Vera Lynn, half of the Crazy Gang and Mr Claude Rains, if you please, so if the Phantom does appear perhaps the two of them can have it out on one of the electroliers.”
“You don’t sound very worried.”
“At this point, Eurydice would have to explode into flames and burn to death in front of a thousand people before anything could surprise me. Although of course poor old Valerie did get her brains knocked out in front of a full house.” Helena examined the end of her cigarette. “And to think she was always so worried about being upstaged.”
? Full Dark House ?
55
ENGLISH CRUELTY
The front door was locked and barred with planks.
For added emphasis, a DO NOT ENTER poster had been glued across it. This was how May found the Peculiar Crimes Unit when he returned to it in the afternoon. He walked round to the Bow Street duty desk, where Sergeant Carfax could barely suppress the smile on his face.
“Ain’t you heard?” he asked May. “Davenport’s closed you lot down, pending an official inquiry. You and your weedy bookreading chum are for the high jump, mate.”
May was shocked, but wasn’t going to let Carfax see how upset he was.
“Then I’ll set up a base at the theatre,” he told the sergeant. “If Mr Davenport has anything to say to me, he can do it to my face.” There was a typewriter in the company office at the Palace, and a telephone. That was all he needed. With Bryant gone and Forthright’s position hingeing on her undecided marriage, he was now in charge, and determined to make sure that everyone knew it.
At five P.M. the Westminster Council ruling came in. The envelope arrived by messenger and was taken to Andreas Renalda’s office. The tycoon summoned May, who was in the process of taking up residence on the ground floor. May found Renalda sprawled on his leather couch, resting the steel calipers that caused him so much pain.
“We have been granted a stay of execution,” he said, indicating that May should pour whisky into a pair of glasses. “You will join me? ‘The council was not presented with any proof that these deaths could have been avoided by better safety regulations within the theatre.’ I told you. Their inspectors found only minor infringements. We must open the second pass door to comply with fire regulations, then we get a clean bill of health. The exact word they use to describe recent events is ‘unfortunate’. So we go on, and unless you can come up with any positive evidence for nightly turning away over one and a half thousand people, your job here is over.”
“I’ll still be close by,” threatened May.
“Your partner behaved in an irresponsible manner.”
“Mr Bryant voluntarily tendered his resignation. Our director endorsed his decision for a transfer, and has closed down the unit. He’ll probably take me off the case as soon as he can find me.”
“One would hope to discover friends in adversity, Mr May, but I suspect this makes us enemies.” Renalda smiled knowingly. “Your people are famous for supporting each other against the rest of us, even when you’re not in agreement.”
“I have no quarrel with you. I was trained to believe that the case is always greater than the officer.”
“Well, that is very diplomatic of you, but I come from a long line of grudge-bearers. I know how the world works. Business decisions are not made for the good of the people, but for the sake of profit, loyalty and expedience. Why do you think I am financing this production? You think I am honouring my wife, paying a debt to my Muses, giving something back to the world of theatre?”
“I imagine your motives are the same as anyone’s in business.”
“I go where I see the money going next. There’s no future in manufacturing during peacetime. Once we have rebuilt the cities, people will have more time on their hands. They’ll have money to spend.”
“They’re turning the theatres into boxing rings, Mr Renalda.”
“Only while the war lasts.” He knocked back the rest of his whisky. “Afterwards they will pay fortunes to see spectacle. There will be many more young people. We are killing off the older generation. Shows like this are just the start. What humanity wants most is crude sensation.”
“Really? I thought what humanity wanted most was dignity.”
“He was a shrewd man,” May told his biographer decades later. “But someone else beat him to his big idea. Two years after
“Let’s get back to the murders,” said the biographer.
“Tell me something.” May turned to the tycoon, watching as Renalda’s broad hands absently massaged the
