Full Dark House(86)

‘You’ve heard?’ May asked. ‘Christ, we should be there instead of here.’

‘There’s nothing you or I can do for them,’ muttered Bryant, barely raising his eyes. ‘I want you to meet Andreas Renalda. He’s the only Greek we know, and Edna mentioned Greeks. When I looked into his eyes I caught a glimpse of something.’

‘He’s probably upset about spending a fortune on a show that may never open. According to Helena Parole, updating Orpheus was all his idea. Anyway, didn’t you already get everything you could out of him?’ May was finding it increasingly hard to concentrate on Bryant’s theories when, just a short distance from London, the bodies of so many innocent civilians were being dragged from the smoking ruins of a town. Their case seemed absurd and almost pointless by comparison.

‘He might be different with you. Talk about whatever comes into your head. Keep him off guard. I want you to study him. You’re better with people than I am. I’m still missing a link, and I keep wondering.’ Bryant sucked at his pipe pensively. ‘Suppose Renalda thinks he’s betraying the ancient gods of his homeland by staging such a controversial production? He says his family is superstitious. What if they think he’s going against the mythical protectors of Greece? He may have accidentally inspired someone to seek revenge. That would make him responsible for what’s happened, wouldn’t it?’

May gave a sigh of annoyance. Bryant’s thinking seemed so far removed from his own, so unrelated to the cause-and-effect crimes of the real world, that he could not find a response. Instead, he went to see Andreas Renalda.



The tycoon was on his way to a board meeting but agreed to collect May at Piccadilly Circus and let him travel in his limousine as far as Hyde Park Corner. The sleek black Rolls-Royce was a vision of lost elegance. It glided to a stop beneath the vast ‘Dig for Victory’ banner that hung across the fascia of Swan and Edgar, and the chauffeur, liveried in black and red, the colours of the family guild, opened its passenger door to admit the detective. Renalda was sprawled across the back seat, his steel calipers holding his useless legs to one side.

‘I have arranged a telephone call in order to speak to the board in Athens tonight,’ Renalda explained, after introductions were made. ‘My fellow directors have received news of our troubles, and require assurances. I was the one who convinced them that we should adopt such a high-risk venture. Our people, Mr May, are conservative individuals. They do not approve of my show, but they like the thought of the revenue it could generate. I have to assure them that we are not facing some kind of moral crusade. Harmful reports are appearing in your newspapers, suggesting that we have brought misfortune on ourselves, that we deserve what we get for bringing continental sex into venerable British theatreland. What your journalists are really saying, in their own charmingly circumspect manner, is that we are unwanted foreigners.’

‘Not all of us share the views expressed by those newspapers,’ May said, sinking back into the polished opulence of the leather seat. ‘Since you’ve raised the subject, I was wondering about your enemies.’

Renalda peered at him coldly over the top of his rimless glasses. ‘I don’t recall discussing my enemies with your partner.’

‘Forgive me, you’re running a company that, according to The Times, is venturing into a market it knows nothing about. Your father was known to be a hard negotiator, and you told Mr Bryant that you take after him. You may well have offended someone. Your rivals have good reason to want to see you fail in this enterprise.’

‘I am sure they do,’ Renalda admitted evenly, ‘but the wars of my father are not mine. You might credit me with more sophistication. At the end of the nineteen twenties my father’s company had few remaining assets. Its debts were converted into equity that is still held by the other trustees.’

‘How do they feel about your plans to leave the world of shipping?’

‘Most of them consider me foresighted.’

‘Most but not all?’

Renalda folded away his glasses with a sigh. ‘I have known the board’s directors all my life. You are looking in the wrong place.’ Something in his voice suggested this was not necessarily so.

‘This is a very important week for you,’ said May, watching the grey window-boards of Selfridge’s drift past.

‘It’s the culmination of a lifelong project that has not been destroyed even by a world plunged into war. My mother was a free spirit, but my father’s house was her prison. Sirius would not allow the curtains to be opened because the sunlight damaged his paintings. When I was a boy my mother used to play Offenbach’s music and dance alone through the still, dark rooms. It was the only time she was ever really happy.’ The Rolls-Royce pulled up at traffic lights. The red, amber and green lenses had been covered with black tape so that slits formed narrow luminous crosses. ‘I cannot afford to make any mistakes, Mr May. There are too many people watching me.’