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choirmasters and répétiteurs, the members of the orchestra, guest instrumentalists, piano accompanists and the prompt. The stage machinery alone requires fifty permanent operators and a dozen electricians, and another thirty-five stage-hands are employed for large productions. There are the administrators, the costume designers, seamstresses, tailors, painters, carpenters, light engineers, porters, ushers, dressers, cloakroom attendants, and box-office staff. We even have our own opera physician. I could go on. The court opera is like a small principality. You wish to conduct an investigation – but where, exactly, do you propose to start?’
    Rheinhardt took a slim box of trabucos from his coat pocket and offered one to the director.
    Mahler waved his hand in the air.
    ‘No, have one of mine. I owe you two gentlemen this small courtesy, at least.’ He opened a desk drawer and removed a canister packed with fat cigars wrapped in silver paper. As he distributed them he added, ‘A gift from an archduke who fancies himself a composer. These cigars arrived with an opera score and a request for me to consider it for inclusion in next year’s programme. Regrettably, the music was entirely without merit and I had to refuse him. The lord chamberlain wasn’t very happy, but what was I supposed to do?’
    Rheinhardt struck a match and lit the director’s and Liebermann’s cigars before lighting his own. The tobacco was of a very high quality and tasted like caramel.
    ‘Very good,’ said Rheinhardt, exhaling a yellow cloud that expanded into a haze of pungent sweetness. Crossing his legs, he returned to the original topic of conversation. ‘I take your point, Herr Director: many people work at the opera house. But I only want to consult a few of Fräulein Rosenkrantz’s associates, preferably close associates, and was hoping that you would be able to identify who such persons might be.’
    ‘As I have already stated,’ said the director, ‘my relationship with Fräulein Rosenkrantz was strictly professional. I did not know her very well and therefore cannot speak with much authority.’ He rested his forehead against the knuckles of his closed fist. After a brief pause, he added, ‘It was rumoured that she was having some form of dalliance with Winkelmann last year, but I’m sure that it wasn’t very much more than a little harmless flirtation. You must understand, inspector, there is always a great deal of gossip at the opera house, and most of it is highly fanciful.’ Mahler drew on his cigar and the creases on his brow deepened. ‘However, I think I am correct in saying that Fräulein Rosenkrantz had a particular fondness for Herr Schneider.’
    Rheinhardt took out his notebook. ‘Who?’
    ‘Felix Schneider. Fräulein Rosenkrantz’s dresser, although in reality he was more like a factotum. She brought him with her when she came here from Prague.’
    ‘Where can we find him?’
    ‘He will be at home.’ Mahler addressed his secretary, ‘Przistaupinsky, can you find Herr Schneider’s address for the inspector?’
    The secretary bowed and left the room.
    Rheinhardt wrote the name Felix Schneider in his notebook and tapped the pencil against the page.
    ‘I understand that Fräulein Rosenkrantz wasn’t very happy at the opera house.’
    The director responded, ‘How do you mean?’
    ‘She found you …’ Rheinhardt faltered. ‘I apologise, Herr Director, but I must be blunt. I was informed that she found you demanding.’
    The corners of Mahler’s mouth curled to produce a humourless smile.
    ‘They all find me demanding, Inspector. I am perfectly aware of what people say behind my back. I am a tyrant, a monster! But when the singers are getting their standing ovations and the audience are calling for more and stamping their feet, all is forgiven. Under my direction they give the performances of their lives. That is why they stay.’
    ‘I have been told that there is bad feeling between some of the