Oh my! Hot jazz, aristocrats (common people seldom star in Ngaio Marsh's mysteries where even policemen are pedigreed) and murder all mixed up together. And bound within one of Fontana's better photo-covers. I love the dramatic foreshortening of the murder victim, lying there with some kind of spike sticking out of his white dress shirt. The image just draws you in and makes you want to find out what's going on.Rivera had advanced in the spotlight. He seemed rapt; at once tormented and exalted. He swayed and jerked and ogled, a puppet of his own music. As the performance rocketed up to its climax, he swayed backwards at a preposterous angle. Then a screaming dissonance abruptly tore loose from the general din as the spotlight switched to the tympani. Lord Pastern, wearing his sombrero, had risen. Advancing to within five feet of Rivera, he pointed his revolver at him and fired...
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