The reviews called it a "play to die for" after the woman was found dead in the front row. It didn't seem so funny the next night, when another body was found, this time the playwright's, his throat slashed.
Detective Kathy Mallory takes over, but no matter what she asks, no one seems to be giving her a straight answer. The only person, if "person" is the right word, who seems to be clear is the ghostwriter. Every night, an unseen backstage hand chalks up line changes and messages on a blackboard. And the ghostwriter is now writing Mallory into the play itself, a play about a long-ago massacre that may not be at all fictional. "Mallory," the blackboard reads. "Tonight's the night. Nothing personal."
If Mallory can't find out who's responsible, heads will roll. Unfortunately, one of them may be her own.
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“Morbid, macabre, and mordant—adjectives that can be applied to the plot, the prose, and the humor of this dazzling 11th novel in the series.”
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Publishers Weekly