By Gerald Elias
Daniel Jacobus, reclusive blind live performance grasp and beginner sleuth, returns to resolve a so much despicable crime and to transparent an blameless man.
Just after his Carnegie corridor swansong and ahead of his impending departure for retirement in France, cherished violinist and humanitarian Rene Allard is brutally murdered with a mysterious weapon. His younger African American rival, crossover artist BTower, is noticed on the scene of the crime soaring over the contorted physique of Allard with blood on his arms. in brief order the aloof and conceited BTower is convicted and sentenced to dying, partially the results of the testimony of blind and curmudgeonly violin pedagogue Daniel Jacobus, like hundreds of thousands of others, an ardent admirer of Allard. Justice has been served...or has it? Jacobus is dragged again into the case kicking and screaming, and reluctantly follows a path of damaged violins and damaged lives because it leads inexorably to the reality, and to his personal mortal peril.
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Additional info for Danse Macabre (Daniel Jacobus Mysteries, Book 2)
Why wasn’t he living with the other new recruits in the patrolmen’s dormitories? And why was he spending his spare time going through old police reports? “Thank you for bringing these to my attention,” Michael said. “Thank you, sir. The supervising officer was Detective Hatener. ” repeated Michael, and he flicked back through the reports. “I thought maybe—” But before the boy could finish, Michael had risen from his desk and was marching across the bureau floor. indd 40 7/9/15 2:53 PM 6 L D’Andrea tramped down the grand avenue of Canal Street in the midday sun.
She asked. indd 26 7/9/15 2:53 PM The Axeman 27 “She’s good,” Lewis said, responding as if the question was perfectly innocent, and Ida could tell by the way he answered that he was lying. Ida and Mayann, Lewis’s mother, both agreed that Daisy was no proper match for him. The girl was a couple of years older than he was, querulous, and prone to bouts of violence. She worked as a prostitute in the honky-tonks across the river, rough places full of levee workers and longshoremen, and it was in one such place, the Brickhouse, that Lewis had met her the previous spring.
Well, I can understand that,” said Lewis, his face suddenly somber. ” He grinned, and Ida smiled and shook her head. ” he asked. ” Ida bit her lip again and thought for a moment. “Kinda,” she said. Lefebvre had promised her fieldwork when she had first been hired, but the promise had proved hollow. She found herself spending her days answering letters, filing, and running to the store to buy him rye. She deserved a break, a chance to prove herself. indd 29 7/9/15 2:53 PM 30 RAY C E LE S TIN she didn’t see why she should have to settle for a career at the bottom of the ladder, just because other people deemed her gender and the tint of her skin to be a hindrance.