A touring theatre company in New Zealand forms the basis of one of Marsh’s most ambitious and innovative novels.
New Zealand theatrical manager Alfred Meyer wanted to celebrate his wife’s birthday in style. The piece de résistance would be the jeroboam of champagne which would descend gently into a nest of fern and coloured lights on the table, set up on stage after the performance.
But something went horribly wrong. Chief Detective Inspector Alleyn witnessed it himself. Was Meyer’s death the product of Maori superstitions? Or something much more down to earth?
My Take
This is the fifth Inspector Alleyn mystery. Normally I’d start with the beginning of the series but I chose this one because it was set in New Zealand, where I was traveling at the time. (I did not realize Ngaio Marsh was a New Zealander until I started looking for books set there or by New Zealand authors.)
I really wanted to like this book but I didn’t. The mystery was intricate but was wrapped up a little too expeditiously. The archaic slang was hard to follow. There were so many characters and none but the main detective were fleshed out at all. Just not my thing.