Curtain up. Body down.
In this prequel to Fugitive Colors (1995), diffident NYC copper Sigrid Harald begins her affair with artist Oscar Nauman; shares her apartment with roly-poly writer/amateur sleuth Roman Tramegra; and finds herself knee-deep in kiddies who enjoyed a matinee until child-size dancer Emmy Mion was thrown into a pointed fence by another dancer wearing a jack-o’-lantern costume. Whodunit, and why? Sigrid and her gang at the NYPD will interrogate the cast, the backstage help and the audience many, many times, on each occasion revising the crime timetable, but never coming close to a solution until Dr. Christa Ferrell, a former classmate of Sigrid’s now become a pediatric psychotherapist, wades in to assess the kids. Meanwhile, another unsolved murder comes into play. Roman tries to be helpful. Sigrid’s mother tries to smarten her wardrobe. Oscar enjoys a breakfast of Sigrid and blueberry muffins. Eventually, the timetables and the kids coincide, but not before one more horrific murder must be reassigned.
A clunker that proves even the most prize-worthy of authors can have a bad day.
