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I was my dads vinyl-wallah: I changed his records while he lounged around drinking tea, and thats how I know my Argo from my Tempo. And its why, when Dr Walid called me to the morgue to listen to a corpse, I recognised the tune it was playing. Something violently supernatural had happened to the victim, strong enough to leave its imprint like a wax cylinder recording. Cyrus Wilkinson, part-time jazz saxophonist and full-time accountant, had apparently dropped dead of a heart attack just after finishing a gig in a Soho jazz club. He wasnt the first.
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Vânzător: Anticexlibris.ro
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