Ellis Peters
Author
Description
Singers and musicians are gathered for a weekend course in folk music at the impressive neo-Gothic country mansion Follymead. Most come only to sing or to listen, but one or two have nonmusical scores to settle. When brilliantly talented Liri Palmer sings “Black, black, black is the colour of my true-love’s heart,” she clearly has a message for someone in the audience. And as passions run high, there is murder brewing at Follymead.