I finished Ngaio Marsh's 'Opening Night'. And goodness me, what a marathon of tedium it turned out to be. A highly uninteresting death, too many lacklustre motives held by two-dimensional characters and a deeply unconvincing love story to top it all of.
Alleyn turned up very near the end and seemed as bored with the proceedings as I was. I can't blame him. He was simply going through the motions, didn't even seem to do any deducing - just collected the facts and somehow (it wasn't explained very well) arrived at the solution. As far as I could make out it was a case of, 'right there's the story and - enny meeny miny mo - he's the culprit... bam... I'm going home.'
By the end I neither knew nor cared who the killer was. I strongly advise against ever trying to read this book or listen to the audio version. I'll save you the bother. ** spoiler alert ** The playwright did it.
On to the next one.