Calypso King George could kill'em with his biting, satirical lyrics and bouncy Caribbean crooning. Then someone killed George---blasting his brains all over the sidewalk with a .38 Smith & Wesson. And when the same weapon sent the King's main squeeze C. J. to hooker heaven, the cops of the 87th Precinct realized they were after more than just an irate music-hater. They were chasing a relentless psychopath who would conga them down a grisly trail of deviant sex, sadism and slaughter before his final terrifying refrain.
This is #33 in An 87th Precinct Novel.