"Reginald Hill blends civility and madness in a most agreeable way."--New York Love, or at least pornography, was for sale at the arty Calliope Kinema Club on posh, proper Wilkinson Square. According to Yorkshire police superintendent Dalziel, it was all legal. Detective Peter Pascoe, however, sat uneasily in the dark. His dentist, who knew real broken teeth and blood when he saw them, insisted that the pretty actress wasn't playing a part. But the action that would put Pascoe into the picture was homicide. The sudden death of the Calliope's proprietor soon turned a sleazy sex flick into serious police business. And now Dalziel and Pascoe were looking into the all-too-human desire for pain, pleasure . . . and murder. "First-rate entertainment."--The Sunday Times (London) "Mr. Hill refines his own talent to the highest levels of mystery fiction."--Dallas Morning News "Reginald Hill has raised the classical British mystery to new heights."--The New York Times Book Review