Death by Dancing

I’ll admit, I picked this up skeptical that a ‘cozy’ mystery set in a dance marathon could avoid feeling either too quaint or too grim. *Death by Dancing* surprised me by being both—and neither. Lee Strauss doesn’t shy away from the ugliness of 1930s exploitation (the blistered feet, the rigged judging, the way the crowd’s cheers curdle into jeers), but she wraps it in Haley Higgins’ dry, methodical perspective. Haley isn’t your typical amateur sleuth; she’s a professional who *shouldn’t* be investigating, which makes her quiet rule-breaking all the more satisfying. The mystery unfolds like a coroner’s report: clinical on the surface, but with hints of something messier beneath. Pamela Dillman’s performance sells it. She nails Haley’s no-nonsense tone, but the real delight is how she voices the marathon’s eccentrics—a washed-up vaudeville duo, a teenage runaway with a chip on her shoulder, a promoter who oozes false charm like cheap cologne. My only critique? The pacing stumbles slightly in the middle, when the marathon’s repetitive cycle (dance, collapse, repeat) mirrors the plot’s momentum a little *too* faithfully. And while the historical details are immersive, a few anachronistic phrases jolted me out of the era. Still, the payoff—a twist that hinges on both medical knowledge and human desperation—makes it worth the wait. If you love mysteries where the setting is as vivid as the crime, or narrators who can switch from icy professionalism to ragged exhaustion in a breath, this one’s a standout. Just don’t listen while *actually* dancing—it’ll ruin the fun.