Sometimes, doing the wrong thing is the exact right thing.
The symphony's timpanist is murdered onstage at music hall. Timp mallets shoved through eyes. Retribution of biblical proportions.
Retired homicide detective Trueman “True” North knew death like he had a PhD from the Grim Reaper. He takes a case from the richest man in town, St. John Skidmore, to find out who murdered his son, Stoddard Skidmore. True thinks this will be another by-the-book investigation. He doesn’t count on the meddling of Skidmore’s daughter, Kitty, nor that of Skidmore’s ruthless business competitor. Even the orchestra that hired Stoddard has more phantoms than an opera.
In the land of the uber-rich, True learns, “And Justice For All” doesn’t apply. Some people want to buy him off, warn him off or seduce him to prevent him from finding the truth. Some will challenge North to hang on to his notion of what is just — not to mention his girlfriend as well as his life. If he doesn’t find the killer, an innocent man will rot in prison and a murderer walks.
When True does find the killer, that knowledge inverts all his ideas of justice when you arrive at the intersection of vengeance and mercy. He learns that the system is flawed when being rich and powerful outweigh verity. And sometimes, he learns, doing the wrong thing is the exact right thing.