Tribute to Agatha Christie

**I am trying to do a tribute poem, any feedback about flow would be very much appreciated. On that fateful day, the music would play, for the people at Chimneys who had paid for a stay. With wine and a dance the mood would transform, from serious faces to a light hearted storm. As the night did progress, the ballroom was filled, the table a mess, and the stairway quite still. With a boom and a crash the bands start to play, the couples a plenty would dance night and day. But then in the night when the songs came to pass, the true mystery emerged at a late midnight mass. As the priest began, a woman ran in, hysterical and crying, she had word of a sin. This sin was a murder, of the brutalist kind, a real heart stopper, that can boggle the mind. She mentioned a man who had been found death white, it was easy to see he hadn’t put up a fight. And when the cop went upstairs and opened the door, he noticed something else that hadn’t been noticed before. On the floor in the room was a body gone missing, and in its place was a picture of two people kissing. The picture seemed to frame the man in the hat, who was creepy, sly, and as stealthy as a cat. And when the cop had decided it was this man, he got out the cuffs and made a plan. But before he could do so, the man he escaped, with the owner of Chimneys, who he tied up with tape. In an effort to prevent the death of another, one must step up, in this case the mother. With her intuition and smarts she solved the whole case, and arrested the man who she brought back to base. And with a smile and wave she left the station, with the pride and the support of the entire British nation.