Life has dealt part-time mystery novelist Darcy MacDonald a lousy hand. The men she knows are either missing, dead, drunk or demented. Lying next to the corpse of her boyfriend, the head of Bloodhound Investigations, definitely qualifies as lousy since he's the man who also issues her paychecks. The doctor says her boss had a massive heart attack during an orgasm and it wasn't Darcy's fault. But she can't help feeling guilty, since his orgasms were her responsibility. Or so she believed, until his grieving widow shows up, along with a mysterious, punk rocker chick who weeps inconsolably at the funeral and claims he was murdered.