Kinky Friedman, the prodigal poet of country music, the novelist the Chicago Tribune called "a hip hybrid of Groucho Marx and Sam Spade," the author/musician and all-around bad ol' boy who single-handedly aims to put the "pop" back into popular fiction, has written a tale of murder, mayhem, and mental hospital slippers that is guaranteed not only to please the legion of fans who love his music, but is sure to delight readers far and wide. If you want...

Things get dicey after Kinky Friedman sends a bogus threatening note to proprietress Winnie Katz and the death threat turns all too real.

Once Kinky Friedman is finally convinced to travel to Hawaii to help find his missing friend Mike McGovern, he and his friends "Stephanie, Rambam, Hoover, and McCall set off on a perilous adventure involving ancient myths, sacrificial cults, totems, taboos, and the occasional lei."--Jacket.

It's a case of malaria versus murder when private dick extraordinaire Kinky Friedman comes down with a tropical disease, in the jungle known as New York City, and is confined to his loft on Vandam Street in lower Manhattan, a prisoner in his own home with only his cat and black puppet head as company.