At a dime a dozen, I’m going broke handing out excuses for my dad. The name on the door says “JD Pierson, Investigator,” but most days the chair behind his desk is empty. It’s 1936 and times are hard for everyone in Tyler, Texas, but it’s all I can do to keep the rent paid since Dad lost his way in a bottle of gin. When JD suddenly shows a moment of sober coherence, I whisk him off to his … moment of sober coherence, I whisk him off to his favorite fishing lake in the hopes I can keep him off the sauce. I wanted Dad back in the investigator game, but having an old friend turn up dead was not part of the plan.
But when a swarm of heirs swoops in we’re left wondering if his death really was an accident, or if murder is how one of them means to cash in.