Jack Dwyer--Midwestern ex-cop, sometime security guard, and sometime actor--is once again (as in New, Improved Murder) lured into a tangle of sex and violence by an old flame. This time it's high-school sweetheart Karen Lane, a selfish and opportunistic femme fatale, ""some kind of combination of Audrey Hepburn and Benito Mussolini."" Karen begs Dwyer to retrieve her suitcase from the condo of her latest sugar-daddy, an elegant black psychiatrist; the suitcase is gone, however, and the psychiatrist is the victim of a recent robbery-assault. So: what precious commodity was in the suitcase? Well, Dwyer hardly has a chance to find out--because just hours later Karen drops dead in his arms, while they're dancing at their high-school reunion. Was Karen's death a Librium/booze overdose--or foul play? Who's the woman, thug in leather who's stalking Dwyer and his girlfriend Donna? What's the link between all this mayhem and a hushed-up bygone scandal involving high-school kids, rape, and apparent suicide? Again, then, Gorman offers some awfully far-fetched convolutions before things wind up in a bloody showdown. (Dwyer triumphs, of course, but regretfully.) Also again, however, as in Gorman's better productions, Dwyer's narration is breezily sardonic enough to carry the proceedings along at a rapid, painless clip.