Bunty has been a model wife but now, on her 41st birthday, she is alone and contemplating a dreary next half-century. . . her detective husband is out on a case. She goes to a roadhouse and meets a kindred spirit. Luke (only he's an under-thirty); they commiserate with each other until she discovers a dead body in the back of his car. In spite of his, Luke's, later attempt on her life she believes him innocent; justifiably when a gang of the real murder's catches up and there's a shoot-out exceeded in its stupidity only by the idiocy of this story.