A week after getting his legendary rogue journalist father I.M. Fletcher to help complete and file his exposÃ‰ of the white-supremacist Tribe (Son of Fletch, 1993), Jack Fletcher Faoni is already infiltrating another shuttered little society. This time it's Vindemia, the baronial Georgia estate of Chester Radliegh, the billionaire who set physics and merchandising on their ears by inventing the perfect (non-reversing) mirror and has retired with his family to this unspoiled enclave. Chester Jr.'s fiancÃ‰e, Shana Staufel, who once spent a torrid couple of hours with Jack in Stowe, has counted four attempts on her prospective father-in-law's life and wants Jack to figure out which Vindemian might want to kill him. Going undercover as a pool boy, Jack shortly finds that Chester Sr. is a tyrant whose well-meaning manipulativeness has driven his wife to liquor and pills, his children to blackmail and sex on the wild side, and his employees to a constant diet of sneaking and lying -- not to mention the fallout for Shana, who's consoled herself for a loveless engagement by falling in love with the old man. When a fifth attempt in the Radliegh lab leaves a researcher dead, Jack redoubles his efforts to find the rottenest apple, but it's not until his own father follows him into this nest of vipers that all will be made clear -- as clear as it's ever going to be, anyway. Livelier and less routine than the last helping, but Mcdonald is still far off the pace that produced the brilliant first crop of Fletches. And the younger Fletch is the dumbest audience-broadening stunt since Paul Drake Jr.