Ex-cop Rushmore McKenzie races assorted lowlifes in a rush for ill-gotten gold.
Poor Frank Nash. The criminal also known as Jelly masterminded a really cool bank heist in 1933 Minnesota, netting $8 million in gold bars, and then, before he had time to spend it, got rubbed out gangland style. Which means, of course, that somewhere in St. Paul there’s buried treasure. At least that’s the story told to McKenzie, the one-time cop that an insurance windfall converted into a millionaire. The storytellers are the lovely Ivy Flynn and her unlovely lover Josh Berglund, to whom McKenzie takes an instant dislike. Still, Ivy’s an old chum, a very pretty old chum. And as followers of this series (Dead Boyfriends, 2007, etc.) know, McKenzie is ever susceptible. Moreover, his brand of retirement needs the tang of a big-time project now and then. So he agrees to help, though it’s not absolutely clear to him why he’s being cut in until a murder makes him realize that his partners aren’t alone in the hunt. Bad guys who mean business are in the mix too, and whether he likes it or not, McKenzie has hired on as muscle. So is Jelly’s treasure fool’s gold, or is it really hidden somewhere, gathering gold dust while it waits to be found?
A clever entertainment driven by an amiable protagonist—Housewright’s best in quite a while.