The murder of a washed-up B-movie actress takes a costar on a bittersweet journey down memory lane.
Before WWII, ruggedly handsome John Ray Horn starred in a handful of lesser studio westerns. After a stint in the army and a misstep that resulted in prison, Horn is working as the sidekick to Joseph Mad Crow, another former actor. Between his casino, his remote ranch, and his wild teenage daughter Cassie, Mad Crow has his hands full. He relies on Horn like a brother, especially when the righteous duo is investigating the occasional murder (Clea’s Moon, 2003). While exacting justice on two rednecks who assaulted Cassie, Horn and Mad Crow run into Rose Galen, once Horn’s costar, now years past her salad days. So changed is she by drink and hard times that he barely recognizes her. Living in the ramshackle Rook House, she scrapes together a living on the wrong side of the law. The couple reminisce awkwardly, and Horn extends a helping hand, but too late to prevent someone from brutally killing Rose. Under the circumstances, finding the murderer seems the least he can do. But the investigation means unearthing painful skeletons from his past, tangling with police detective Luther Coby, and keeping an eye on Cassie, who thinks she can solve the crime herself.
Melancholy, evocative prose and roman à clef subplots from the heyday of the Hollywood studios effectively create split-level nostalgia.