This is the story of a murder that another man planned, still another did, and one that I dream about. It is a murder that I might have done. It's also the story of a man named Morgan Harper Stimmes."" Read on--who can stop--about Morgan Stimmes, the dinosaur, a war correspondent with a splashy bravura, a practical joker whose games are now played from beyond the grave when Ken Leeds, his executor (he's the dreamer left with the nightmare) is left to carry out his last wishes. He's to be the curator of Stimmes' book and of his wife, the ""demi-demoiselle"" Elizabeth with a carnal innocence. But along with the recorded words, there are posthumous letters which anticipate what will happen, the saturnine perversities, unexplained identities (a prowler? a presence?) which complete the story of a man named Morgan Harper Stimmes. . . . Except for some overly complicated confusion at the end, suprasuspense, startling, insidious, insinuating, for the readership of say David Ely's Seconds.