One-armed shamus Dan Fortune returns, still imitating (classlessly) McGee and Marlowe and Archer. Hired to locate and fetch pharmaceutical king Wallace Kern's ne'er-do-well brother Bill, Fortune stumbles on dead Nestor Cebellos in Greenwich Village--the first of numerous bodies, including those of some Bolivian guerrilla pistoleros (don't ask how) and Wallace's son Brad (who escapes from jail in Mexico just to turn up dead in Texas). The blithely bloody path takes Dan south of the border and also into the bed of the ne'er-do-well's broadshouldered wife, all this while the inevitable drug-marketing denouement is waiting, waiting, waiting. Weak and knotty, but you never know, there might be a power failure some night, and there might then be someone in desperate need of a stand-in for Starsky or Hutch or Baretta. . . .