It is not every day a private investigator gets an appointment to go meet with a crook risen after seven years in the grave. And take him a suitcase full of bucks from his less-than-loving wife. For Bobby Olsen, two years now into his new profession in New York, the temptation to unmask the magic behind the Lazarus-like trick is too great to ignore. And autumn 1960 gets all the more interesting when a broad sashays into the office and demands her brother's girlfriend be eyeballed for fear the long-legged dancer could be after the high-reputed family's inherited dollars. Throw in a garage owner worried his partner's invested mullah might come way of the city's lowlifes' dirty fingers and a drugstore owner hot-collared by a persistent looter of his shelves and Bobby's days are all of a sudden complicated and hectic. It is a mighty good thing then that by his side stands Carol, his partner in business and life, with her fingers twisted tight around a black Corvette's keys.But the plots threaten to darken to Stygian shades when one of the Big Apple's head honchos strides onstage for nefarious reasons difficult to discern. If the cases don't tie up fast, Bobby and Carol could exit with fatally damaged reputations and bullets flown too close for comfort.