There's rain. Mean Motels. Big tree secrets.
Meet Irwin-hard-boiled, not quite right, and allergic to saying no. When a case lands in his lap, it comes with body doubles, hidden rooms, hidden motives, and a trail that runs from the Vegas glare to the northwest mist. Along the way: greasy diners, dive bars, cabs and cuties, lawyers, burner phones that won't die, detention hall truths, desert heat, cliffside confessions, tropical lies, monsters (the human kind... mostly), influencers chasing clout, and the occasional sasquatch rumour just to keep things weird.
There are guns. There are bros. There are strip-club meets and artisanal cakes and breads.
And somewhere under the rain and internet? A secret nobody wants found.
This book plays like black-and-white cinema with a 1950s jazz soundtrack-except the music is in your head, because... it's a book.
Irwin took the case.
You get to take the ride.