Dotty Davis belongs to that sub-genre of hard-boiled, sleazy, overweight, boozing, and otherwise disgusting private detectives increasingly offered as protagonists working for the "betterment" of humankind. Nonetheless, exhibiting a modicum of charm through her heavy-handed humor, Dotty proceeds to wiggle her way out of several murder charges after answering a middle-of-the-night call from the male prostitute living downstairs from her.

Soon after, Dotty removed a dead, Catholic nun from his bed, someone rigs an explosion, sending the gigolo to the hospital. And then there's more dead bodies for Dotty to contend with, and both the police and a killer are looking for her.

Dotty Davis, a ball of fun with no sense of style and five-alarm outbursts, is the target of most of the jokes. But until the author puts out her fire with a bucket of vodka and her being a murder suspect, she's the novel's bliss.