Harry Dickinson is a used car salesman living in Springdale, Massachusetts, who believes he is a private detective. His girlfriend, Friday, finds this charming, though she warns him not to get carried away. The local cops are becoming fed up with him. His sister and brother-in-law think he's unstable and too old for such fantasies. They want him locked up.
When Harry stumbles upon the case of a missing woman, he decides to investigate. However, the situation is far more complex-and more dangerous-than he imagines.
Turning to the authorities only makes things worse. Harry witnesses a murder, but no one believes him. With Harry and Friday on the run-hunted by the police, the killer, and even Harry's friends and relatives-their chances for survival look grim. But the man everyone believes is crazy may be the only one who can crack the case.
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From the outside, the house was unremarkable. Just one of many on an ordinary, suburban estate. But inside was a different matter. With pink ribbons and pink walls, stuffed toy animals everywhere and a dining table laid out for a tea party, it was a doll's house.
The doll was sitting at the table. Life size, with blonde, pigtailed hair and rosy red cheeks, dressed in her best pink party dress. Her finger and thumb curled round the handle of a fine china teacup.
An adult woman. Covered in blood. Eviscerated. Dead.
In all his years on the force, Detective Inspector Phil Brennan of the Major Incident Squad has never encountered a scene like it. As he investigates he uncovers more bizarre revelations and knows that he must act fast; the next murder has already been planned and the victim is closer to home that he realizes . . .