Jess a un problème. Elle doit écrire une lettre à Édouard, son correspondant français qui va séjourner chez elle. Les choses seraient nettement plus faciles si Édouard était une fille... Le pire, c'est qu'elle doit joindre une photo ! Avec sa face de lune, au secours ! Mais Fred, le meilleur ami de Jess, devrait pouvoir l'aider... Quant à Édouard, sera-t-il à l'image du Français de ses rêves, "yeux noirs et lèvres boudeuses" ?
I wrote this account one year after I'd found Hannah dead. I thought I'd managed to erase all traces of that night within myself. But I was wrong. Every night when I tried to sleep, I'd close my eyes and see her again, exactly as I found her, hanging from a pine tree by an orange elctrical cord, her neck twisted like a tulip stem, her eyes seeing nothing. Or else that was the problem. They'd seen everything. This mesmerizing debut, uncannily uniting the trials of a postmodern upbringing with a murder mystery, heralds the arrival of a vibrant new voice in literary fiction.
Sunshine State trivia buff Serge A. Storms loves eliminating jerks and pests. His drug-addled partner Coleman loves cartoons. Hot stripper Sharon Rhodes loves cocaine, especially when purchased with rich dead men's money. On the other hand, there's Sean and David, who love fishing and are kind to animals -- and who are about to cross paths with a suitcase filled with $5 million in stolen insurance money. Serge wants the suitcase. Sharon wants the suitcase. Coleman wants more drugs . . . and the suitcase. In the meantime, there's murder by gun, Space Shuttle, Barbie doll, and Levi's 501s. In other words, welcome to Tim Dorsey's Florida -- where nobody gets out unscathed and untanned!