Willie Lee is a highly unusual angel. Irreverent, hilarious, and politically incorrect to the extreme, he tends to make the most of his time on Planet Earth whenever he gets sent down as a detective in the Paradise Police Department, Lost Souls Division, to re-inhabit the body that was woefully lost to him when some misguided stranger put a bullet through the back of his pretty head, four years, eight months, and fifteen days ago.
Now Willie’s on the trail of a beautiful art dealer named Fernanda Shore who may have stolen her father’s prized painting and who’s wandered far off the straight and narrow. Not that Willie’s complaining. He’s looking for any excuse to extend his investigation in any direction that enables him to prolong his time away from the boring clouds and back in his old body on earth. Which partially explains the belly dancers, the fine Western apparel, the Albanian terrorists, the cape, the bourbon, the nuns, and the cliffs of Acapulco.
Because for Willie it’s the et cetera that makes life worth living, as long and as hard as they’ll let him. And in the meantime he might just figure out who shot him.