Jules Landau is an old-school private eye in the tradition of Robert Crais's Elvis Cole--a man who's making deals, making enemies, and making his mark on the Second City.
In Chicago, some neighborhoods explode in gunfire and others in gentrification--but the real money built the skyline alongside sparkling blue Lake Michigan. In one such luxury high-rise, auto-parts heiress Jackie Whitney has been bludgeoned to death, her body found neatly wrapped and tucked away on a closet shelf. Jules Landau has been hired by the public defender to get her client off the hook. The police are convinced they've got their killer, but Jules isn't so sure. The lawyer doesn't care who killed Jackie Whitney. She just wants to stir up a reasonable doubt . . . but there's nothing reasonable about this case.
While balancing a relationship with a sexy baker who keeps unholy hours--and dodging a crooked cop who wants to break his bones--Jules digs deeper into Jackie's final days. Soon he unravels a web of friendships, affairs, and money, all connected to an unlikely site for a murderous conspiracy. How can a single building hide so many secrets? For Jules, justice isn't only about the presumption of innocence. It's about the truth, and stopping a killer who will no doubt strike again.