The Woodstock Murders: (Or Happiness Is a Naked Policeman)

Suddenly through the trees came the crunch, crunch, crunch of someone running. In a few seconds a man appeared and came to a halt in their mist. He was tall, handsome and muscular. He was also soaking wet from his dripping hair to his glistening toenails. And he was clothed only in a towel of modest size.

"Don't anyone touch anything", said the man. "Name's Wilder...state police.". He reached into his inside jacket pocket for his badge and identification.

Except he wasn't wearing his jacket. And he reached with his right hand. The towel fell to the ground.

They all turned away. All, that is, except Buddy Keepman. His jaw dropped and he just stared -- thunderstruck. "Whatever you say, officer", he said in a hushed, throaty voice.

Meet Senior Investigator Thomas Jamison Wilder: very intelligent, very handsome -- and very gay. Someone in Woodstock has just taken a weedcutter to Lucille Driver, the wife and mother of three of the most devious men in town. As someone continues to knock off the entire Driver clan, Tom and Buddy must juggle their busy love life with solving the case, before the death count gets any higher.

Packed with all the camp of a Broadway musical and all the thrill of a mystery, as bitingly funny as Robert Rodi, but with all the intrigue found in a Joseph Hansen novel, The Woodstock Murders will delight and challenge any mystery buff.