A self-obsessed private detective married to a sincere wiccan is hired to witness an illegal transfer of money in a rainy cemetery that goes bloody wrong. Chasing the bad guys, he ends up the prisoner of a grusome threesome in their Dogpatchy cabin in the woods. His escape involves nudity, blood, death, and a terrible snapping turtle.
That's how the mystery begins, leading him through all the levels of Peoria society, geography, and history. Absurdly funny things happen continually in the peripheral vision of the story. No violence is left out. Greed, venality and hatred are unleashed. Unpleasant family history is brought to light. All the sex is offstage. The body count mounts steadily, with occasional mutilations. Nothing Burns in Hell is pulp fiction at its most gorgeously excessive.



