St. Germaine, North Carolina might be the most eccentric little town in the Appalachian Mountains—at least that’s what Hayden Konig, the Chief of Police thinks.
Hayden has been the chief for nineteen years. As a detective, he’s first rate. As the organist at St. Barnabas Church, he’s one of the best ivory jockeys in the county. He’s fabulously rich, has a beautiful wife, a cabin in the woods, a dog, a gun, and a pick-up truck.
What more could any red-blooded American male want? That’s easy! What he wants is to be a hard-boiled, noir, crime writer. Undeterred by what his audience calls a “conspicuous lack of talent,” Hayden Konig has purchased Raymond Chandler’s typewriter in a desperate bid to channel some of the master’s wordcraft. It doesn’t help.
It was a dark and stormy night, although Tessie, the one o’clock weather-girl on Channel Two, had nasally predicted a clear and starry night, but was once again dead wrong, chiefly due to her education (Meteorology for Blondes), her inability to read a tele-prompter, and her current preoccupation with the ever-burgeoning hope that this fellow she’d been hearing about, Doppler Radar, would ask her out on a date.
Vicar Fearghus McTavish is a Calvinist Anglican priest with strict Scottish Presbyterian leanings—not exactly the perfect interim priest for St. Barnabas. So when the church participates in the town Halloween carnival, it’s only a matter of time before something goes terribly wrong. Suddenly there’s a dead body, and Hayden Konig has his hands full with a Congregational Enlivener, the Zombies of Easter Walk, and a town packed with adolescent vampires. “Hey,” says Hayden, “what’s the worst that can happen...?”