The name's Dilbert Pinkerton, private detective. Friends call me Dill. I'm a mutant armadillo. I dig for the truth.
And the truth is I need to get out of the city, away from supernatural mobsters that want my carapace for a foot bath. So when some rich dame saunters into my Hovel Office with a job, I take it. Even if it's to retrieve a pearl necklace that's not here. I'm desperate enough, I don't even care the job sends me to Nevermore Bay.
Yeah, Nevermore Bay: the city where some wacko in a mask hurdles across rooftops; calls himself The Buzzard. Criminals are scared pantsless of him. 'Course, most people think he's a myth created by the police department.
If you ask me, that's a far more exciting mystery than some oyster's cough drops. Maybe I can kill two birds with one stone during this vacation. If, that is, I don't get killed by the police, Don Komodo's crew that's on my tail, some of The Buzzard's rogues gallery or the Buzzard, himself.