IN THE BEGINNING, THERE WAS BANYON INVESTIGATIONS, INC...
Crag Banyon just wants a little peace and quiet to go along with his bourbon, but as usual his prayers go unanswered. This time trouble comes in the ethereal form of a desperate guardian angel who wings his way through the front door of Banyon Investigations. Banyon's would-be client has been given the slip by a nihilist charge; a human being wholly uninterested in holy intervention, and the sad-sack seraph needs Banyon's help to track the MIA unbeliever down.
Banyon has cracked bigger cases than this, and he thinks he knows the drill chapter and verse. But that's before the arrival on the scene of a heavily armed heavenly host, a mysteriously happy and incredibly well-rested populace, and a delicious-smelling shadow of doom circling the city.
The deeper Banyon digs, the more he regrets not taking that job at the florist shop. In the end, the only great mystery of the universe he wants to solve is how many P.I.'s can pass out on the head of pin or, if a pin is unavailable, the nearest vacant bar stool. Unfortunately for Crag Banyon, P.I., the cosmos, cosmology and probably cosmetology have bigger plans, most seeming to revolve around killing him dead.
...AND IT WAS: "RUDE SERVICE," "INVESTIGATOR APPEARED DRUNK, REPEATEDLY," "OVERALL 'F' RATING." (INFORMATION COURTESY THE BETTER BUSINESS BUREAU)