After a few delays, and without the benefit of a rehearsal, it looks like Fletch is finally getting hitched. It's a small affair—just a few friends, the bride's parents, the groom's mother, and, just maybe, his father. Except Fletch's father is supposed to be dead.

But somebody delivered the letter, signed Fletch Sr. and containing an invitation and a pair of plane tickets, to visit the old man in Nairobi for the honeymoon—never mind that Fletch and his bride were planning a ski trip to Colorado.

No sooner does the couple land in Africa—togged out for skiing!—than the search for Fletch's father begins. There's a murder at the airport, reports of the old man's incarceration, and the hospitality, and evasiveness, offered by pop's best friend, who flies them across the continent just a step or two behind (or maybe ahead of) the old rascal.