On a sultry summer night Murray Whelan is in the Botanic Gardens tasting Salina Fleet's apricot lips.
Meanwhile a dead artist is being fished from the ornamental moat outside the art gallery. Political minder and brushed-off lover Murray Whelan goes looking for the big picture and learns that when you dabble with death there is nothing abstract about a loaded gun.
Ended
The Brush-Off
—
—
—
—
—