Itís opening game of the football season at Florida Field, and Monk
DeVane, a former teammate of Zack Chasteenís, invites Zack and his
girlfriend to a halftime party in one of the exclusive skyboxes. But
they find chaos---thereís a bomb under the chair of Darcy Whitehall,
Monk Devaneís boss and the rakish Jamaican owner of Libido, a chain of
anything-goes Caribbean resorts.
The bomb turns out to be a dud,
but someone is putting the squeeze on Darcy Whitehall, and Monk DeVane
enlists Zack to help protect his employer. When Zack arrives in Jamaica
things quickly go to hell---more bombs (this time, for real), gnarly
Jamaican politics, and the kinky diversions at Libido, where the prime
spectator sport is watching guests frolic on the naked flume ride. As if
that werenít enough, Zackís snooping around puts him in jeopardy with
Freddie Arzghanian, king of the Caribbean money launderers.
Suspenseful, laugh-out-loud funny, and with larger-than-life characters, Jamaica Me Dead is Bob Morris at his wicked best.