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Junior’s back and he’s got one foot in the worst aspect of the sixties—some of the lamest rock and roll ever inflicted upon the world. That’s the sound track to Little Elvises.
He’s forced by a corrupt cop to go to the rescue of an old record producer, a guy who, in the sixties, grabbed handsome boys off of Philadelphia stoops and turned them into little Elvises for six months or a year, until the fans got tired of them. A supermarket-tabloid journalist has been murdered on Hollywood Boulevard and the cops think the music producer did it because -- well, because he was scouting for a hit man. The producer swears that somebody else got to the journalist first. So the story takes Junior into the arena of old-time rock-and-roll, missing persons, the world’s oldest still-dangerous gangster, a murderer of young women, and a terrifying if somewhat hapless hit man named Fronts.
There’s even a love interest for Junior. Well, a serious-like interest, anyway. We’ll see whether it’s love in book three.
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