Charlie Walsh was on his way up the ladder at the police department in McAlester, Oklahoma. In a few days, he would be a detective. But first, his power animal Clark, a crawdad from down Louisiana way, had a message for him. A banjo player out of Alderson Road had a problem. The main problem was he was dead. To Clark's mind, though, the waste of good Kentucky whiskey and a mangled banjo was a step too far.

He tried to waken his human Charlie Walsh, but Charlie was a fella who lived his life compartmentalizing every moment. When he worked, he worked. When he played, he played - sometimes on his banjo. When he slept, he slept. Clark tried to give his human dreams, but Charlie resisted. After all, sleeping was what he was doing right now, not dreaming.

When Charlie woke, he burped. Now, this isn't an uncommon thing among men, but to burp whiskey on waking when he'd only had one beer the previous night was a little unusual, to say the least. He began to remember his dream a little and then went on a Shaman journey to talk with his power animal, a Louisiana crawdad named Clark. Some poor sod died with buckshot up his ass, which, as Charlie and Clark had discussed, was a difficult shot to make. The worst event, though, was the waste of whiskey and the busted-up banjo.

As Charlie works to solve the mystery, he also has to keep his head in the game. Passing the detectives exam is the most important thing in his life. At least it is, until he finds himself falling in love with a woman and her twin girls. The girls might be only four years old, but they have specific demands and requirements for any man becoming a part of their lives.

Before the first murder is solved and Charlie's love life blooms, a second banjo and whiskey murder follows. As if that's not enough for one young man to handle, a different woman begins stalking him. Life becomes complicated quickly, and even Charlie Walsh, perhaps the world's best compartmentalizing man, is up to his ears in murder, mayhem, love, children, and bluegrass.