In the late autumn, down windy streets raining yellow oak and elm leaves, I went to George Armit's funeral. It was a small affair. Almost everyone George had known was dead. Many of them were dead because George had had them killed...' Jack Irish however, has no shortage of friends. Jockeys and journos, lawyers and standover men, people in nameless occupations who aren't in the phone book. These days, though, the only family he sees are Irish men in faded football team photographs on the pub wall. So when Des Connors, the last link to his father, calls to ask for help in the matter of a missing son, Jack is happy to lend a hand. But sometimes prodigal sons go missing for a reason. As Jack begins to dig, he discovers that Gary Connors was a man with something to hide. And his friends are people with darker and more deadly secrets.