The Mile High Club Book

What do you call someone who refers to any given objet as a "dingus," takes calls on a "blower," takes a "Nixon" rather than moving his bowels, and uses "ankles" as a verb? Try Kinky "Big Dick" Friedman, the fictional star of The Mile High Club, 1999's Spanking Watson, and 11 earlier amateur detective novels by the real-life musician-turned-novelist Kinky Friedman. As The Mile High Club opens, the Kinkster is holding forth with his gorgeous Middle Eastern seatmate, Khadija, on a flight from Dallas to New York City. As the plane begins its landing approach, Khadija rises to visit the loo, neither returning to her seat nor deplaning with the rest of the passengers. And Kinky's left holding her bag.

Unable to reach her and intrigued by several callers claiming that they, in fact, had Khadija's bag, Kinky and his real private-eye friend, Rambam, (Rambam, writer Mike McGovern and the Watson-like Ratso are the series's "Village Irregulars") jimmy open the bag to find, among other things, a vibrator.

"It has three gears apparently."

"Does it have four-wheel drive?"

"We have some slinky black lace panties, stockings, and lingerie."

"Many terrorists shop at Victoria's Secret."

"We have men's socks, undershirts, underwear."

"Boxers or briefs?"

"Extremely brief briefs. Khadija may be a little kinky. Pardon the expression."

"If that's all that's in there, what's the big fuss about? That's pretty much standard contents for most carryon luggage when the final destination is the Village."

"Yes, but they don't all include this," said Rambam, holding up a large plastic Baggie full of enough passports to make a customs agent put in for overtime.

And so it jauntily goes until its nifty surprise ending. Here, as in earlier cases, the plot is marginal and intentionally laughable. It's the straight man, really, enabling Kinky's well-done paeans to Sherlock Holmes, Dashiell Hammett, and Raymond Chandler, his three-page dissertations on outdoor urination, ruminations on Talmudic proscriptions against indoor nail-clipping, and, most appreciably, his obvious facility and fascination with the language. --Michael Hudson