A highly inaccurate vision. A grumpy writer. And a corpse. Welcome to Starry Falls. Running from the mob can be murder. Confession. I'm no psychic. But I can sort of see the future-albeit not accurately. And you better believe, I've never let that little detail stop me from prognosticating my way into a pickle. So when I ticked off the mob, the feds, and my wily ex, I decided to take my Uncle Vinnie's advice and start over with a new name...