Who murdered Momma? The cops called it an accident. But attorney Randy Roberts knew the smell of murder. Someone had taken old lady Birrel for an unwilling ride off the edge of a cliff, and with five million bucks to gain, all clues pointed to the batty gal's daughters as the prime suspects.

But who'd grown impatient first? Hannah, the mousy, fearful vegetable of a woman with king-sized lusts? Or Rhoda, the splendidly stacked nympho whom the family kept chained in a basement cell? Or was it Ruth, the smouldering hunk of sex and cynicism whose interest in Roberts' briefs was more than just legal? Finding the truth, Roberts knew, called for the most intimate of investigations. The kind you undertake with your defenses up - and your clothes off.