\"Jacques Moran has been eking out a living as the last detective called in the rolodex of cheap private eye options. Cruelty clings to him like a cheap aftershave; his life consumed by a love/hate relationship with a woman blindfolded to arc of wielded sword and scalable metaphysical ‘weight’. Now he is looking for a man named Molly – even as his body fails him – and voices seem to be telling him that midnight and rain will arrive soon; or maybe it is just a window into what never was - or will be.”