Gabe Steele was down and almost out in Beverly Hills. He was riding on a motorcycle because his ex-wife got the BMW in the divorce settlement. He was on the Hollywood Grey List - he couldn't sell a script because he was over forty. And he was living on residuals from "Kojak" screenplays he had written twenty years before. The one thing Gabe Steele had right in his life was tennis - untouchable serves, killer backhands, ferocious forehands. And when he was offered the job as manager of the exclusive Beverly-West Racquet Club, suddenly all seemed right in his life. Sign a couple of bills, play a few charity sets with members, free rent, time to write - and flirt with the receptionist. All seemed right until he found the locker-room attendant dangling from the Gravity Bar on the exercise porch. Very dead. The police were ready to call it suicide and close the file on the case. Gabe had his doubts. He thought it was murder. It might have remained at this impasse if the dead man's parents hadn't accused Gabe of hounding their son into taking his own life. If Gabe was going to clear his name - and save his job - he would have to find the killer himself. His search uncovers secrets and scandals, frauds and poseurs hiding behind the curtain of affluence and luxury that is Beverly Hills. With an insider's eye for the Beverly Hills tennis scene, Arthur Marx weaves a depth of texture to a baffling, intriguing murder mystery that belongs next to those of Christie and Chandler.