When a chain called Wingdom Come opens in Welvin, the town loses its mind. Families line up for hours. Neighbors chant for "just one more basket." Even Ronald cannot resist the glazed glow of the fryer.

Frank Peniston knows better. The wings are not food. They are a contract written in grease. And when the head chef turns up dead in a pool of sauce, Frank realizes the truth. Wingdom Come is lacing its product with something addictive, something dangerous, something that makes people surrender their will for another bite.

Someone sinister working for Wingdom Come is turning Welvin into their first "experimental" test market. The more baskets the people eat, the bigger the company quarterly bonuses.

Frank and Ronald will not let that happen. To take the chain down, they will fight through napalm geysers of sauce, battles with glazed-eyed servers, and a finale where fryer oil and bullets fly across the kitchen like confetti. Ronald will break chairs over cultists. Frank will fire his infinite-ammo Glock until the vats boil. And somewhere in the chaos, they will face one last, greasy truth about hunger and control.

Hot Wings, Cold Blood is Book 22 of the Frank Peniston Mysteries, a series packed with satirical detective parody, over-the-top pulp action, and absurd noir comedy. If you like your mysteries spiced with conspiracy, drenched in dark humor, and served with explosions, this is your next basket.