The Defence (Eddie Flynn, #1)

by Steve Cavanagh

I wasn’t there when he died. In his hospital room, I’d held his frail, skeletal hand in mine for eleven hours and then got up and left to get a soda from the machine. When I got back, I saw my mom waiting for me at the door to his room. I knew he was dead.

Bow ties spell danger to trial lawyers; no one is more strident in their views than a man in a bow tie.

My dad told me you can’t con an honest man, but the hard part was getting the dishonest mark to trust you. Good fraud was all about trust.

Octogenarians and serious Mafia men—they kept the manufacturers of comfortable American shoes in business.

In my rearview mirror, I saw Hanna Tublowski drop the letter and open the bag, spilling some of her nine hundred thousand dollars onto the pavement.