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Kindle Notes & Highlights
He hated most things about Dear Old Dad, but what he hated most was that Dear Old Dad was pretty much always right.
Howie Gersten was a type-A hemophiliac, which meant that he bled if you looked at him too hard.
Making a duplicate key from a wax impression was an extremely useful skill to have if you were the sort of person who liked invading other people’s homes and killing them.
“What can I get you today, Howie?” Helen asked, gliding up to their table. She didn’t have to ask Jazz because he always drank his coffee black with a little sugar. Howie, though, treated ordering coffee as if it were some sort of game show, where you only get points for not repeating yourself.
Jazz was no math whiz, but he figured those odds to be something like a jillion to one, to be technical about it.
“This is why I forgive, but I don’t forget. When you forget someone, the forgiveness doesn’t mean anything anymore.
