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A shtikel mazel iz vert merer vi a ton gold - a Yiddish proverb that means "a little bit of luck is better than a ton of gold". But when you find a dead man wrapped in plastic in the trunk of you Cadillac, you need more than a little luck. Much more.
Avery Fish is on trial for mail fraud, but he didn't commit murder. In fact, he has absolutely no clue how a decapitated, plastic wrapped body ended up in the trunk of his caddy. Sexy, brilliant attorney Lou Mason has known Fish for years. Hell, they went to the same synagogue. Fish may be a gonif, a Yiddish term meaning thief, but he was no murderer.
The victim, already looking like an extra in a bad zombie movie, is identified as a defendant in a sexually charged lawsuit. Mason has to team up with a sharply intelligent federal agent from his past - a stunner with a hidden agenda who may be playing some serious head games of her own.
Final Judgment delivers Mason at his wise-cracking, brilliant best.
Get your copy of Final Judgment today for a thrill ride that just won't quit!
This action-packed story will consume your imagination and keep you riveted with white-knuckle intensity right to the shocking end. Goldman cleverly weaves a serious tale of murder, fraud, betrayal, and, yes, sexually charged prose.
Buy your copy of Final Judgment now - the fifth book in the riveting Lou Mason thriller series.
If you like to romp through the pages of authors like Turow, Kellerman, Fairstein, and Childs, you won't want to miss Final Judgment.
"A page-turner of the highest caliber." ~Michael Connelly, Best Selling Crime Author
Don't miss the other 4 books in the Lou Mason Thriller Series: Motion to Kill, The Last Witness, Cold Truth, and Deadlocked.
Still wanting more? Try the 3 riveting Jack Davis Thrillers and the first Alex Stone Thriller. You'll need to clear your schedule because you won't want to put these books down!
devoted to the defense against claims made by the Carol Hills of the world. She parlayed her own good looks and charm in a male-dominated world, happily taking every advantage, God-given or otherwise. Though she could defend these cases in her sleep, she didn’t, taking nothing for granted and screwing down every fact and inconsistency. She lived by the Al Davis rule—just win, baby. She dismissed Carol’s accusations and Bongiovanni’s theatrics as the romance-novel fantasy of a disturbed woman
showed up for the morning service. It was still dark when he arrived a few minutes before seven that morning. The service lasted forty-five minutes. The rabbi had buttonholed him for another fifteen minutes afterwards, making him late for his meeting with the attorneys, asking him how things were going with his case. His legal problems weren’t a secret. The media and a city full of gossips had taken care of that. He set aside the odds against a dead body showing up in the trunk of his car. It
meeting was more a formality than anything else. Good, he thought to himself. Things work out if you give them a chance and work the right angles. That had always been his philosophy. He took a deep breath, put the Cadillac in gear, and tried not to think about the body in the trunk. TWO Fish was in sales. Buy, sell, trade. He didn’t always own what he sold. He didn’t always pay for what he bought, and he didn’t always have what he traded. These were business risks that he managed through
represent Avery Fish. I would have been here earlier except the police stopped by to tell me that an employee of one of my clients was found dead in the trunk of your client’s car. Is our meeting a coincidence or were you looking for me?” “Your client asked me the same thing not ten minutes ago.” “Al and I are sitting at the same table tonight. I’ll have to remind him not to talk to lawyers. What did you tell him?” He smiled. She didn’t. He cocked his head, tried the smile again. She didn’t
the senator.” She gathered her clothes, dressing with nonchalance as though they were an old married couple, and kissed him, neither noticing their sour morning breath. “Tonight,” she said. “Dinner, enchanting conversation, and a real bed.” “I’ll bring the conversation. You bring the bed.” “Deal. I love you,” she said and left. He turned on the rest of the lights and saw his calendar for the day. Dinner—Samantha Greer—birthday. “Shit!” he said, snatching a dart off his desk and flinging it