Publisher's Synopsis
Allhoff snatched the money up from the desk. He hurled it to the floor. He pushed his swivel chair out into the center of the room, revealing a pair of leather stumps attached to his thighs where his knees should have begun. His voice rose through the heat of the room like shrill thunder. "Get out!" he yelled. "Damn you! Get out! You grinning, blatant smug-ugly. I want neither your filthy money nor your murder case. I don't want your lousy artificial legs either. I lost my legs honorably, in the line of duty. I'll not be mocked about it. Pick up your money and get out of here. Get Out! Get Out! Or, by God, I'll arrest you."
