Mrs. Zuppa was coming in from bingo just as I was leaving the building. "Looks like you're going to work," she said, leaning heavily on her cane. "What are you packin'?" "A thirty-eight." "I like a nine-millimeter myself." "A nine's good." "Easier to use a semiautomatic after you've had hip replacement and you walk with a cane," she said. One of those useful pieces of information to file away and resurrect when I turn eighty-three.

How many times have I told you not to hit people in the face. You kick them in the body where it doesn't show.

How was your day?" Morelli asked me. "Oh, you know, the usual. Stole a truck. Blew up a building, and brought seven monkeys home with me.

Since I write in first person and have no idea what goes on in men's heads.

Who's the best person you know. Of all the people you know personally, is there anyone who has a sense of right and wrong and lives by it? This was a sticky question because it would have to be Ranger ...but I suspected he occasionally killed people. Only bad people, of course, but still...

She doesn’t know,” Cate said. “Kellen is a secret. I didn’t think my mother would approve.” “Why wouldn’t your mother approve?” Pugg asked. “It’s my job,” Kellen said. “I kill people. It pays well, but it’s not universally socially acceptable.

I don't want my readers slowed down by long passages of narrative.