The Last Good Trade
## Act I The envelope was thin. That should have been my first warning. If you're going to leave a son money, you don't do it in an envelope that a stiff breeze could carry away. You buy a bank manager. You rent a conference room. You put on a tie. You don't hand a piece of paper to a grieving son in a church hallway smelling of lilies and regret. But Frank Morano didn't believe in ceremony. He...
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