When someone rich dies. that's when you see people's true colours.
Joe Eliseon knows it and doesn't hide the fact that greed is the motivation, even in times of grief.
Putts aint fooled by those crocodile tears.
This is a snarky account of the big land grab.
'I'm going to buy a house.'
Putts runs into that copywriter who courted the gay pianists.
'He only played with him every Saturday with an eye on inheritance.'
The copywriter was able to buy a nice house in a Sydney neighbourhood.
It was the lottery.
He played it well.
That's what Putts would say if he really did have a law firm down under.
But what happens when the inherited money is cursed? What happens when the arbitrator dies?
This is where the farce enters the paranormal.
Lawyers holding hands with clients over an Ouija board, sounds insane right, but as Joe writes, lawyers aren't the most morally and upstanding citizens of society, so why not partake in a bit of a witchery to help the deal go down.
He was dying on his deathbed. Luke controlled who visited John. The will had already been sold. Six weeks later, John's friends would go to the house and fight over old Victorian furniture. The house in a posh part of town was sold and Luke took the lion's share of Mr Champ's wealth.
He travelled the world with a butler.
Luke played it well.
Even better than the copywriter.
Who would have thought there was so much money involved?
Lawyers, they know their numbers. If they wanted to be nice guys, they'd have taken up a career at the Boeing factory in Seattle and drink Coors down at the river on weekends.
Where's the money in that, Putts would ask?
'But it's not right.'
'That's an abstraction. You think it's unethical? There's not a word in the Code of Professional Responsibility about this. Is there, Sy."
Are you sold yet?
There's always dotty, cranky, batty little old rich ladies in Joe's books.
You can see he's spent a lot of time in Cape Cod.
Believable, quirky, this is real life. Go to any uptown cafe in an old or new town, the record will still play the same old tune. It's just that Joe has the ear for it and doesn't mind sending it up in his comedy series.
'Curled up at the foot of the bed, Jake, their Jack Russel terrier, growled.'
I felt I had a front-row seat.
Maury, Putts wife, is the sane one of the two and if you are looking for ballast, she'll provide it. She's also fond of reminding Putts of his bulk. She ain't one for mincing words.
Putts might be a big guy but carries himself with aplomb. Snarkey, his partner in the firm, is your typical sleazebag lawyer, all show, no form. Someone must have pissed off Joe at the law firm, it's it great to see him getting revenge with this send-up.
If a lawyer can't send up a lawyer, then where's the fun in that?
This aint The Firm, it's so much better. If you can't send up your own kind, then who can you send up?
Didn't you just say that?
Yep, but I liked it so much I said it again.
Click this link to buy the book Snarkey & Putts: Paranormal Attorneys-At-Law: Book I: The Case of the Undead Arbitrator
