The Survivors Club [antikvár]

Eddie IT STARTED AS A CONVERSATION: "The scientists are the problem—^not the cops. Cops are just cops. Some got a nose for jelly doughnuts; others got a nose for pensions. The scientists, though I read about this case where they nailed a guy by matching the inside seam of his blue jeans with a bloody print left at the murder scene. I'm not kidding. Some expert testified that the wear pattern of denim is so individual there's something like a one-in-a-billion chance that another pair of jeans would leave the same print, yada, yada, yada. Fuckin' unreal." "Don't wear blue jeans," the second man said. The first man, a kid really, rolled his eyes. "That's fuckin' brilliant." The second man shrugged. "Before you lecture me about Calvin's sending someone to the big house, perhaps we should start with the basics. Fingerprints." "Gloves," the kid said immediately. "Gloves?" The man frowned. "And here I expected something much more innovative coming from you." "Hey, gloves are a pain in the ass, but then agam, so is serving time. What else are you gonna do?"