The Maltese Falcon
Sam Spade, the woman
The original. Pure unadulterated pleasure. This mystery invented all the cliches still used in the crime genre. I read this when I was working in San Francisco. It was a rush going around town to be on the same street corners and alleys that the characters in the book found themselves in.
Samuel Spade's jaw was long and bony, his chin a jutting v under the more flexible v of his mouth.
Spade, looking down at his desk, nodded almost imperceptibly. ‘Yes,’ he said, and shivered. ‘Well, send her in.’
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