The Long Goodbye
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Marlowe befriends a down on his luck war veteran with the scars to prove it. Then he finds out that Terry Lennox has a very wealthy nymphomaniac wife, who he's divorced and re-married and who ends up dead. and now Lennox is on the lam and the cops and a crazy gangster are after Marlowe.
Americanos slugged Lennox from behind. Then he took the Mauser pistol and opened up one of the cartridges and took out the bullet and put the cartridge back in the breech. Then he put this gun to Lennox’s temple and pulled the trigger. It made a nasty-looking wound, but it did not kill him. Then he was carried out on a stretcher covered up and well hidden. Then when the American lawyer arrived, Lennox was doped and packed in ice and kept in a dark corner of the carpinteria where the man was
that about? “And you have to know them for that,” she added gently. “Goodbye, Mr. Marlowe. If you should change your mind—” She opened her bag quickly and gave me a card—“and thank you for being here.” She nodded to Spencer and walked away. I watched her out of the bar, down the glassed-in annex to the dining room. She carried herself beautifully. I watched her turn under the archway that led to the lobby. I saw the last flicker of her white linen skirt as she turned the corner. Then I eased
it. You got to kiss her the other night. Probably fancy yourself as a fast worker, but you’re wasting your time, bud. Even if you had the right kind of polish.” I tried to move around him but he blocked me with a solid shoulder. “Don’t hurry away, old man. We like you around. We get so few private dicks in our house.” “I’m the one too many,” I said. He hoisted the glass and drank from it. When he lowered it he leered at me. “You ought to give yourself a little more time to build resistance,”
light from his open door reflected against the high ceiling and I could see the top foot of his doorway. I cut all the lights except in one standing lamp and crossed to the study. The door was shut but two lamps were lit, a standing lamp at the end of the leather couch and a cowled desk lamp. The typewriter was on a heavy stand under this and beside it on the desk there was a disorderly mess of yellow paper. I sat in a padded chair and studied the layout. What I wanted to know was how he had cut
shrubbery the owner had allowed to mask the windows. I put a lamp on and mooched a cigarette. I lit it. I stared down at him. I rumpled my hair which was already rumpled. I put the old tired grin on my face. “What the hell’s the matter with me sleeping such a lovely morning away? Ten-fifteen, huh? Well, there’s plenty of time. Let’s go out to the kitchen and I’ll brew some coffee.” “I’m in a great deal of trouble, shamus.” Shamus, it was the first time he had called me that. But it kind of went