By Ross Macdonald
Whilst Lew Archer is employed to get the products at the suspiciously artful Frenchman who is run off along with his client's female friend, it feels like an easy case of alienated affections. issues glance various whilst the mysterious foreigner seems to be hooked up to a seven-year-old suicide and a mountain of playing accounts. Black Money is Ross Macdonald at his best, baring the cranium underneath the untanned pores and skin of Southern California's excessive society.
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Additional resources for Black Money (Vintage Crime Black Lizard)
She sighed. " "Will you promise me one thing then? Will you try to handle yourself without spoiling matters for Ginny? The thing she has with Francis Martel is very bright and shining, and very new. " "It's real, believe me. Francis Martel worships the ground she walks on. " Her blue eyes, impervious till now, winced away from mine. "You have no right to ask such questions. " "I've had about enough of you and your innuendoes, Mr. " She stood up. It was a dismissal. 4 I WENT NEXT DOOR to the Jamieson house.
He turned off the ignition and dropped his hands. " He was silent while his malleable face went through new adjustments. " He reached into his pocket for something, probably a dimestore badge, then changed his mind. "I don't have one," he admitted. "I'm just a kind of amateur dick, you might say, looking into something for a friend. " "Maybe we can make a deal after all. " He got out his worn billfold and handed me a Photostat. HARRY HENDRICKS 10750 Vanowen, Apt. 12 Canoga Park, Calif. SEX M COLOR HAIR brn COLOR EYES blu HEIGHT 5' 9 " WEIGHT 165 MARRIED no DATE OF BIRTH Apr 12 1928 AGE 38 From the lower left-hand corner a photograph of Harry grinned at me.
A man was sunk in an armchair by the windows, reading a book. His hair was gray and his face was very nearly the same colorless color. When he took off his reading glasses and peered up at me, I could see that his look was faint and faraway. Half of a highball stood on a low table beside him, and close at hand on a larger table were a bottle of bourbon and a pitcher of water. I caught the housekeeper glaring at the highball and the bottle as if they represented everything she hated. She had violent black eyes, and she looked like a good hater.
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