e angled his wheels hard and skidded to a stop inside the garage. We got out of the cab and I handed him three bucks. I took Miss Weintraub by the arm and led her into the tunnel.
"Where does this go?"
"To the lobby of the Saint Francis," I said.
"I never knew this tunnel was here."
"I'm hoping your friends don't know about it either."
As soon as we gained the lavish lobby I took a short breather, reaching for a cigarette. Then I remembered they were still on my desk, and with the girl holding my arm, I headed for the cigar counter. The man in the gray suit was smoking a cigar and leaning against the counter. His leathery face wore a wide grin. He lifted the brim of his hat, pulled it down again.
"Oh, there you are, Miss Weintraub."
"Where's your friend?" I asked pleasantly, hiding my chagrin.
"He's outside waiting in the car, but we aren't taking you along. I'd like to, but it's a private party. Some other time, maybe."
He was cocky, well pleased
For me this writer is just as good as Hammett or Chandler. This pulp noir story follows a small time private detective through a hellish journey when he is hired by a mysterious woman. I was gripped from the first page to the last and urge any curious reader to give this short novel a chance.
Witty, captivating and good descriptive story line!
