Some cute little woman/girl from Kansas or Oklahoma or somewhere out there comes into Marlowe's office and asks him to find her brother who isn't sending any more letters home.
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So I kissed her. It was either that or slug her.
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"...I am not one of these synthetic blondes with a skin you could strike matches on. These ex-laundresses with large boney hands and sharp knees and unsuccessful breasts.
Marlowe meets some guy who eventually dies, or doesn't, and another guy who definitely dies. And some women, two of who die, and one who doesn't. Somewhat confusing, couldn't keep the women straight. I think two of them were sisters. Not sure. Good read!
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A slice of spumoni wouldn't have melted on her now.