I pictured this story in cinematic detail; black and white, with the the occassional flash of a pale green gimlet or blood red manicure. The dialogue is razor sharp. Marlowe is the master of the put-down punchline. Quick-draw sarcasm and withering retorts are his forte, which, along with piercing intuition and intelligence, keep him just above the fray. If he takes a personal interest in a case he’s tenacious in tracking down the truth, however inconvenient the truth may be. The scenarios are preposterous, and the plot devices obvious, but that does not detract from the pleasure of watching the detective heed his own conscience, do right by a friend, and uncover the dirty laundry and lies of the filthy rich in Los Angeles at the mid-century.