Read "Blackmailers don't Shoot" by Raymond Chandler online for free on Textopian. Full text with search, annotations, highlights, and AI-powered reading aids.
The man in the powder-blue suit-which wasn't powder-blue under the lights of the Club Bolivar-was tall, with wide-set gray eyes, a thin nose, a jaw of stone. He had a rather sensitive mouth. His hair was crisp and black, ever so faintly touched with gray, as by an almost diffident hand. His clothes fitted him as though they had a soul of their own, not just a doubtful past. His name happened to be Mallory.
He held a cigarette between the strong, precise fingers of one hand. He put the other hand flat on the white tablecloth, and said: