Explore "Farewell, my Lovely" by Raymond Chandler on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Halfway up the slope I looked off to the right and saw his foot. She swung the light. Then I saw all of him. I ought to have seen him as I came down, but I had been bent over, peering at the ground with the fountain pen flash, trying to read tire marks by a light the size of a quarter.
"Give me the flash," I said and reached back.