Never Give A Millionaire An Even Break
Lancer, New York, 1963
(price: 40c; 144 pages)
The blurb on the back:
'Millionaires are my best customers' - Peter Chambers
I always say, it's nice to be a millionaire.
Money can buy you darn near everything.
It can buy you things you're only supposed to get for love.
It can buy you the best looking women - in a city where good looking women come high.
It can buy a professional private eye - like me - to make sure the girls stay bought.
It can buy you the most sadistic strong-arm men going - if the private eye gets too interested in his work.
Why, my millionaires can even buy a murder.
The trouble is, I never know when it's going to be my own.
When you toady about with millionaires, the bullfrog starts its croaking. There is a bullfrog in every psyche.
Chandler cast a long shadow. Check this out:
She had the longest, loveliest, shapeliest legs in the world, and she earned her living, in part, by displaying her legs. The legs were extraordinary but they were in keeping with the rest of her. On top of the legs was a torso, slender and supple, concave where it should be concave, and so convex in the spots where it should be convex as to render you dizzy just by looking; and on top of the torso was a heart-shaped face with high cheekbones, a full red mouth with the underlip slightly pouting, slanted black eyes and red hair. Something? (p.6)
She's an actress in musical comedy, the toast of Broadway. The narrator's a wise-cracking fast-talking private eye from New York who gets mixed up with her and with the two multi-millionaires who flit around her. There's not an original idea in sight, but if you like your dicks hard-boiled, you'll enjoy this one.
Also known as Don't Just Die There.
ARTISTIC MERIT: 2/5
ENTERTAINMENT VALUE: 3/5
HIPNESS QUOTIENT: 3/5