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She doesn't flinch, just gives a shake of her long blond hair and says, "You're Sam Spade?
" Dropping my feet to the floor I looked at her from under my gray fedora.
But still there is something about her, something that makes me want to help her.
Sniffling through a hankie she replies, "Two days ago. He never came home." It was as if someone turned on the faucet with those last four words.
" The more I look at her the more I become aware that this dame is out of place.
A high class broad like her coming in here to find a missing brother is about as likely as me winning the lottery, and seeing I don't play the lottery then the odds of that happening are damn slim.
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Then she walks in just as I threw, the dart missing her by a fraction on an inch.
She fiddles with her purse for a moment before pulling out a small perfume bottle, spraying it on her neck and against both inner wrists.
"Don't think badly of me for carrying on like that." She leans forward in the chair and the squeak is louder this time.
When she sat in the chair it gave the slightest of squeaks and my ears perked up but I manage to keep the surprise from showing on my face.
As she lifts a tissue to her eyes to dab at them I think to myself, "The only one that had ever made that chair squeak before was Fat Johnny and he was well over 400 pounds of lard." She offers a snapshot to me and when I do not reach out to take it she laid it on the desk. Alvin..." She sniffs a few times making a big production of it, "He's missing...