Цитаты из книги Falling Angel

что я чувствовала вполне отчетливо, так это солнце и ветер на моих ногах. После целой жизни в тяжелых платьях с их юбками, словно бинтами опутывающими ноги, ощущение было невероятное.

Ее не было здесь сегодня, когда она была так мне нужна. А завтра уже не имело значения.

Взять на работу вдову — хорошее дело, она ничего особенного от жизни уже не ждет.

Моя [умершая] тетушка была бы оскорблена, узнай она о том, что я могу делать хоть что-то, не думая о ней.

My hammerless Smith & Wesson protruded from between her outspread legs, the snub barrel inserted like a lover. Her womb’s blood glistened on her open thighs, bold as roses.

I took the stairs four at a time, clinging to the railing for balance, and set a new elevator-racing record.

I loaded my black-bodied Leica with Tri-X and got the .38 out of my raincoat pocket.

“Be strong. Be bold. Know the urge to attack as well as the wisdom of retreat. When opportunity comes, seize it, as a lion seizes the fawn. Tear success out of defeat; rip it free; devour it. You are the most dangerous beast on the planet. What is there to be afraid of?”

“I am not one woman, but many. Just as you are more than one man.” “Is that voodoo?” “That’s common sense.”

“My number’s in the book if you need me.” I wasn’t about to hand my business card over to another potential corpse.

“He the butler?” I asked. “Benson is my private secretary. That’s a butler with brains.”

Her innocent expression bore no resemblance to the ecstatic grimace masking her features when she arched howling beneath me like a tigress.

Her teacup breasts rose and fell with the gentle movement of her breathing, nipples like chocolate candy kisses in the candlelight.

We spent the afternoon like naked children, laughing, taking showers, raiding the icebox, conversing with the gods.

It’s usually some badass makes a young girl’s heart beat faster.

“I love high ceilings,” she said, draping her coat over the back of the couch. “They make you feel important.”

“The homicide boys like to leave out certain details so they have some way to judge all the crackpot confessions that come in.”

Everything about the place suggested the excellence of its customers’ Dun & Bradstreet ratings.

It looked like something the dog might have dragged in, and I stared at it a long time before I knew what it was. Valentine’s Day would no longer seem the same. It was Margaret Krusemark’s heart.

“What could be more bourgeois than a ménage à trois?”