incipit

It was one of the mixed blocks over on Central Avenue, the blocks that are not yet all negro. I had just come out of a threechair barber shop where an agency thought a relief barber named Dimitrios Aleidis might be working. It was a small matter. His wife said she was willing to spent a little money to have him come home. r. chandler, farewell, my lovely, penguin books, 1959