Even on Central Avenue, not the quietest dressed street in the world, he looked about as inconspicuous as a… — Raymond Chandler

He had a battered face that looked as if it had been hit by everything but the bucket of a dragline. It was scarred, flattened, thickened, checkered, and welted. It was a face that had nothing to fear. Everything had been done to it that anybody could think of.

We sneered at each other across the desk for a moment. He sneered better than I did.

"They say money don't stink," he said. "I sometimes wonder."