About the book: 1927 / The smell of cigarettes came from the room, and through the open door I saw that it was illuminated by a pinkish light breaking through a pink lampshade. I'm not used to trusting words, but now I was in dire need of money, and Big Bill Ryan is a serious man. Taking a deep breath, I stepped into the room and closed the door behind me. She sat leaning back in a chair near a lamp with a pink lampshade, her naked her elbows rested on the dark surface of the table, and her thin, long fingers clutched a bone cigarette holder with a smoking cigarette. Her slippered feet stood on a low stool, and her smooth-fitting stockings gleamed, reflecting the light. Yes, she tried to make an impression. I have a trained eye for such things. I stood there, trying to assess the situation, then caught her gaze. She had cat-like eyes, green, almost glowing in this twilight: the pupils either narrowed or dilated.