The Evolution—and the Future—of the Private Eye | CrimeReads

I have a bias toward the private investigator novel, most of it driven by the imagery of classic film noir-shiny-wet pavements, sinewy cigarette smoke curling upward, vintage cars with fat white-wall tires, hard kisses that dip-to-black. The guys wearing sharp-creased fedoras and baggy-legged pants. The women with lipstick pouts, seamed stockings, and hats cocked to the side.