Key Largo (1948)

Key Largo is on one of those films that I find a little intimidating to write about. Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall are two of the biggest stars from the classic film era, and it’s easy to see why. They were married in real life, and their on-screen chemistry never fails. It’s a lot of fun to watch them in any role. Key Largo is no exception.

Key Largo is the last of four films that Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall made together. I have already written about the first three; click on each film title to see any one or all of my previous articles:

◊ To Have and Have Not (1944), loosely based on the novel by Ernest Hemingway.

◊ The Big Sleep (1946), based on the novel by Raymond Chandler.

◊ Dark Passage (1947), based on the novel by David Goodis.

After the opening credits and these words: “At the southernmost point of the United States are the Florida Keys, a string of small islands held together by a concrete causeway. Largest of these remote coral islands is Key Largo,” the last still shot of the Florida Keys becomes a moving scene, with a police car following a bus on the bridge and then pulling it over. Two officers, who know the bus driver by name, board the bus because they are looking for two prisoners, Native Americans, who broke out of jail. They search the bus but don’t find them.

Humphrey Bogart is sitting in the front seat right behind the driver, who turns around and mentions that the Native Americans are probably close because the island is their home. Bogart has one line in response: “Home being Key Largo.” So viewers can’t miss two facts with an introduction that feels a bit heavy-handed: The film takes place in Key Largo. And one of the film’s stars is, of course, Humphrey Bogart.

This introduction may be a bit forced, but the rest of the story is anything but. The plot builds to several points of tension, which keeps the story interesting. Viewers never know when Johnny Rocco (played by Edward G. Robinson) is going to lose his cool and shoot somebody, which is appropriate for a film noir, of course.

Humphrey Bogart is Frank McCloud. He gets off the bus in front of the Largo Hotel, which has already been taken over by Johnny Rocco and his gangsters. The first gangster that Frank meets in the lobby tells him that the hotel is closed when Frank asks for the hotel proprietor by name (Mr. James Temple, played by Lionel Barrylmore). James Temple is George Temple’s father. George fought in Italy with Frank during World War II and died in action there. Nora Temple (played by Lauren Bacall) is George’s widow. Frank never states this explicitly, but it seems he has stopped to meet George Temple’s family and pay his respects.

The Osceola brothers are the Native Americans who escaped from prison. Sheriff Ben Wade and Deputy Clyde Sawyer show up at the Largo Hotel looking for them when Frank is outside talking to James Temple and his daughter Nora for the first time. Rocco and his gang have taken over the hotel, but they tell everyone, for the time being, that is, that they are tourists visiting in the off-season. They end up holding the Temples and Frank McCloud hostage when they drop the façade of being tourists. Toots Bass beats Deputy Sawyer unconscious when he returns to ask more questions. It is the first display of violence that the gang uses to intimidate the other characters.

Frank McCloud explains a lot about George Temple’s last days to the Temples. The Temples and Frank are connected only because of George Temple and his war service with Frank during World War II. After the war, Frank has drifted from job to job and from place to place, but something in him still values that connection to George and the desire to honor his service to his country. He seems to switch from loyalty to cynicism, however, during the course of the film. He travels to Key Largo to meet George’s father and widow, but he insists that he is not interested in fighting anyone else’s battles or advocating any cause, however noble. He doesn’t want to play the hero and confront Johnny Rocco when he threatens to shoot Frank.

(This article about Key Largo contains spoilers.)

Nora challenges this declaration of Frank’s later in the film. Her opportunity comes when Rocco makes a deal with his girlfriend Gaye Dawn: He’ll let her have a drink if she’ll sing for everyone during the start of the hurricane that is about to hit the Florida Keys. After she finishes singing, Rocco won’t make good on his promise. He says that she cannot sing like she used to, but he probably would have reneged on his promise no matter what. Frank gives Gaye a drink anyway, even under the threat of violence. Frank was willing to defy Johny Rocco and allow Gaye to keep her dignity, an act that makes an impression on Nora. The dialogue between Nora and Frank after this incident gives Nora a chance to state her belief that Frank has a noble streak in spite of himself and what he says, and that he can’t stop himself from helping others when they need it.

Claire Trevor gives a wonderful performance as Gaye Dawn, a performance for which she won the Academy Award for Best Supporting Actress. She is listening to a radio broadcast of a horse race when Frank arrives at the Largo Hotel and moves into the hotel’s bar looking for a beer and Mr. Temple. She is drunk and talkative: She explains what she knows about horses, racing, and gambling to Frank, who says little and doesn’t gamble. The scene shows how different they are. It also shows that Gaye’s companions at the bar are not very accommodating. When they refuse to serve Frank, she demands that they give him a beer. They do so partly because she is Rocco’s girlfriend, although Frank doesn’t learn this until later.

Frank returns the favor when he gives Gaye the drink she wants after Rocco makes her sing for it. And Gaye returns the favor again by acting hysterical when Rocco decides to leave her behind in Key Largo as he and his henchmen prepare to leave for Cuba. She grabs Rocco and paws at him, which gives her a chance to take his gun and then pass it to Frank, who has been forced to act as captain for the gang’s escape after the hurricane has died down.

The hurricane plays an important role in the film. Nora and Frank are practical and prepare for the storm. They tie down the Temples’ boat, and close and lock shutters in the hotel. The hurricane itself frightens Rocco, and he doesn’t like feeling powerless when he can’t shoot something or someone to get his way. It also plays a part in revealing James Temple’s paternalistic attitude toward the Native Americans living on the keys. They arrive at his hotel looking for shelter because they know that he would help them, and he would let them in under ordinary circumstances. But Johnny Rocco is in charge until he can leave for Cuba, and he has no intention of letting other people (that is, potential witnesses) into the hotel. After Rocco kills Deputy Sawyer, he tells Sheriff Wade that the Osceola brothers murdered him, which in turn leads the sheriff to shoot and kill them when they try to escape. James Temple does nothing to intervene because he understands the threat that Rocco and his henchmen pose, and he wants to protect himself and his daughter. But he is not unaware of what he has done; he later tells the sheriff, “Oh, I’m the one to blame. If they hadn’t trusted me, they wouldn’t have turned up here and they’d still be alive. It seems we can’t do anything but harm to those people, even when we go to help them.”

My favorite sequence in the film comes at the end, when Frank McCloud is steering the boat heading to Cuba and he hatches a plan to escape, an escape made possible because of Gaye Dawn and her ruse to give him Rocco’s gun. He knocks one man overboard and shoots two others. Rocco turns on the remaining man and kills him. Now it’s just Rocco and Frank, and the plot becomes a psychological game. The boat is quiet for a change, and Frank waits. From the moment that the first man is knocked overboard until he is finally able to radio for help, Frank doesn’t say another word. Rocco does all the talking, and he reveals his desperation and his treachery, both of which are finally his undoing. The sequence works so well because of the violence, both physical and psychological. Frank knows how to beat Rocco at his own game and succeeds in returning to Key Largo. It’s a wonderful relief after all that he and the other characters have been through.

Key Largo is a great film, in spite of its clunky opening. Each of the main characters has an important role to play because the film is really about personality and resourcefulness under stress. Bogart, Bacall, and Robinson were three of the most recognizable stars of the period. But it’s not just their fame that gives them such an on-screen presence. They give great performances, as do the actors in the supporting roles. It’s another film noir that I have seen several times, and I always see something more to appreciate each time I see it.

July 16, 1948, release date  •  Directed by John Huston  •  Screenplay by Richard Brooks, John Huston  •  Based on the play Key Largo by Maxwell Anderson  •  Music by Max Steiner  •  Edited by Rudi Fehr  •  Cinematography by Karl Freund

Humphrey Bogart as Major Frank McCloud  •  Edward G. Robinson as Johnny Rocco (aka Howard Brown)  •  Lauren Bacall as Nora Temple  •  Lionel Barrymore as James Temple  •  Claire Trevor as Gaye Dawn  •  Thomas Gomez as Richard “Curly” Hoff  •  Harry Lewis as Edward “Toots” Bass  •  John Rodney as Deputy Sheriff Clyde Sawyer  •   Dan Seymour as Angel Garcia  •  Monte Blue as Sheriff Ben Wade  •  Marc Lawrence as Ziggy  •  William Haade as Ralph Feeney  •  Jay Silverheels as John Osceola  •  Rodd Redwing as Tom Osceola

Distributed by Warner Bros.-First National Pictures  •  Produced by Warner Bros.-First National Pictures

Murder, My Sweet (1944)

Murder, My Sweet is one of those films that I find a little intimidating. Everyone has heard of it, especially if they are fans of film noir and especially if they are fans of Raymond Chandler. The film is based on Chandler’s novel, Farewell, My Lovely. I count myself as a Chandler fan: I have read all of his short stories and several of his novels, but it had been a long time, more than ten years, since I had read Farewell, My Lovely. I reread it and wrote about it in my last blog article, partly in preparation for seeing this wonderful film again.

Click here for my article about the novel Farewell, My Lovely.

Murder, My Sweet is considered one of the earliest films noir, but it was not placed in that category at the time of its release. French film critics invented the category after World War II, when US films were finally available to French audiences. No one in 1940 thought they were making a film noir. But Dick Powell campaigned for the role of Philip Marlowe. Powell, who was a song-and-dance man and not considered a serious actor, wanted to change that perception by playing Marlowe. Raymond Chandler had achieved some success as a writer of pulp fiction, and the story would be quite a change for Powell.

Mystery novels published in France were known as série noire. French critics adapted this term and coined film noir for the type of mystery films that they were finally able to see after the United States could distribute them after the end of World War II. Click here for more about the origins of the term film noir at Wikipedia.

The film is a lot of fun, and that is thanks to the great dialogue, the snappy lines, and Dick Powell in the lead role. Powell makes a great Philip Marlowe, the star detective in Chandler’s fiction. He is funny and genial, but he is still hard-boiled enough to be believable as a detective working in 1930s Los Angeles. His initial meeting with one of his clients, Lindsay Marriot, for example, is hilarious. When Marriott complains about Marlowe’s manner, Marlowe tells him, “Yeah, I’ve had complaints about it, but it keeps getting worse.” Later in the film, Marlowe is at the Grayle mansion standing next to a statue of an angel or a cupid (an angelic cupid?) waiting for Ann Grayle. He takes out a cigarette, strikes a match against the statue’s rear end, then does a double take when the match doesn’t light right away. And those are just two of many examples. Writing about these examples of the film’s humor doesn’t do it justice. Seeing the humor in context is a lot more fun.

The opening credits appear over an overhead shot of three men at a table or desk. It almost looks like a still shot, but the men do move. One of them is a blindfolded Philip Marlowe. The others are police officers, including Detective Nulty. During the credits, the camera slowly zooms into the reflected glare on the table. After the credits, it pulls out again to reveal that this scene is a police interrogation. Three (not two) officers are interrogating Philip Marlowe.

(This article about Murder, My Sweet contains spoilers.)

Marlowe thinks the police are trying to pin two murders on him, and they are questioning him about his version of events. Police Lieutenant Randall enters the interrogation room and tells Marlowe to start at the beginning. Marlowe says that they will have to start then with Moose Malloy, and he tells his story, his witness statement, in flashback. Most of the rest of the film is an extended flashback of Marlowe’s version of the events surrounding the murders of four men: Lindsay Marriot, Jules Amthor, Mr. Grayle, and Moose Malloy.

Moose Malloy hires Marlowe to find his girlfriend Velma Valento, and he takes Marlowe to Florian’s bar, where she used to work before Malloy served time in prison. No one in Florian’s knows anything, or will admit to knowing anything, about Velma Valento, so Malloy and Marlowe leave. Malloy does not give up hope and gives Marlowe more money to keep investigating.

Marlowe learns that Mike Florian, the former owner of Florian’s, has died, but his widow is still alive and in the phone book. He pays her a visit to question her about her husband’s business and his former employees. He gives her alcohol, which seems to loosen her tongue, but she maintains that she never heard of Velma Valento. Mrs. Florian isn’t as drunk as she lets on, however, and Marlowe discovers that she is lying. He wonders if Velma Valento doesn’t want to be found, or maybe others don’t want her to be found.

Another client, Lindsay Marriott, shows up in Marlowe’s office; Marriott is already snooping around Marlowe’s desk when Marlowe arrives. He wants to hire Marlowe to accompany him and buy back some jewels that were stolen in a holdup. Marlowe thinks the excursion is pointless because Marriott has no proof that whoever has the jewels will bring them to the meeting, but Marriott offers him $100 (a lot of money in the 1940s), so Marlowe agrees.

Marlowe drives the car, and he carries the money. (He’s driving on the right side of the car, as though he were driving in Great Britain! This is explained in the novel, but not in the film.) Marriott is killed at the meeting spot, and Marlowe is hit hard enough over the head that he blacks out: the first of three appearances of what he calls the black pool. When he comes to, someone shines a flashlight in his eyes and says, “Are you all right? What happened?” The stranger is Ann Grayle, and she runs off before Marlowe can talk to her about what just happened.

The black pool appears whenever Marlowe loses consciousness. This happens three times in the film: The first is when he is hit over the head at the meeting spot designated for the buyback of the jewels. The second is when he is pistol-whipped by Jules Amthor and then drugged to keep him compliant. The third is when Mr. Grayle fires a gun next to Marlowe’s head. The black pool allows for smooth transitions in the plot and, when Marlowe is drugged by Jules Amthor and Dr. Sonderborg, to show the drug’s effects.

Ann Grayle arrives in Marlowe’s office the day after Marriott’s murder pretending to be a reporter named Miss Allison. She claims that the police won’t talk to her, and she wants some information about the jade. Marlowe didn’t know that Marriott was paying someone specifically to get a jade necklace back, but he wants to know what Allison is doing in his office and how much she knows. He learns that she is really Ann Grayle and that the necklace belongs to her father and his wife, Helen Grayle, Ann’s stepmother.

Marlowe wants to learn more about the jade necklace, and Ann agrees to take him to her father’s home. Marlowe eventually learns that Helen Grayle, the wife and stepmother, is the link to Jules Amthor and to Moose Malloy. His two investigations—finding Velma Valento and solving Lindsay Marriott’s murder—are also linked. The rest of the film provides the clues that make all this clear to both Marlowe and the viewers.

Chandler’s plots and thus the films that are based on his books are sometimes criticized for being difficult if not impossible to follow, which is a characterization I disagree with generally. I always say that the plots of films noir are complicated, with many twists and turns, and attention to detail is almost always essential. This is especially true of Murder, My Sweet, and this time, it might be true that the plot of the film is not as tight as other films noir or the novel it is based on.

I have seen Murder, My Sweet at least eight times, but I still have not figured out, for example, how Philip Marlowe knows that Detective Nulty is casing his home and his office after he escapes from Jules Amthor’s place. He does not run into Detective Nulty or Lieutenant Randall after his escape. He sees only Moose Malloy, who helps him by stuffing him into a cab. The cab driver does not go to Marlowe’s place or to his office first before dropping him off at Ann Grayle’s apartment. And there is no indication that Lieutenant Randall assigned Detective Nulty to follow Marlowe after his first interrogation of Marlowe at the police station, with Nulty in attendance. This first interrogation takes place during the flashback, after Marlowe regains consciousness and reports Lindsay Marriott’s murder.

A lot of the dialogue in Murder, My Sweet comes straight out of Raymond Chandler’s novel. I was glad to hear some of the funny lines in the film, but I wasn’t as satisfied with the plot as it was rewritten for the film’s screenplay. The book does a much better job of tying up all the plot strands. I enjoyed the film immensely, but it doesn’t improve on Chandler. Expecting it to do so is probably expecting too much, I suppose, especially for admirers of Chandler’s work, and I am one of those admirers.

The DVD I watched came with audio commentary by historian Alain Silver, and he provides a lot of great details about the film and the novel on which it is based, including the success of all of Raymond Chandler’s publications and how the film Murder, My Sweet was a way for Dick Powell to reinvent his image after getting his start in musicals. The film changed Powell’s career and that of Claire Trevor’s. One of Silver’s points in particular struck me: Mr. Grayle is a doddering, distracted old man, someone who is representative of Chandler’s view of the nouveau riche in Los Angeles; Chandler thought that they were undeserving of their success.

This observation by Silver reminded me of the scene in which Philip Marlowe arrives at the Grayle mansion and is forced to wait in a cavernous, echoing room with a black-and-white-tiled floor. (The film is in black and white, so perhaps I am assuming the color of the tiles.) When Ann Grayle appears and is ready to bring him to meet her father and stepmother, Marlowe gets up and does a hopscotch move on the black-and-white checkerboard of a floor. It’s not an idea that originated with Chandler, but it is a nice way to show how Marlowe makes light of the Grayles and their wealth. Marlowe may not have as much money as the nouveau riche in Los Angeles, but he can play in the hallways of the rich just the same.

I almost always think the novel or the short story is better than the film adaptation. Film noir is a bit of an exception: I almost always think the film adaptation is just as good as—if not better than—the novel or short story on which it is based. For Murder, My Sweet., I think the novel and the film are on an equal footing. Chandler is a master writer of detective fiction and, as I said, it is a tall task for anyone to improve on his work. But the film is so much fun and well worth a look—if you happen to be one of the few who hasn’t seen it yet!

This article about Murder, My Sweet is my entry for “Back in Black: Another Film Noir Blogathon,” hosted by Rachel of Hamlette’s Soliloquy and Quiggy of The Midnite Drive-In on October 31 and November 1, 2026. Please visit their blogs for the list of participants and their contributions.

December 9, 1944, release date  •  Directed by Edward Dmytryk  •  Screenplay by John Paxton  •  Based on the novel Farewell, My Lovely by Raymond Chandler  •  Music by Roy Webb  •  Edited by Joseph Noriega  •  Cinematography by Harry J. Wild

Dick Powell as Philip Marlowe and the film’s narrator  •  Claire Trevor as Helen Grayle  •  Anne Shirley as Ann Grayle  •  Otto Kruger as Jules Amthor  •  Mike Mazurki as Moose Malloy  •  Miles Mander as Mr. Grayle  •  Douglas Walton as Lindsay Marriott  •  Don Douglas as Police Lieutenant Randall  •  Paul Phillips as Detective Nulty  •  Ralf Harolde as Dr. Sonderborg  •  Esther Howard as Mrs. Jessie Florian  •  John Indrisano as the chauffeur and Amthor’s henchman  •  Dewey Robinson as the new boss at Florian’s

Distributed by RKO Radio Pictures  •  Produced by RKO Radio Pictures

Farewell, My Lovely (Book) (1940)

I decided to see Murder, My Sweet (1944), a film that I have already seen several times, again because fellow Classic Movie Blog Association (CMBA) members, Rachel of Hamlette’s Soliloquy and Quiggy of The Midnite Drive-In, are hosting “Back in Black: Another Film Noir Blogathon” on October 31 and November 1, 2026. I’ll be joining them with my blogathon entry about Murder, My Sweet. I enjoy the film immensely, as I do each time that I see it, but I decided this time to reread Farewell, My Lovely, the basis for the film, before seeing Murder, My Sweet once again.

It has been a long time, probably more than ten years, since I last read the novel, and I enjoyed it just as much this time. Chandler’s main character Philip Marlowe, private investigator, makes many wry observations while he trudges through the details of his investigation. In Farewell, My Lovely, he isn’t hired—that is, being paid—for a lot of the work that he is doing. But he enjoys the work, at least most of the time and in spite of the trouble and violence it brings him. And he feels an obligation to Lindsay Marriott, who did hire him (and paid him) but who died while under Marlowe’s protection.

Marlowe first becomes involved because he can’t resist finding out a little bit more about Moose Malloy, someone he spots on Central Avenue, Los Angeles, looking for his former girlfriend, Velma Valento, in a speakeasy and causing trouble. They get acquainted over drinks and Malloy’s propensity to get in trouble. Malloy decides he needs some help looking for Velma, so he hires Marlowe. Soon after, a man named Lindsay Marriott wants to hire Marlowe to make a payment for the recovery of a Fei Tsui jade necklace. Marlowe doesn’t know it at first, but Moose Malloy, Velma Valento, and Lindsay Marriott are all connected, and he will figure out how by the end, of course.

(This article about the novel Farewell, My Lovely contains spoilers.)

Along his way, Marlowe makes some wry observations, as I mentioned. They are one of the reasons the book is a joy to read, even though it was first published in 1940. For instance, Marlowe meets Anne Riordan at the scene of Marriott’s murder. When she arrives at his office to help with some additional information, Chandler describes part of their meeting as follows: “I didn’t say anything. I lit my pipe again. It makes you look thoughtful when you are not thinking” (page 91).

Marlowe gets tossed around quite a bit during his investigation of Marriott’s murder. While trying to recover from one such incident, Marlowe thinks, “I was sitting on the side of my bed in my pajamas, thinking about getting up, but not yet committed. I didn’t feel very well, but I didn’t feel as sick as I ought to, not as sick as I would feel if I had a salaried job” (pages 190–191). I found that last sentence very relatable: It is a lot easier to drag one’s sick self to a home computer or laptop than it is to drag one’s sick self to the office workstation via subway or car.

But not every aspect of his job pleases Marlowe. One has to expect that in pulp fiction, right? Early in the novel, soon after meeting Moose Malloy, Marlowe tracks down Jessie Florian, the widow of Velma Valento’s former boss at the speakeasy on Central Avenue. He goes to her home and plies her with alcohol to get her to talk, a task he feels is necessary but distasteful: “I liked getting her drunk for my own sordid purposes. . . . You find almost anything under your hand in my business, but I was beginning to be a little sick at my stomach” (page 34). Near the end of the novel, Marlowe sits in a cheap hotel room and considers his current situation while still investigating murder, a jewel heist, and police corruption: “I needed a drink, I needed a lot of life insurance, I needed a vacation, I needed a home in the country. What I had was a coat, a hat and a gun. I put them on and went out of the room” (page 238). In spite of everything he has endured to that point, he still has the resolution to solve the case.

I enjoy reading Chandler because of his turns of phrase and his use of language, but there is no escaping that he and, by extension, his private investigator Marlowe are products of his time. In Farewell, My Lovely, almost every group one can imagine is described in stereotypical language and given demeaning characterizations: Blacks, women, Asian Americans, Native Americans, Italian Americans . . . it’s a long list. For this reason alone, I can only recommend the novel with this caveat: That modern readers keep in mind that the novel was published almost 100 years ago, before the civil rights movement, before the women’s movement, and so on.

The film adaptation, Murder, My Sweet, released just four years after the publication of the novel, avoids all of these pitfalls, which makes the film more fun for modern viewers to watch. Dick Powell plays Philip Marlowe, and he captures Marlowe’s humor and cynicism without disparaging whole groups in single sentences.

Farewell, My Lovely is the second novel that Raymond Chandler published and, like all his novels, it was based on his previously published short stories. Farewell, My Lovely is based specifically on “Try the Girl” (published January 1937 in Black Mask magazine), “Mandarin’s Jade” (November 1937 in Dime Detective), and “The Man Who Liked Dogs” (March 1936 in Blask Mask), all of which I have read. Reading pulp fiction from the 1930s and 1940s is fun because of the language and the slang, but the slang that was so commonly understood then presents a challenge for modern-day readers. Here is a brief list of some of the terms that I had to look up while reading Farewell, My Lovely:

◊ borsalino hat: Borsalino is an Italian hat manufacturer, and its brand name was probably used as a common noun in the 1930s and 1940s, much like xerox is today. You can read about the company and its legacy at Wikipedia.

◊ juju: marijuana cigarettes. Chandler spells it as “marihuana.”

◊ dunned: From Power Thesaurus, to harass, for example, by continually repeating a request

◊ fakeloo artist: a con artist.

◊ flesh peddler: in Chandler’s day (that is, the 1930s and 1940s), a theatrical agent.

◊ French fits: from Wiktionary, delirium tremens.

◊ hoopla spreader: from Merriam-Webster, someone who spreads exaggerated information.

◊ the Purple Gang: from Wikipedia, a criminal mob of bootleggers and hijackers composed predominantly of Jewish gangsters that operated in Detroit, Michigan, during the 1920s of the Prohibition Era and became Detroit’s dominant criminal gang. Also known as the Sugar House Gang. See Wikipedia for more information.

◊ sneezer: From Wordnik, prison

I am a big fan of Raymond Chandler, in spite of his demeaning portrayals of some characters. I enjoy his use of language and his vivid descriptions. His plots are difficult to follow, but they are not impossible. And I enjoy that challenge, too. Like most films noir, which benefit from repeat viewings, Chandler’s novels benefit from repeat readings. For me, the pleasure comes from the language, which I always find is one of the reasons to write and to read in the first place.

Farewell, My Lovely, by Raymond Chandler  •  New York: First Vintage Crime/Black Lizard Edition, 1992  •  Originally published in 1940

List of main characters:

Philip Marlowe  •  Moose Malloy  •  Detective Lieutenant Nulty  •  Jessie Florian  •  Mrs. Morrison, Jessie Forian’s next-door neighbor  •  Lindsay Marriott  •  Anne Riordan  •  Detective Lieutenant Carl Randall  •  Helen Grayle  •  Jules Amthor  •  Sergeant Galbraith (aka Hemingway)  •  Dr. Sonderborg  •  Laird Brunette

The image of the front cover is from the First Vintage Crime/Black Lizard Edition. The page references in this article refer to First Vintage Crime/Black Lizard Edition listed above.

I consulted the following online sources for definitions and information about slang and vocabulary:

Merriam-Webster  •  Miskatonic University Press: Twists, Slugs, and Roscoes: A Glossary of Hardboiled Slang  •  Power Thesaurus  •  Thought Catalog  •  Urban Dictionary  •  Wikipedia  •  Wiktionary  •  Wordnick