The Logic of the Noose
Los Angeles in 1947 was a city of neon lies and rain-slicked asphalt. Leo Cassian sat in his office, the ceiling fan chopping the cigarette smoke into grey ribbons. Leo was a private eye with a hole where his heart should be. A car wreck three years ago had left him with a traumatic brain injury that did a very specific job: it deleted his fear. He didn't mind. Fear is expensive; it makes you...
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