Eighty-seven years ago today Knopf released a little novel of romance and murder titled The Maltese Falcon.
You know the story.
You’ve been having an affair with your partner’s wife, and now your partner is dead, and you’re expected to do something about it.
So before you begin your affair with the new skirt in town who did the shooting, you need to tell the widow to beat it. . . .
Sickest Valentine’s Day novel ever.
