The Big Sleep - Raymond Chandler

This is one of the Philip Marlowe novels, the tough-as-they-come private eye that Humphrey Bogart made famous. You won't read a juicier, low down and cooler novel anywhere. The style just oozes the sleazy heat of the Californian underbelly, and sets the standard for gritty
thirties Americana.

At one point in the book, Marlowe has just finished discussing a job with an elderly client, and gets summoned by the guy's divorcée daughter who tries to get her hooks into him. Marlowe is not impressed:

"I didn't ask to see you. You sent for me. I don't mind your ritzing me or drinking your lunch out of a scotch bottle. I don't mind your showing me your legs. They're very swell legs and it's a pleasure to make their acquaintance. I don't mind if you don't like my manners. They're pretty bad. I grieve over them during the long winter evenings. But don't waste your time trying to cross-examine me."

Icy, hard as nails, and gripping from start to end.