Then I had another drink and asked, “Do you remember what it said?”
“Walter, I remember parts of it. Didn’t read it cl—closely. I thought the guy was screwy, see? I threw it ’way.”
He stopped and had another drink, and finally I got tired waiting and said, “Well?”
“Well, what?”
“The letter. What did the part you remember shay?”
“Oh, that,” said George. “Yeah. Something about Lilo-Linotl—you know what I mean.”
By that time the bottle on the bar in front us couldn’t have been the same one, because this one was two-thirds full and the other one had been only one-third full. I took another drink. “What’d he shay about it?”
“Who?”
“Th’ L.G.—G.P.—aw, th’ guy who wrote th’ letter.”
“Wha’ letter?” asked George.