“Aren’t you funny?” he said.
“I didn’t think I was being funny.”
“What do you know about that?”
“Nothing.”
“When were you in New Orleans?”
I hesitated.
“Start lying to me,” he said, “and I’ll bust your damn agenda. You won’t get a bit of co-operation as long as you live.”
“I just got back from there.”
“I thought so.”
“Why, what’s wrong?”