Who shot him? I asked.The grey man scratched the back of his neck and said: Somebody with a gun.

Who shot him? I asked.
The grey man scratched the back of his neck and said: Somebody with a gun.

It's sometimes better to pretend I don't hear the sound of somebody in the nearby woods with a shotgun.

Another man whose social life has ruined him.

She stared at him dully and said: “I don’t like crooks, and even if I did, I wouldn’t like crooks that are stool-pigeons, and if I liked crooks that are stool-pigeons, I still wouldn’t like you.” She turned to the outer door.

With what dope I got I think it fills me in pretty well.