CHAPTER TENIt was getting to the point where I thought that if I didn’t talk to somebody at least semi-normal I’d develop a leak in my own roof. I walked down toward Montgomery Boulevard from Zimmer’s house, trying to put my finger on just who that might be. My impression of most of the characters I was coming in contact with led me to the uncomfortable feeling that I was dealing with a group of mental jitterbugs.
I stood on the corner of Montgomery, theoretically waiting for a cab, actually gazing, more or less unthinkingly, at the cars whizzing by. A Ford, a Chevvy, a Ford, a Buick, a Pontiac, a Dodge, a Nash, a Chevvy, a Plymouth, a Kaiser, some make I didn’t recognize—when I was a kid I knew them all—a Ford, a midget Crosley, a Chevvy.
A cab stopped finally, without my having hailed
